They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

Today I felt like starting

yes

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.


Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Rain, starting

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

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

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Better Lift