i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

Style

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Worse Lift

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

no longer writing in the third person

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

like magnets

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

you have a beautiful account btw