or never left

like first name

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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

much more tactility

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

idk

but i respect your search

what do you mean

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

really i want the internet

and the fake qualifier

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

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.

i dont understand magnetisation

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

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.

so an active mazelike process

I am below everything.

13, H, grate

whats your name?

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03