One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Style

"Put a blanket."

really i want the internet

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Today I felt like starting

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

i see a website

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

no longer writing in the third person

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

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

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it