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
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
no longer writing in the third person
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I am below everything.
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
plato
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
is this you as well
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
ahnaf abrar
hiding from the rain
what do you think my name is