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.

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

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.

It Will Get Lighter

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

13, H, grate

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

really i want the internet

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.

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

yes

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Worse Lift

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

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

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.