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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged


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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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 am below everything.

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

Style

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

Worse Lift

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.

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.

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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

It Will Get Lighter

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

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