Today I felt like starting
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Better Lift
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
no longer writing in the third person
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.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
hiding from the rain
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
...
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
not so on: yvf(wthw)
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
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.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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
We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class