One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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


bro i read nothing in my life

send link

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

It Will Get Lighter

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.


I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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 really havent


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.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

much more tactility

It Will Get Lighter

Slug