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 got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

but really the thing should be autonomous

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.

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

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

really i want the internet

Better Lift

i see a website

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

IWGD

kind of mythopoesis

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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