We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

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.

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

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

was it worth it

...

send link

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.

Picture

really i want the internet

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.

brb i will read and reply sincerely

but really the thing should be autonomous

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

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