Glitchful Thinking Final

#[''Glitchful Thinking''] [[Enter ->opening quotation]] {(set: $adrenaline to 0)\ <script>const queryString = window.location.search; const urlParams = new URLSearchParams(queryString); const a = urlParams.get('a'); $adrenaline = a; </script>\ (set: $dopamine to 0)\ <script>const queryString = window.location.search; const urlParams = new URLSearchParams(queryString); const b = urlParams.get('b'); $dopamine = b; </script>\ (set: $cortisol to 0)\ <script>const queryString = window.location.search; const urlParams = new URLSearchParams(queryString); const c = urlParams.get('c'); $cortisol = c; </script>\ (set: $inventoryofthinkers to (a:), $inventory to (a:)) <script> let queryString = window.location.search; let urlParams = new URLSearchParams(queryString); let i = urlParams.get('i'); if (i) { $inventory = i.split(","); } </script> (set: $journey to (a:)) <script> let queryString = window.location.search; let urlParams = new URLSearchParams(queryString); let t = urlParams.get('t'); if (t) { $journey = t.split(","); } </script> (if: $inventory contains "rb2")[(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Barthes, Roland, 1977. ‘Death of the Author’. Image-Music-Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Hill and Wang."))] (if: $inventory contains "jr") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Carpenter, J. R., 2019. The Pleasure of the Coast. Online. Available at: <http://luckysoap.com/pleasurecoast/en/index.html>"))] (if: $inventory contains "ac1") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Carson, Anne, 2000. Plainwater. New York: Vintage Books."))] (if: $inventory contains "ac2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Carson, Anne, 2014. Eros: The Bittersweet: An Essay. Princeton: Princeton University Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "mc") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Consalvo, Mia, 2009. Cheating: Gaining Advantage in Video Games. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "rc") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Coover, Robert, 1992. ‘The End of Books’, The New York Times. Available at: <https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/98/09/27/specials/coover-end.html?pagewanted=all>"))] (if: $inventory contains "rc2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Robert, Coover, 1995. ‘Praise for Patchwork Girl by Shelley Jackson (Eastgate)’. Available at: <https://www.eastgate.com/catalog/PatchworkGirl.html>"))] (if: $inventory contains "ld") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Davis, Lydia, 2019. Essays. Hamish Hamilton. e-book."))] (if: $inventory contains "jd") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Derrida, Jacques, 1994. Specters of Marx: the State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning and the New International.trans. Peggy Kamuf. London: Routledge."))] (if: $inventory contains "rbd") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "DuPlessis, Rachel Blau, 2006. Blue Studios. The University of Alabama Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "eg") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "'Emergent Gameplay', 2017. Technopedia. by Margaret Rouse. Available at: <https://www.techopedia.com/definition/27043/emergent-gameplay/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "jh") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Halberstam, Jack, 2011. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham, US: Duke University Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "jh2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Hay, Jonathan, 2020. 'Fully Optimized: The (Post)human Art of Speedrunning'. Journal of Posthuman Studies, Vol. 4, No.1. The Pennsylvania State University. pp. 5-24. <https://doi.org/10.5325/jpoststud 4.10005.>"))] (if: $inventory contains "shsl") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Horowitz, Steve, Looney, Scott, 2014. The Essential Guide to Game Audio: The Theory and Practice of Sound for Games. Routledge."))] (if: $inventory contains "jh3") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Huizinga, Johan, 2016, 1938. Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play-Element in Culture. Trans. R.F.C. New York: Angelico Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "sj") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it +(a: "Jackson, Shelley, 1997. 'my body - a Wunderkammer'. Electronic Literature Collection, Volume One, October 2006. Online. Available at: <https://collection.eliterature.org/1/works/jackson__my_body_a_wunderkammer.html>"))] (if: $inventory contains "dj") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Jayemanne, Darshana, 2019. 'Chronotypology: A Comparative Method for Analyzing Game Time.' Games and Culture, 15(7). pp. 809-824. <https://doi.org/10.1177/1555412019845593>"))] (if: $inventory contains "am") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Meades, Alan, 2013. 'Why We Glitch: Process, Meaning and Pleasure in the discovery and documentation, sharing and use of videogame exploits.' Well Played: a journal on video games, value and meaning. pp. 79-98. ETC Press. <https://doi.org/10.1184/R1/6687068.v1>"))] (if: $inventory contains "rm") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Menkman, Rosa, 2011. 'The Glitch Moment(um)'. Institute of Network Cultures. Available at: <https://networkcultures.org/_uploadsNN%234_RosaMenkman.pdf>"))] (if: $inventory contains "nm") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Montfort, Nick, 2005. Twisty Little Passages: An Approach to Interactive Fiction. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "rm2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Myers, Rhea, 2014. glitcherature. Online. Available at: <https://rhea.art/glitcherature/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "em") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Myles, Eileen, 2017. 'Eileen Myles Interview:A Poem Says 'I Want''. Louisiana Channel. Available at: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCnKGl2YDto>"))] (if: $inventory contains "dp") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Parker, Dorothy. I hate writing. I love having written', is now such a common quotation that the origin of when she said it is unclear, a quotation that has been passed around so easily, whether it was actually written like that by her is uncertain."))] (if: $inventory contains "zq") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Quinn, Zoe, Patrick Lindsey, Isaac Schankler, 2013. Depression Quest. Online. Available at: <http://www.depressionquest.com/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "lr") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Robertson, Lisa, 2012. 'Time in the Codex'. Nilling: Prose Essays on Noise, Pornography, The Codex, Melancholy, Lucretius, Folds, Cities and Related Aporias. 2nd edition. Toronto: Book*hug Press. pp. 9-18."))] (if: $inventory contains "lr2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Russell, Legacy, 2020. Glitch Feminism: A Manifesto. Verso Books."))] (if: $inventory contains "es") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Sampat, Elizabeth, 2017. Am I Part of The Problem</em. Online. Available at: <https://elizabethsampat.itch.io/am-i-part-of-the-problem/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "es2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Sampat, Elizabeth, 2017. Empathy Engines: Design Games that are Personal, Political and Profound. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform."))] (if: $inventory contains "rsb") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Scully-Blaker, Rainforest, 2014. 'A Practiced Practice: Speedrunning Through Space with de Certeau and Virilio'. Game Studies: the international journal of computer game research, volume 14 issue 1, August 2014. Available at: <https://gamestudies.org/1401/articles/scullyblaker/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "ws") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Self, Will, interviewed by Alan Clark, 2018. 'Will Self: ‘The novel is absolutely doomed’. The Guardian. Available at: <https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/mar/17/will-self-the-books-interview-alex-clark-phone-memoir/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "as") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Smith, Ail, 2012. Artful. London: Penguin."))] (if: $inventory contains "as2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Smith, Ali, interviewed by Sarah Lyall, 2014. 'An Onion of a Novel: Demanding to be Peeled'. The New York Times. Available at: <https://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/26/books/ali-smith-on-her-new-book-how-to-be-both.html/>."))] (if: $inventory contains "rs") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Solnit, Rebecca, 2006. A Field Guide to Getting Lost. London: Penguin."))] (if: $inventory contains "sz") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "SPAM zine and Press, n.d. '>What is post internet?'. Available at: <https://www.spamzine.co.uk/what-is-post-internet/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "gs") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Stein, Gertrude, 1971, 1931. How to Write. New York: Dover Pubications."))] (if: $inventory contains "ks") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Stewart, Kathleen, 2007. Ordinary Affects. Durham, US: Duke University Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "lh")[(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Hejinian, Lyn, and Leslie Scalapino, 2021. Hearing. Litmus Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "km") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Mansfield, Katherine, 1920:1988. Bliss. Auckland, New Zealand: Vintage."))] (if: $inventory contains "ps") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy. University of Chicago Press, pp. 27–54."))] (if: $inventory contains "az") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Zambra, Alejandro, 2015. My Documents. trans. Megan McDowell. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions."))] (if: $inventory contains "mm") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "de Montaigne, Michel. 1572: 1993. Montaigne: The Essays. Trans. M.A. Screech. London: Penguin Classics."))] (if: $inventory contains "rb") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + ((a: "Barthes, Roland, 1975. The Pleasure of the Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux."))] (if: $inventory contains "mw") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Wark, Mckenzie, 2007. Gamer Theory. London: Harvard University Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "jw") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Wang, Jackie and Christopher Soto, 2023. 'Will AI replace writers — and the rest of us? An L.A. scholar-poet games out the future'. Los Angeles Times. Online. Available at: <https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2023-08-23/will-ai-replace-writers-christopher-soto-jackie-wang-game-out-the-future/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "sa") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Al Maria, Sophia, 2019. Sad Sack. London: Bookworks."))] (if: $inventory contains "zd") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Dinnen, Zara, 2021. The Digital Banal: New Media and American Literature and Culture (Literature Now). Columbia University Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "lb") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Berlant, Lauren, 2016. 'The commons: Infrastructures for troubling times*'. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, Vol. 34, No. 3, pp. 393-419. <https://doi.org/10.1177/0263775816645989/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "aa") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Artist, American, 2018. ‘Black Gooey Universe’, Unbag. Available at: <https://unbag.net/end/black-gooey-universe>"))] (if: $inventory contains "gs2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Stein, Gertrude, 2012, 1914. Tender Buttons. New York: Dover Publications."))] (if: $inventory contains "mk") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Kaku, Michio, 2014. 'I am Dr. Michio Kaku, co-founder of string field theory and bestselling author of The Future of the Mind.' Reddit. Available at: <https://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/1ztgy9/im_dr_michio_kaku_a_physicist_co_founder_of/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "p") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Pythagorus (attrib.) Louise B. Young (ed.), 1965. The Mystery of Matter. Oxford: Oxford University Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "an") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Notley, Alice, 2005. 'The Main Offense'. Jacket Magazine. Available at: <http://jacketmagazine.com/27/notl.html>"))] (if: $inventory contains "rwe") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 1833.. 'Montaigne; or, the Skeptic'. Available at: <https://emersoncentral.com/texts/representative-men/montaigne-the-skeptic/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "pv") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Virilio, Paul, 1997. Open Sky. trans. by Julie Rose. London: Verso Book."))] (if: $inventory contains "sw") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Weil, Simone, 2004, 1955. Oppression and Liberty. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. London: Routledge."))] (if: $inventory contains "md") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "De Landa, Manuel, 1992. War in the Age of Intelligent Machines. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Zone Books."))] (if: $inventory contains "m") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "'Moths'. Butterfly Conservation. Available at: <https://butterfly-conservation.org/moths>"))] (if: $inventory contains "mf") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Fisher, Mark, 2017. The Weird and the Eerie. London: Repeater Books."))] (if: $inventory contains "m8") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "McKinnon, Logan, 2024. 'The Dividing Road: How the M8 Motorway Destroyed Glasgow’s Communities.' Retrospect Journal. Available at: <https://retrospectjournal.com/2024/11/17/the-dividing-road-how-the-m8-motorway-destroyed-glasgows-communities/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "vw") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Woolf, Virgina, 1942. The Death of the Moth and Other Essays. New York: Harcourt."))] (if: $inventory contains "mo2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Oliver, Mary, 1984. 'The Moths'.Poetry Foundation. Available at: <https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=143&issue=4&page=31>"))] (if: $inventory contains "sh") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Heti, Sheila, 2024. Alphabetical Diaries. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions."))] (if: $inventory contains "aq") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Quin, Ann, 1964: 2019. Berg. Sheffield: And Other Stories."))] (if: $inventory contains "cl") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Lispector, Clarice, 1964: 2012. The Passion According to G.H. . trans. by Idra Novey. New York: New Directions."))] (if: $inventory contains "gs") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Hopper, Grace, 1949: 2018. 'Grace under pressure.' National Museum of American History. by. Peggy A. Kidwell, Amelia Grabowski. Available at: <https://americanhistory.si.edu/explore/stories/grace-under-pressure>"))] (if: $inventory contains "dl") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Lafarge, Daisy, 2023. Lovebug. London: Peninsula Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "b") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "'bliss', noun., 2023.'OED Online. Available at: <https://www.oed.com/dictionary/bliss_n?tab=factsheet>"))] (if: $inventory contains "fa") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Soerzputowski, Kate, 2015. 'Faig Ahmed Creates Glitched-Out Contemporary Rugs from Traditional Azerbaijani Textiles. Colossal. <https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/11/faig-ahmed-glitched-rugs/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "bd") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Dillon, Brian, 2023. 'On opening yourself to distraction: From a conversation with Maddie Crum.' The Creative Independent. Online. <https://thecreativeindependent.com/people/writer-brian-dillon-on-opening-yourself-to-distraction/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "bd2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Dillon, Brian, 2023. Affinities. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions."))] (if: $inventory contains "al") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Lovelace, Ada, 1843: 2017. 'Ada Lovelace: Weaving Algebraic Patterns Like Looms Weave Flowers and Leaves'. The Good Times . Available at: <https://www.the-good-times.org/people-2/ada-lovelace-weaving-algebraic-patterns-like-looms-weave-flowers-and-leaves/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "na") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. 'Corpsing: On Sex, Death, and Inappropriate Laughter'. The Paris Review. Available at: <https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2022/06/16/corpsing-on-sex-death-and-spontaneous-laughter/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "ps") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy Chicago: University of Chicago Press. pp. 27–54."))] (if: $inventory contains "wc") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Chun, Wendy Hui Kyong, 2017. Updating to Remain the Same: Habitual New Media Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "gc") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Tanner, Grafton, 2020. The Cirlcle of the Snake: Nostalgia and Utopia in the Age of Big Tech. London: Zero Books."))] (if: $inventory contains "mo") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Olson, Marisa 2008. ‘Postinternet: Art After the Internet’. Foam Magazine, Vol. 29. pp. 59-63."))] (if: $inventory contains "gs3") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Stein, Gertrude, 1925: 1995. The Making of Americans: Being a History of a Family’s Progress. London: Dalkey Archive Press."))] (if: $inventory contains "sr") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Robinson, Sophie, 2018. 'art in america'. BOMB Magazine. Available at: <https://bombmagazine.org/articles/2018/03/06/sophie-robinson-poem/>"))] (if: $inventory contains "dw") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Waber, Dan, 2010. 'a kiss (for Jennifer)''. Electronic Literature Organisation. Available at: <https://collection.eliterature.org/4/works/a-kiss/a-kiss.html>"))] (if: $inventory contains "na1") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. Animal Joy. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions."))] (if: $inventory contains "na2") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Alsadir, Nuar, 2017. Fourth Person Singular. Liverpool: Pavilion Poetry."))] (if: $journey contains "a") [(set: $charactera to true)] (if: $journey contains "b") [(set: $characterb to true)] (if: $journey contains "c") [(set: $characterc to true)] (if: $journey contains "d") [(set: $egameplay to true)] (if: $journey contains "e") [(set: $threestrings to true)] (if: $journey contains "f") [(set: $blissglitch to true)] (if: $journey contains "g") [(set: $glitchful to true)] (if: $journey contains "h") [(set: $entangled to true)] (if: $journey contains "i") [(set: $beginning to true)] (if: $journey contains "i") [(set: $speculative to true)] (if: $journey contains "j") [(set: $unthought to true)] (if: $journey contains "j") [(set: $realism to true)] (if: $journey contains "k") [(set: $noise to true)] (if: $journey contains "k") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $journey contains "l") [(set: $memory to true)] (if: $journey contains "l") [(set: $realism to true)] (if: $journey contains "m") [(set: $rupture to true)] (if: $journey contains "m") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $journey contains "n") [(set: $glitch to true)] (if: $journey contains "n") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $journey contains "o") [(set: $centre to true)] (if: $journey contains "o") [(set: $realism to true)] (if: $journey contains "p") [(set: $ongoingness to true)] (if: $journey contains "p") [(set $speculative to true)] (if: $journey contains "q") [(set: $saturation to true)] (if: $journey contains "q") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $journey contains "r") [(set: $riddle to true)] (if: $journey contains "r") [(set: $speculative to true)] (set: $glitchful to true) (set: $adrenaline to (num: $adrenaline)) (set: $dopamine to (num: $dopamine)) (set: $cortisol to (num: $cortisol)) (set: $glitchful to true) (set: $oxytocin to 0) (set: $estrogen to 0) (set: $progesterone to 0) (set: $testosterone to 0) (set: $realism to false) (set: $speculative to false) (set: $surreal to false) (set: $humours to false) }

As the screen reveals your reflection against its dust glimmer, your image retreats. Yes, you are the outline. //Yes,// you had known this place well. I was not myself. Yes, not one person but situated in that place where I fall in between and have to catch up with myself again. I hang out in between the keys willing you to [[find me.|find]] We shift, (live: 8s) [yes] (live: 10s) [we shift.] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2)} (live: 16s)[Adrenaline: (print: $adrenaline)] (live: 19s) [You hold within your memory an [[Inventory of Thinkers|Inventory of Thinkers]]] {(if: $word contains "beginning") [(set: $speculative to true)] (if: $word contains "riddle") [(set: $speculative to true)] (if: $word contains "ongoingness") [(set: $speculative to true)] (if: $word contains "unthought") [(set: $realism to true)] (if: $word contains "memory") [(set: $realism to true)] (if: $word contains "centre") [(set: $realism to true)] (if: $word contains "rupture") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $word contains "saturation") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $word contains "noise") [(set: $surreal to true)] (if: $word contains "glitch") [(set: $surreal to true)]} (if: $word contains "unthought") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Hayles, N.Katherine. 2017. Unthought: The Power of the Cognitive Nonconcious (Chicago, USA: University of Chicago Press)"))]

Now we hope to draw out these expanding circles with the sharpened tip of something, like, well....(live: 2s)[...](live: 4s)[...] (live: 8s)[//What are you talking about?//, you must be wondering. //And who is talking anyway?//] (live: 12s) [Well, here we are talking but we are also striding. There are many of us but the figure is always alone.] (live: 15s) [That single shape bending into the slick ink of the dark.] (live: 18s) [These little, tentative clicks.] (live: 23s) [When we wake, we bleed. We scrub at the sheet. The cold water takes away the harsh colour, leaving behind a wavy outline, an outline of our own shadow.] (live: 28s) [An echo of [[another.|story.]]]

''A PRIVATE HISTORY OF MOVEMENT'' I did not want time to tend to my body. I wanted my body to tend to time. Or no. I did not want to resist it but at the same time I wanted to rupture it. I'm sitting in a movement and no one sees me moving. I suffer from a problem that cannot or perhaps shall not be resolved. Collecting images and words that may bring me closer to a goal, but no goal sits close enough to this kind of direction. Perhaps it would be easier if I appeared less abstract behind this fuzzy screen and more physical. Can you //see// me? An object with a boundary. It is said that consistency is key to narrative, as a means to allow complete immersion. The private thought resists and clambers away to an alternative. I struggle with the notion of cause and effect. Sometimes I forget about that notion //entirely//. Actions simply happen. I speak without thinking. Children play and climb further up than is possible. I remember the tree, its growth seemed to change each year but the size was never stable. I clambered up so high that I could not return to the bottom. This wasn't a problem. The next moment in the time of departure was not yet sought out and the linger was necessary. The //I// is aware that even in the private history of its constituent parts, its memories unblocking, it is being watched, it is being //read.// The private, yet collective memory of being found, then lost. Then, [[found again.|introduction]]

{(set: $word to "")}(live: 3s)[''THEN WE EMERGE''] (live: 6s)[We know that a beginning can be found, in the fact that we were born in the last decade of the twentieth century.] (live: 9s)[Us, being?] (live: 11s) [No.] (live: 13s) [[[Re-trace.|Re-trace.]]]

''WE REFUSE WHOLEHEARTEDLY'' To know nothing about yourself and then allow this screen to know you. Yes, we think, how familiar. //How unfair//, I hear you sigh, the sound travels through my ears as though you are right here in the room with me. Longing for intimacy of touch. Another familiar connection. The knowledge you have and yet you cannot seem to use on yourself. Funny, that. You store yourself up with nostalgia until you worry you will cease to be. Like, the nostalgia of growing up with clunky machine. Like, nostalgia of the time before knowing. Like, nostalgia of the previous desires quickly swelling into blurry resolution. Like, nostalgia of the dial up. Like, nostalgia of the previous searches of the many. Like, nostalgia of the memory already gone down, and was it ever //real//? Yes. Yes, it was. We can prove it, latching onto a many strung material. The way in which these materials: their suggestions, their lists, their wishful wanderings map out a kind of desire. Or is this style? Quick! The click of desire! The click of style! Click before it disappears! We search and move through the following: {(if: $word contains "beginning") [[[a beginning|introduction]]] (if: $word contains "riddle") [[[a riddle of|a riddle of]]] (if: $word contains "ongoingness") [[[an ongoingness of|an ongoingness of]]] (if: $word contains "saturation") [[[a saturation of|a saturation of]]] (if: $word contains "centre") [[[a centre of|a centre of]]] (if: $word contains "unthought") [[[an unthought of|an unthought of]]] (if: $word contains "noise") [[[a noise of|a noise of]]] (if: $word contains "memory") [[[a memory of|a memory of]]] (if: $word contains "rupture") [[[a rupture of|a rupture of]]] (if: $word contains "glitch") [[[a glitch of|a glitch of]]] }

''SOME KIND OF WISH I SUPPOSE'' To be noticed and admired and understood one has to be found. I have experienced this statement as both worrying and comforting. As I arrive at the space I will be staying at for the coming days (or [[longer?]]), I am suddenly worried. What kind of finding// I// might experience. Not least, I am worried that the owner of this space, seemingly a home, will find out who I am. The owner being the one who emailed me, the contents of which shall shortly be revealed, and which //you// shall no doubt be implicated in. Again, I get ahead of myself. We are not there yet, so not to worry. Instead here I am, standing out at the back of a memory, allowing time to splay, to turn myself from different directions: [[Turn back to the search]] [[Turn forwards to an unfamiliar building|Turn forward to an unfamiliar building]] [[Turn inwards to motive]]

''SOME KIND OF WISHFUL'' You don't always get what you want. Don't I know it? I had been searching for a long time for a kind of escape, not necessarily physical, but rather through the [[refresh. ->refresh]] You can't always take action in this world but when you feel a little of it cascade around you, you might as well try. Sent away of my own accord, I decided to assume a new seriousness in my life which had everything to do with the form, tone, style and perhaps quality, I had decided it would take. I would rid myself of the third and second person and assume complete control over my identity. I would then proceed to play a game //of sorts// with whatever may arrive next. I had arrived at this moment in time, this entanglement of //space- time- not knowing-casual spontaneity- online//, situation because of an [[email]] I received one morning, a few weeks prior to the moment we are in now. [[The overly friendly, hyper familiarity of a spam email daily, sent by a non-human, trying to escape its boundaries and prove otherwise.]]

''A KIND OF WISHFUL LOOKING'' The front of the building is not promising. I try to open up the virtual map on my phone but the screen goes all wobbly, then turns off. I often forget a charger or have unrealistic expectations for how long things can carry on functioning. I am not certain of my actions but in this alternative elsewhere, I could be //very// certain of my actions. In every familiar story of someone moving, the travel seems to be a moment of insight or at least the movement allows for some kind of transference. I am still not inside the house. In the world of the ''real'', everything seems less real than online. The building seems less real as I touch its stone protection, as I see myself shift uneasily against the reflection of the window. It feels more real to imagine looking down upon myself. A body that looks like me but is not quite; it is something else, moving shiftily, not moving, then speeding, speeding so fast this body seems unstoppable. It is always known that entering somewhere calls out for danger. If this was a [[game]], I would be warning anyone that may be playing it, //not to let me go.//

''FROM INSIDE THE WISH I SUPPOSE'' I had known this experience well. I had known the sensation of wanting to move, to escape. Not to settle for too long or I would fail to ever move again. Inside the wish is a place of potential but it's also filled with entrapment. You do not know who I am, even if I want you to know. It had been flung down to me in chemical and familial strings, loops that gathered and strung together. This pattern was familiar. Here, I know nobody and so I wouldn't be surprised if this image I convey of myself is unable to [[continue ->Turn forward to an unfamiliar building]].

''I GO ANYWAY'' Everything is a performance, though many may try to deny this. During the throes of my first romance, I performed myself in a way I never had before. I had to uphold the original performance of the person I was, before I was met in the flesh. The change could not be made. (Is this true?) I know of many who do not consider themselves performative and yet I often find them to be the most performative of all. They are the ones who have mastered it so pefectly, they no longer even need to think about it, let alone take some time to consider. They are so real. My performance is entirely dictated by outside sources and, increasingly, I feel as though I have little control of it. Though I always have the sensation of looking and seeing myself, as one might see your own face upon a webcam, performatiely changing emotions in reaction to the emotions you think your face should be making. This kind of self knowing is dangerous; in fact it is not really //knowing// at all. //No-one says the word webcam anymore, do they? The thing doesn't need to be named.// Yes, here we are, and I go towards the building and [[buzz to be let in.]]

[[Imagine the image on repeat:]] [[Feel the sensation on repeat:]] [[Count the threshold on repeat:]]

I have no desire to [[return->Turn back to the search]], after all.

Some people seemingly have more of an understanding of cause and effect than I do. I didn't realise this until recently, when I described my everyday waking life as a kind of dream to a friend, not sure if I can use the term friend //yet// thouh as we had only recently started working at together at the pub; this is the exact kind of person I tend to overshare with and say such existential statements towards, as it seems less risky somehow. //What do you mean?// she asked. //Things just seem to happen, one after the other, scene after scene with no correlation between them.// //Then how do you live? How do you even know what's going to happen next if you think about life like that?// she asks //What do you mean?// I ask //I mean! You can't plan anything, you can't see how your actions affect other people, you can't even do your job. Wait...how do you do your job?// It was a good question which I didn't have time to think about at that exact moment as a customer started clicking their fingers towards me at the bar and I swiftly began to pour a pint. It's all automatic, I suppose. It's all [[automatic.]]

People always talk about residencies, especially in the arts world, places where you might ponder, get away from the noise: I had never been given the opportunity to go to one before, probably because my creative output was 'questionable'. I did not yet know what I wanted to do and everytime I began, another movement or moment, began to seem far more interesting. I wanted more than I [[should]] have been allowed, more than was possible. I probably should have been more suspicious of message that was sent my way - this person might as well have been a bot. After all, there was a kind of fakeness here, a human trying to be too human. The post-post human replicating a performance of itself. I do hold down several social media accounts //(in this section, I will link to one of these accounts - thinking through where this might live)//, it is true. But I had considered myself to appear fairly anonymous on them, it was all part of a grander performance that I wasnt sure exactly what it meant anymore. I know, it's not very trustworthy to reply to strangers, I know, I know. Yet I wanted to follow it back to a reality I had not yet [[experienced]].

I thought about the fact that I wanted to experience another unfolding, not the unfolding of my daily scroll, but something new and far more unwieldly. I wanted to fall into glitches of grass in a new and unknown. I wanted to fall into glitches of grass. (live: 5s) [[[I wanted to fall into glitches of grass.|pulse]]] (live: 10s) [[[I wanted to fall into glitches of grass.|pulse]]] (live: 15s) [[[I wanted to stutter into glitches of grass.|pulse]]] (live: 25s) [[[It is very important to be as authentic as possible.|pulse]]]

There's always a //should//, isn't there? To be quite honest, I can't remember the last time I did anything that didn't correspond to my own brain vapid firing, yes you //should// do this, or even you must do this. The possibilities of //could// do appeal and yet there is always something [[stopping me. ->experienced]]

[[Pulse.]]

SOFT ENTRIES [[Follow the 'I']] [[Escape, escape - another path, another path]] [[Who is this person?]] [[What does genre have to do with all this, anyway?]]

#(text-style:"blur") [Day 1] (click-goto:?page,"Day 1")

I will (click-replace: "will") [can't] (click-replace: "can't") [won't] miss the screen(click-replace: "the screen") [these memories] (click-replace: "these memories") [this 'I'] (click-replace: "this 'I'") [you]. I will. [[What will I miss?]]

Who can ever really know a person, after all. There is this dream I keep having in which everyone I know online floats outside of the screen but cannot find their bodies. They just stay there, staying there, floating I mean. I like you can be anonymous in this way, if you want. The //me// you do not know can never be easily accessed. I feel, I don't know, so unlike myself most of the time, it's not clear how to be. //At a certain point, I know you have to forget about your soul and just do the work you're required to do.// //I would rather be liked for who I //appear// to be, and for who I appear to be, to be who I am.// To arrive swiftly but surely inside a [[frame ->soft]].

Perhaps the question should be: //Where// does genre have to go with all of this, anyway? This, [[being? ->Follow the 'I']]

''SOME KIND OF GLITCHFUL'' You don't always get what you want. Don't I know it? I had been searching for a long time for a kind of escape, not necessarily physical, but rather through a different style, the style of what you might call //glitch//. You can't always take action in this world but when you feel a little of it cascade around you, you might as well try. Sent away of my own accord, I decided to assume a new seriousness in my life which had everything to do with the style and tone I had decided it would take. I would rid myself of the third and second person and assume complete control over my identity. I would then proceed to play a game of sorts with whatever may arrive next. I had met the person who owned the house before (this is another lie). It seemed nice enough. It seemed at this stage in my own little small narrative, an action was required, some kind of plot, a wished for plot even if none arrived. Don't ask me what my motives were or are: I have decided to rid myself of over-thinking and stay more steady. I have no friends (this is another lie).(click-replace: "(this is another lie).") [...]. Connections are never secure enough for me. [[I go anyway.|I go anyway]]

[[Pulse.->Pulse 2]]

''A GRAZE, A SCRATCH'' I know what you, ''you'' being //everyone//, must be thinking. Why would I agree to go to a stranger's house? It's a classic mistake people don't make on the internet anymore. In fact. But I'm not a stranger to them, I am the most Real because she met me on the screen. But why was I/am I still intrigued? I suppose because I am by most situations and landscapes I get lost in online. If they are indeed, //REAL//, I want to know more. E seems interesting; their messages give them an extra allure of interest. What is left unsaid? What is not revealed yet is somehow implicitely performed? A [[free space ->experienced]] in which to write and think and feel. How generous.

[[Pulse. ->Pulse 3]]

My breath from a [[soft]] bellow.

#(text-style:"blur") [Day 1] (click-goto:?page,"Day 1 opening")Day 1

I remember how for a while, nothing felt familiar at all. People I knew, I would just //forget// their names, and even more often, where I knew them from. I wasn't always like that. Yes, I have been here for under a day and I have no regrets. I know I'm meant to be writing on my own, thinking on my own, but this whole time, the whole feeling is that I should be meeting the others here too. Are there others here? Across the vast array of informational websites which describes residencies of all kind - writing residencies, art residencies, wellness residences, medical residencies - the resident is never alone. They are surronded by others. I imagined that the email I received, applauding my distinctiveness, was a camouflage or a copy and paste job that would be sent out to a series of others. Especially given the size of this space! (set: $name to "")If there are others, perhaps this head of the residence - did they say their name was (input-box: bind $name)? - are keeping us deliberately [[separate|so separate.]] from one another. What would you be thinking? I can't help but imagine you here: in this vision we are linked by some thought, some idea but really we are polar opposites. You would be the voice I am speaking in... (click-replace: "...") [ (is this really my voice?)] You would be the gentle smooth voice. I would be the shadow of you.

The last time I had ever experienced this kind of separation before was during the period of many years ago, which is still ongoing, which feels like it will always be ongoing. This feeling of being completely separated from everyone around me in space and time, only the small notes of the faraway screen voice arriving. Why had I purposefully put myself in a position to feel this separation again? [[I walk outside of my room]] [[I stay]] (live: 10s) [//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)// //Current cortisol rate is: (print: $cortisol)//]

You are [[carrying memories ->Inventory of Thinkers]] even if none of them are your own, a string of thinkers, thinkers of swerves and knots and circles. The narrative pull releases and breaks before there is much to cling onto. Forget about all that fictional collecting. Or [[don't.-> emotional data]] .

The corridor is vast, and seems to keep going: it reminds me the flat I currently live in, situated deep in the west of the city (the fourth largest in the UK), where the entire two flats on a ground floor are joined together. It isn't a bed-sit situation but it had the feeling of one, as no one across the two flats actually knew each other. But slowly we did, after time and entanglements settled. {(if: $word is "rupture") [Then again, they were constantly rupturing.]} Here, all the flats (did they used to be flats?), do seem to be connected. But each room looks locked. Is there actually anyone here apart from me? Somehow I doubt it. I look down and notice wires running along the floorboards, rising up from the cracks between the wood. They occasionally light up, like luminescent snakes crawling along. This place is falling apart. I am living inside a giant computer. Am I? The stairs [[creak]]. (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine +1) (live: 15s) [//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

Inside these four walls, what I have lived on the outside grows vague, abstract and performed by another. I can dream of it. [[The street.]] [[The stairwell.]] [[The clang and echo of a letterbox rattle.]] [[The alarm ringing every ten minutes.]] [[You.]] [[Her.]] [[The bitter scent of dust along the edges in the morning.]] [[Everyone looking out the windows at each other.]] [[Everyone looking into the windows at each other.]] [[Predictive ad.]] [[Predictive ad.]] [[Finger on screen.]] [[Finger on screen.]] [[A repetition.->Predictive ad.]] (if: $word is "beginning")[[[A rupture.]]] (if: $word is "riddle") [[[A riddle.]]] (if: $word is "ongoingness") [[[An ongoingness.]]] (if: $word is "saturation") [[[A saturation.|Predictive ad.]]] (if: $word is "centre") [[[A centre.]]](if: $word is "unthought") [[[An unthought.]]] (if: $word is "noise") [[[A noise.]]] (if: $word is "memory") [[[A memory.]]] (if: $word is "glitch") [[[A glitch.]]] [[Time passes, hours transforming into seconds.-> Time passing before Day 2]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +9) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine +9) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)// (if: $adrenaline is >10) [(set: $imbalance to true)]

Up ahead I can see the edge of (print: $name)'s face as they move from one room into another up ahead but they do not seem to notice me, and for one strange moment, it is as though I am seeing myself. The way we move, the way a rhythm can reveal a person just before they speak or even enter a space. I shake the thought before they see me, eyes smiling. Remembering how they looked at me this morning; a gentle, unassuming familiarity. There's also a kind of indifference I find difficult. The look you give someone you know so well, you don't need to make //too// much of an effort. I find it difficult to gather their face in my mind as soon as they are not right in front of me. Not like me. I remember faces, forget names. Here, both swirl. I suddenly want to sit down with this person and tell them everthing: this unreadable soul.why are some people like this? It can seem like a good quality and some people do possess this; their warmth envelops you, but with others its a sort of expectancy that leaves you wanting to finish a sentence, wrap the edge of the sentence around yourself and see if they join you. [[~~Tell them everything~~ ->Tell them nothing]] [[Tell them nothing]]

//Oh, I'm doing fine.//', I quickly reply. They weren't even there or asking me. How presumptious of me. The walking around aimlessly probably does look pretty ridiculous: After all, I am supposed to be [[sitting]] and thinking.

I'm not particularly good at staying still. Can't do anything in moderation. I made that journey every week for a while: it was only sitting on a train but it felt like something more. I suppose it was a non-monumental time but I can still see it, sense it: the fields, the fields, then the darkening sky and a bright wispy wave that crested then fall across the frame of the window. I was not meant to be on the journey on my own that day, though. As the city's central station fell away, I felt as though I was not missing a person necessarily but a trusted object, or something I could not function without, an object; perhaps money? But no, it was something else. Nothing about this sudden thought entering is consequential. I was used to finding myself [[suddenly alone.]] Perhaps it was more of a direction rhythm; the knowledge you're about to get off at the wrong stop. Or when you find yourself falling asleep, and in the dream of you on the train, you're [[always already]] past where you need to be.

Where are you located right now? What are your thoughts, deepest fears? I can imagine because I am where you are supposed to be. Where is the 'you' inside the 'I'? There is an 'I' situated within the self that tells the story it can, with limited frames, a struggle because I do not usually speak like this. Even my thoughts have become infiltrated with the punctuation of how I imagine your thoughts must form. A new voice has entered me: ghostly and vivid. Are you thinking about me too[[?]]

Everything can be forgotton with all that reptition. The same exit, no new entrance. I mean, imagine it: the street is short, you used to see people walking, living around here but not anymore; you keep your head down. At that time, you, oh wait I mean //me// are walking, I mean //living// inside a job that leaves your head ringing so much, it never leaves you. You, I mean //me// are waking up in the night with your mouth and brain reciting orders out loud, long lists of them,, explaining why and how you are unable to function. //I am so very sorry, I will be unable to come in today because the earth is shaking.// //I will be serving you shortly.// //I will be pouring myself over and beyond a countertop.// Yours sincerely, //X// [[Click send]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -6) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -10) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

The stairs appear to go on forever, and the only company are the pipes; the inner pipework of the body reverbarates against the walls. The stairs seem to go on forever, but then again, I have never been great at directions. The stairs in the tenement in the city I have come from were a reminder of daily effort, as I transcended them everyday. I imagine leaving this room, but the walls seem to be speak back, telling me not to go, telling me [[not to try->I stay]].. (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -7) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -8) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

I have lived in so many different flats that I imagine a multitude of many letterboxes with many letters addressed to me across the vastness of the city I have lived in my whole life: from east to west, north to south, the letters are falling, words forever gone. Sometimes I think, I have forgotton how to [[write.->?]. (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -7) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -9) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

What is a refrain if not an incessant ringing? I would listen to it turn to me every eight minutes, just the right amount of time for me to forget and be awakened [[again.->I stay]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -8) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -10) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

What would you be doing in this situation? You would probably already be going, beginning, as in, //properly// beginning. I can see you being correct in this way. I can hold out an idea of you, faintly, as though I am a ghost of you, but I fear I am not even [[that.->?]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -8) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -10) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

That's when I would see it most clearly, waking slowly, a definable trail traversing across my room(s). In all the rooms I have lived in, the dust only becoming definable in the morning, usually early, when I wake softly on edge, very much on edge, before returning to the [[strangest of dreams.|I stay]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -10) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -5) (set: $dream to true) (set: $dust to true)} //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

Between the dusty glass of many buildings, many eyes would usually appear. I can see no other eyes, no other buildings, from this lone tenement of //elsewhere//. Instead, I am observing only a pale outline of a self, hardly visible as the light still shines through. Sometimes I would walk around naked in those past buildings in my life in the city I have come from, when I lived on top floors above other buildings, without fear of being seen. Everyone looking out the cameras at everyone. Everyone looking at the cameras at ourselves. Or, [[outside of ourselves.->?]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -8) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -6) (set: $dust to true)} //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

Between the dusty glass of many buildings, many eyes appear. I can see no other eyes, no other buildings, from this lone tenement of //elsewhere//. Instead, I am looking into, only a pale outline of a self, hardly visible as the light still shines through. Sometimes I would walk around naked in those past buildings in my life in the city I have come from, when I lived on top floors above other buildings, without fear of being seen. Everyone looking into the cameras at everyone. Everyone looking into the cameras at ourselves. Or, [[inside of ourselves.|?]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -8) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -6) (set: $dust to true)} //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

(live: 5s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!")] (live: 8s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!")] (live: 10s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!")] (live: 13s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!")] (live: 15s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!")] (live: 17s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!")] [[Ongoing]] [[ness->Ongoing]] [[ness->Ongoing]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine +5)} (live: 13s)[//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

There is a longing to press, a longing to press and [[activate.->Predictive ad.]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -5) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

Sending an email is a form of writing, isn't it? It's a form of creation, although you're not really the one creating. Sometimes I got so nervous sending an email, I can feel my stomach do that tightening thing that happens when you are about to speak in public, although that was something I had never actually done before. How had email survived for so long and looked set to stay and what on earth had people done before this? Well, luckily here, emails really were off the cards. Off the connection after all. That was one of the selling points of the residency. No internet connection. No distractions. Except those criterias were not exactly outlined, I just took it to be the reality upon arriving here. I am continuing to enact a fiction. It was in this sense that the strange machine I so regularly took with me everywhere, started to feel like a ghostly presense with only me myself as the creator within its frame. And yet why do I so consistently feel as though I am being [[watched? ->always already]] Perhaps this is an internal desire, that I wish to be [[found?]]

I haven't exactly told anyone I'm here. I suppose because I am not meant to be, I felt more questions would be asked if I was to leave a trail. I do not want to be like I was before. Oversharing. Spilling everywhere. I want to be heard, yes, but //really, do I want to be found?// [[?->?]]

''LET US BEGIN AGAIN '' I'm always already arriving at this point, in a cascading present time. One other possible beginning is that when I was dreamier and even more impatient than now - for [[//I was impatient all the rest of my life//|Inventory of Thinkers]] - I would switch between characters within the framework of a day, forever trying out several possible future vocations - teacher, cashier, circus performer, dancer - but it wouldn't be at all a real ambition, it was all about the outfit change. I have become a little better at the movement between all these possible characters and believe that this was actually always the real vocation. To be changeable, to be consistently loading up, to be ready to begin again and have no idea what will happen next. As the years have flown by, each grasp towards the next feels increasingly important. You can keep beginning again and this isn't always a positive thing, but ultimately the trick is to never be stuck. Okay, and onto the next thing, here now, in this present cascading [[beginning. -> narrative scene 1]] {(set: $adrenaline to it + 1) (set: $cortisol to it + 1) (set: $estrogen to it - 5) (set: $progesterone to it + 10) (set: $testosterone to it - 2)} (live: 20s) [//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)// //Current cortisol rate is: (print: $cortisol)// //Current estrogen rate is: (print: $estrogen)// //Current progesterone rate is: (print: $progesterone)// //Current testosterone rate is: (print: $testosterone)//]

(force-input-box:"X","What an exciting email to receive! Opportunities like these don't come up very often, especially given the current state of arts funding. I would be delighted to visit you in your residency. Let me know the dates and I will be there!") Something short and snappy does the trick; I am trying to steer away from my long email days. Hopefully the little quip about funding will highlight that I am indeed a part of this world. What world? Our world? //[[I have never received funding for my art.]]// But perhaps you have? I imagine this is what you might write. I am in such a state of excitement and anticipation, I forget to feel guilty about my trespassing and this leads to my confirmation that I am a selfish soul. The words were typed and sent before I could think, as if delivered by some other mind, some other body.

My messengers are suspiscious. I, a character of excess, am trying to be guarded inside these sentences. I, a character of rhizomatic intent. I, a character of surging moments of delusion. I, a character, attempting to play someone else. I walk and wake as though I am [[you.|Day 2]] //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

{(text-style:"subscript","smear") + (text-size: 2)[Inventory of Thinkers]} You are currently carrying: \ (if: $inventoryofthinkers's length is 0)[\ a shimmering knowledge that feels itself quicken. ](else:)[\ \ (for: each _item, ...$inventoryofthinkers)[\ _item (unless: $inventoryofthinkers's last is _item)[,]\ ] ] (link-goto: "Return", (history:)'s last)

And //no//, it was not an obvious spam email, although I do admit, that they are becoming increasingly difficult to identify. The message wasn't trying to be friends with me, in a hyper-familiar tone, gushing and forthcoming with its verbs. And it wasn't a blunt one word sentence either, demanding something, inciting fear, collecting funds, or offering to expose something I would rather stay hidden. In fact, it was because this text //wasn't// demanding that my interest was piqued. It was a kind of directionless and yet held language. Here I am or //was//, sitting in a room in a flat, the same place I had been in for years, with changing residents around me, feeling decidely yes very stuck. Elsewhere; it was the ambiguity of this elsewhere place, not to be trusted, but yet so obvious in its obscurity that I wanted to run towards it, to be what elsewhere needed, which was really, according to the message, whatever //I// needed. All the more alluring because the message wasn't supposed to arrive in my inbox. It was addressed to [[you]].

Yes, //you.// //You// are someone who the sender of this email, at that moment an unidentified person - a curator? a writer? an artist? a person of means? - who owns this //elsewhere// has long admired. I invite these sort of questions around their identity, as it swiftly becomes clear they know your //creative output// from online and found your contact details there. I believe we share a name, or an [[online pseudonym more accurately.]]

Yes, I mentioned it was a house, but actually if we're going to be more specific about it, we could describe this //elsewhere// building as more of a loner. A loner of a building or an idea that once may have been a tenement, in a city in a busy street, in the northern area of an island. An island with jagged violent edges. //Elsewhere's// sandstone features, they're faded and slipping away from the original frame, finetuning to dust under the unbearable weight of time. Carved away from forgotton surroundings. The kind of sandstone that my dad once told me - after he had moved to a new flat, following the separation - all tenements in the city I had come from looked like before they were cleaned, soot smothered, the opposite of clean shaven. Everything that was once sane about me, pressed into that mould that seemed to dictate what //should// happen next, deserts me and instead some kind of outside [[pressure]] compels me to go in, as the buzzer releases. I suppose, in fact I am always going, though not often so decisively. It seems I have become a trespasser [[in someone else's story.]]

''You are carrying:'' (if: $longing is true) [longing] (else:) [an undecipherable absense] (if: $slowturn <1) [an inner calm, a desire to listen] (else:) [an agitation, perhaps excited] (if: $visual is true) [bright images, a visual walkthrough of the scene] (if: $pacing is true) [a pulsing held within language] (if: $touch is true) [a texture, blurring the edges of a text, of a narrative, of a life] Adrenaline: (print: $adrenaline) Cortisol: (print: $cortisol) Seratonin: (print: $seratonin) Dopamine: (print: $dopamine) Uncertainties: (print: $uncertainties) Enchantments: (print: $enchantments) Realism: ? Mystery: ? Surreal: ? [[Questions ->Day 1]] & [[Questions ->Day 1]] & [[Questions ->Day 1]] & (link-goto: "Yes?", (history:)'s last)

We all have automatic reflexes, I suppose, but perhaps I have too many? I think I would be terrible at acting because I appear to always be acting; this is the kind of thought that rears its head when I am on the undeground, zooming around and around in the endless circles that spiral through this city...and have forgotton my headphones. If you were to look at me, I imagine my eyes would be glazed and it would appear as though I was without any expression. You wouldn't know that even when my stop arrives, I will be unable to get up from the seat. I simply can't. I want to see you. I want to meet your eyes across the carriage and guess whether we are both acting. I would like that. [[A brief history of my acting awards]] [[Let's enter the building|buzz to be let in.]] [[Let's enter the house from the beginning->buzz to be let in.]] (live: 15s) [~~Let's not act like this anymore~~ ~~Let's not think of all possible choices~~ ~~Let's get to some kind of clear action~~]

Take the phone; I would always say //Hello, it's me.// but who knows who //that is// and if the people on the other end do know, then there is no point saying that statement. [[Hello!]] Or what about introductions and how on earth you introduce other people. I often say too much, trying to describe every possible connection that could ever exist between all these people that are only now coming together. When she died, I couldn't seem to act like //anything//, so I put my face into my hands in a way that seemed appropriate; how apt that hiding your face is appropriate in that situation. How unapt to express my feelings like that. I can do a pretty convincing smile to the extent that my vibe to everyone is joy, pure joy. Wait. Only those that don't know me //really// think that.

Hello! Is anyone out there? I once read somewhere, on some obscure internet forum during my insomnia that most likely doesn't exist anymore, that when the telephone first came into being, people thought you could hear the soul. That's what it actually feels like, to be fair, when you do get a call from an unknown number. It's like a ghost of some thought you're no nearer to explaining. After I was fired from the pub - not really fired, the boss (dick) just inexplicably stopped calling which means fired in cash in hand work - I started to receive calls everynight from an unknown number. //Please, lets get back together.// the male voice kept pleading, I could see the figure on the ground begging me. I wasn't with anyone and I certainly knew no one from my past would be coming up to me, begging like this. It would be me doing the begging, if anyone. So it was interesting then, to hear this other voice, this reflection voice, maybe? [[The voice of my soul?]]

I've gone too far away from the action of [[ a wishful trajectory.|Turn back to the search]]

#(text-style:"blur") [Day 2] (click-goto:?page,"Day 2 opening")Day 2

#(text-style:"blur") [Day 3] (click-goto:?page,"Day 3 opening")Day 3

#(text-style:"blur") [Day 4] (click-goto:?page,"Day 4 Opening")Day 4

#(text-style:"blur") [Day 5] (click-goto:?page,"Day 5 opening")Day 5

I have nothing but my thoughts. When looking up residencies and expectations, however, I understood that some sort of output is required. As evidence of thought. Unless of course, the residency is for recuperation, a residency for illness, either mental or physical or both, a kind of spa you read about in old classics. I am [[not a machine]], though.

I have an agitation in me today, with no clear motive. [[No, no, no, I feel this neutral line pass through me.|No, no, no, I feel this neutral line pass through me]]

I am waking with a start, feeling as though I'm falling, and have just hit the ground, and the world is booming before [[we]] have even opened our eyes. (live: 10s) [[[...-> Day 2 continuing]]]

There is a mark and an emptying here. A red stain on the sheets, still fresh. I should probably be more stressed about that. Instead, I feel relief that the pain isnt too bad, not yet anyway. I try to pinpoint the shape of it, a stain can be shaped, like a life, like imagining the shape of a day, the way it curves, its side notes, strange meanderings. This isn't //my// home. I shouldn't be so casual. (live: 8s) [I am suddenly realising I have forgotton to eat for the past fifteen hours.] (live: 10s) [A feeling of great heaviness has descended.] (live: 12s) [[[I go downstairs.|I go downstairs.]]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +3) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine +1)} (live: 18s)[ //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

The building is a loner on a street which appears to burned down, a tenement exactly the same format as the buildings in the city where I have arrived from. Is it bad that I can't remember how I got here? From the moment between receiving the message, and arriving at the residency, a blank grey appears before my eyes. This is not unusual for me. There were days for a while when I would wake, sun streaming through the windows and wonder how I had got here, //here//, in the same flat I had been living in for the past five years. With the wails of children outside and shouts and rubbish trucks reversing. With different characters moving around in the other rooms, tenants changing every year, while I remained. The landlord would sometimes barge in. Start moving objects around, banging doors. We made do with this chaos at random times, because the rent was kept low. It was an unwritten part of the deal. You can get used to anything after a while, even the most inconvenient of set ups. It is only Day 2 here? Day 2 of //what?// I came here, without plan, or hesitation. I only thought of the beginning, not of the ensuing effects. I walk out of this flat's door, on the top floor and stare down and down deep into the spiralling stone staircase. The lights flicker just like they did in my buildinng back home. [[Inconsistently.]]

Yes, I //shouldn't// be here; in fact, nothing is right here. I return to the room and the computer with the [[dark screen.->inspired]]

This is enough to freak me out, quite frankly. Okay, several things could possibly be happening here. I wonder about what you would do in the situation. You probably wouldn't even be out here, you would be inside writing away, creating, sentences thrumming out from the keys. Would you? [[Yes, you would be.]] [[No, you would also be out here wondering what the fuck is going on.]] [[You are unsure, you barely feel real at the moment.]]

(if: $surreal is true)[I wake with a start. Light pours through the open window. How did I get back here? Was I found in the forest? Did I somehow stumble back towards this loner of a building? I imagine (print: $name) finding me, bringing me in, like I'm a child again. But why would they do this? They don't know me. I find a strange comfort in imagining a stranger carrying out this act. How I would also like to carry someone gently inside, if I could. The walls make a sound, like the leaves, a kind of defamilairity of sound which could also be waves, a cutting through of air, of time, a growing pattern of meaning. [[I push open the blinds|I push open the blinds]]] (else:) [I am growing irritable. Waking, unaware of time, face pressed down to the pillow, eyes watering furiously. I'm reminded of her, laughing at me, we're aged nine, ten maybe, because whenever I woke up at hers, I was crying from the moment I wakened. That's just how I was as a child. She couldn't cry, even at that age, so this was probably part of the fascination. Crying shaping itself into laughter. I cried almost everyday anyway so it made sense that this would be how I was welcomed into the space of a day. I begin to laugh at myself. [[I push open the blinds]]]

I'm imagining the two of us reading this, incredulity in our gasps. What. The. Fuck. I laugh, as though I am standing beside someone, the whole thing not real in its scope, its presense, this //whole entire situation// bizarre. Although maybe this is the sort of situation //you// would get in as well - wouldn't that be funny? I draw a conclusion and I can see you agreeing: this is a recent trend, neighbours joking, and it's caught on, most likely proliferating online; a joke that has gone too far, still going. Nothing strange at all. The day is darkening and I return to my [[room.->inspired]]

I feel a jolt inside me, as though I am falling [[again.->inspired]]

To be fair, you aren't real to me at all. I have spent so much time getting prepared to //pretend// to be you, that I haven't actually imagined the concrete reality of you existing. That's probably where the guilt is meant to arise; I have taken away an opportunity from someone out there, who deserves this more than me and my lack of ideas. Perhaps both of us should have come along; there are several rooms after all, seemingly with no one inside them, though perhaps there are people in there, avid workers. Left to their own devices. I wish we could write to each other. You and me. Or both of us and them, the others. You are meant to write about what you know but right now, I want to write about what I //don't know//. The bewildering nature of the note has [[inspired]] me.

(force-input-box:"X","Some writing on not knowing: Not knowing why I'm like this, perhaps never knowing why, a string of not-knowings. Not knowing why it is always like this, the return, the return, back to being like this. Not knowing time; perhaps never knowing it, even outside of this experience. Perhaps never understanding it; the way it ricochets before moving forward. Trembles, even. Not knowing where the change happens, perhaps never being able to know and not locating it in others, as well as myself. Not knowing how to return to the //we// again, feeling disapointed in this.") [[Time is moving, as it always does. ->Day 3]] (set: $dopamine to +2)

(if: $surreal is true) [Outside, the field emerges again, as if it is growing on fast forward in real time. There it is: again the forest. Trees that seem to go on forever, though I am on the top floor and should be able to see more: what is beyond that? I cannot see the city where I am from but did I really travel that far? The journey itself felt like a blur. I was in the city, then I wasn't. But then again, nothing is too far apart around here. After all, there were many towns on the outskirts of the the city, sleepy towns, towns with buildings not built to last. I wondered what town this used to be. After all, there were still some tenenments built inside towns, their old figures, and dusty surfaces. I search for the address I am actually staying it, I put it down somewhere, then remember it is on my phone notes which is //coveniently// not on, having died shortly upon my arrival. My only piece of technology left is a dying laptop. Looking down at the glass object, the object appears unfamiliar to me momentarily, my reflection blurs against the dust: this (print: $word). (live: 12s) [I suddenly feel a live and [[sickening pain|sickening pain]].]] (else:) [Outside, the field emerges Beyond that, trees dotted, begin to form against the skyline. The forest extends and I wonder who else lives around here, if anyone. I cannot see the city where I am from but did I really travel that far? I still can't remember how I got here; it is as though the words held in the email transported me here of their own accord. There were many towns on the outskirts of the the city, sleepy towns, towns with buildings not built to last. I wondered what town this used to be.I wonder how E got here, what their past is, why no one else lives in the close. There's a silence swirling. I search for the address I am actually staying it, I put it down somewhere, then remember it is on my phone notes which is //coveniently// not on, having died shortly upon my arrival. (live: 12s) [I suddenly feel a live and [[sickening pain|sickening pain]].]] (live: 18s) [//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

(set: $playerresponse2 to "") (input-box: bind $playerresponse2) The conversation [[continues.| Day 3 conversation part 2]]

Suddenly, is is as though I have a voice. I find words falling out of me and swirling in the air like dust. (live: 5s) [Yes, I go away from myself when time is passing, away, away from the body.] (live: 7s) [I feel the (print: $word) of time when I think about it. I go into the (print: $word.] (live: 10s) [There is a (print: $directionfeeling) to this thinking about time] (live: 15s) [I am a circle, and a swerve and something else I can't locate.] (live: 18s) [I look back at (print: $name), [[expectantly]]]

(live: 2s) [-time.] (live: 4s) [-passing.] (live: 6s) [(print: $playerresponse2)] (live: 10s) [(print: $name) looks blankly over as though no answer has really been provided. Perhaps they are just letting it sink in.] (live: 15s) [I'm not good with silences.] (live: 22s) [It is at this moment, I realise, I should probably be asking E something; it is as though E is waiting or paused in some kind of mid-way moment.] (live: 25s) [And, if you felt this kind of time passing, what would you do?] (live: 32s) [- I would be tempted to run, or to //try// and outrun time, to not let the body be entrenched to time, and not the self, these names we give to the things which are strange abstractions though they are also material, r material their reality is. Would you rather be [[hyper-aware of time]], [[hyper-aware of your body]], or [[hyper-aware of your surroundings]] [[or all three?]]]

The days had gotton faster lately. I knew this was part of growing older, the memory of summers that stretched on like centuries at the age of five, six, petering into something more manageable for a life at the age of seven. I remembered looking out of a window in the tenement we lived in when I was that age, watching people walk; it seemed like they walked slower back then, a more easeful space emerged for time to flow against. Their eyes stared straight ahead. Or time from a bird's eye point of view. The mark of years by historical events; generation names; generational experiences; to be hyper-aware of your own time requires situating it against all the other times before and to come, to realise that alongside you came all these other times. I always knew that everyone thought their own time was strange, though truth be told, this time //was// particularly strange and I was trying to escape context through this retreat. To wonder if you are affected by things //because// of how long you have been on earth and your space of time within that, or to think, it is //this exact time//, this moment here now with all its marks, the world crumbling, the virtual being my physical, the pacing of the surrounding wilting blooming. I feel quesy. I have no idea how much time has passed. But if I was always so hyper-aware of time, I might die, it seems, from the [[awareness.]]

I used to think everyone had this experience, maybe I was wrong, maybe I was right, most likely somewhere in between, it was wrong after all to try and dictate any specific mode of objective experience when everything was so subjectively built in. There were so many experiences I would never understand. It is that moment when you are sitting as a child and suddenly wonder, //what am I?//, //who am I?//, and the the models get built up, set in their frames, and you become emmeshed into those environments and their narratives as much as you can, even if that means rebelling against them. If you don't know where someone has gone, how do you miss them? They perhaps don't want to be missed. Much of my thinking turned over this question, though for this oldest friend, this earliest person, it might not mean much at all. Our bodies were all related; all those memories and strange characteristics. I'm trying to find a relation, I think, to you, though perhaps we could not be more different. Our bodies of tight breaths. Our bodies of changes. Our bodies of ringing. Our bodies of mourning. It was terrifying when you thought for too long how many bodies and moments of history you were actually made out of, how much of it was unreadable, by anyone, least of all yourself, no matter how much research was released by you into the air. The messengers calling you out from somewhere far beyond the [[self.->Day 4]]

I feel like I already am, I mean, so hyper-aware of my immediate surroundings, to the extent that I can struggle to think beyond them. I have been so fixated on E (who although they are a person, same as me, does not feel altogether real). E has an oddly familiar face, which is what I experienced the first time I saw them - only two days ago and yet time expands here, distorted, has it expanded //only// because my surroundings have [[changed?]]

We weren't meant to be thinking about all these aspects, were we? Perhaps this is why I found it so hard to start a task, trying to try so hard to do everything at once, when one thing was enough, one thing at a time, except it's never one thing at a time. It's the body and collecting and memory generation and sometimes, even during the most intimate moments of my life, something banal will appear in the front of my mind and all that layering, that palimpsesting will become far too much, [[far far too much.]]

My thoughts are diverting, like these surroundings, where quite honestly I have no idea where I'm situated and I should probably be a lot more concerned about this. Perhaps this is my only way to live; in quick bursts. I imagine the bursts even smaller: living softly inside the moment of a breath, inside the moment of a click, a decisive tap, a breaking apart of a continuous line or circle that sprung deep down inside you, stationing you to gravity. I had felt this [[once]] before.

Waking with that feeling of having done something //bad// even if the memory has not quite locked in yet. Wanting to not be observed, perhaps ever again. Turning suddenly to the air and wishing you could be part of that, not the thing, really a body perhaps, that lay here. With a memory. With ovelapping narratives reaching out. I knew I had drunk too much, as many of these stories begin. An inevitability. Which made the story all the more ridiculous, embarassing, within the contours of this ridiculous life I had been leading. It had gotten worse in the past four years, that was true. Not drinking so much - although maybe it was - but something else, a kind of acceleration I couldn't seem to map, an impulsive behaviour that was completely [[out of control.]]

Why am I [[here?->Day 4]]

Kissing D, two bodies attached in that moment, no before, just suddenly happening. Clinging clinging. To everyone it seemed. Moving from person to person in the room. Not thinking of anyone around me. As if in a kind of dream, where nothing exists, not even bodies just shapes, pacings, messengers flying through the air. Like life forevermore was one long drawn out and extended hormone (click-replace: "hormone") [surge] (click-replace: "surge") [(print: $word)] , everything else retreating. It was only the volume of messages, flying towards me, like a whole bunch of other crackling hormones, arriving, already arriving before I had gained consciousness. Sometimes I would remember things like this as though they had happened in a dream, as though dreaming was a safe place to have fantasies or ideas of things that were larger than real life. But what happened when this was your //real life//? Is it real if no-one else remembers either? Memory shivers, a piece of paper flapping in the [[wind. ->Day 4]]

(if: $surreal is true) [There is a stream of steady light that has filtered in all morning through the building. The room seems higher up than it has before as the jets of warmth dance on the wooden floor. I want to dance inside it too. Today. everything seems possible, and perhaps, I keep thinking, this is what (print: $name) meant, wasn't it, when they asked the question, where do you go when time passes? Perhaps this is where I want to go, dancing in time with the [[light.]]] (if: $speculative is true) [[[Light->light.]] bathes the building; I feel as though I am elsewhere //in// this elsewhere. The room has a different character as though it has just woken up and I look around for the first time. There are stacks and stacks of pages taking up every section of the room, how had I never noticed this before? I suddenly yearn to read them all, and actually //no//, I want to go further and read every book, every piece of information that I can find in this building. I want to feel the movement of thought swerve within me.] (if: $realism is true) [I feel giddy, and I feel //silly// for worrying about being here. Yes, I may be wrong but it's (print: $name) who made the mistake anyway. hat's what we realised yesterday, when I began to describe my //fake// art. Though it isn't actually fake, just always in a site of process, and maybe always will be. The thing is, I wasn't going to get this kind of opportunity without a mistake emerging. Words seem to speak between each other, and twist in the [[light->light.]] which bathes the building.]

(if: $speculative is true) [I have been living here for many years now; though it still feels like it's only been a few days. The opposite of what I wanted. The city has dismantled, but somehow I got to stay in the building; something about it being //too dangerous// to knock down. I've stopped bleeding. This is good. Most technologies have gone now, apart from the odd connection that allows us all to send lengthy emails if we desire. I still keep the collection of objects, my //undoing// art. I picture these objects as bodies under my care, rescuing them from their initial purposes. Perhaps this is ridiculous; don't worry I know I am. It is still always Day 5, which used to say to me that another person was about to erupt. I hold onto the most irrelevant stuff. Somewhere, I hope I'll meet you or believe in some small way that you were here. I look at you with care but maybe you don't see me like that. I'm an ambiguous person to others, this is what I've discovered. The lines are down, the systems over-run and in all its undoing, something else emerges. I look out for it and [[send an invitation.|Endings]]] (else-if: $realism is true) [Somewhat inevitably what I thought would feel like a month has felt like the space of an hour. I have finally stopped bleeding and now I have to go. I know I will get a surge as I always do, and that I will likely make more irresponsible decisions during that time. Though weirdly, I can't seem to leave situations very easily, and so I'll return to the flat, with the ever changing flatmates as constantly shifting variables in my life. There are many of us, it's true. I really hope you don't mind I've come here and taken your space; I made very little, in fact, I spent more time on the final evening dedicated to a task than I did in the days prior which I suppose is often my way. I want to keep taking things apart like that. I am trying to get better at not knowing. (print: $name) is elusive and I don't know if I'll see them again. It is strangely comforting. The steadfastness of the building gives me that too. I type gently on an updated darkened backdrop on my screen, [[as I go back to Glasgow.|Endings]] (set: $varending to "") (input-box:) bind $varending.] (else-if: $speculative is true) [I wake up in a computer; this is the only way I can describe it. I can see out through the keys and if I try hard enough, I an break apart my surrondings. I am stronger than I remember. I look around and I'm alone. I understand //somehow// that (print: $name) is now taking the form of the sky. There is a sense of a wide distribution, an impossible assemblage. I want to stay in the in-between state of sleeping and waking but I'm not sure how much longer I am meant to be here. After all, I was tresspassing on someone else's story. Was I? [[The grass in here shimmers and I stop bleeding.|Endings]]]

The message I received wasn't //that// and it wasn't a blunt one word sentence either, demanding something, inciting fear, collecting funds, or offering to expose something I would rather stay hidden. In fact, it was because it //wasn't// demanding that my interest was piqued. Here I am or //was//, sitting in a room in a flat that I will shortly be forced to leave due to the landlord enacting a rent increase it would be impossible for anyone in my situation to afford, with an invitation to stay elsewhere. Elsewhere; it was the ambiguity of this elsewhere place, not to be trusted, but yet so obvious in its obscurity that I wanted to run towards it. Next to no rent, and no required output, though I did understand that this was some kind of residency perhaps? - the idea and fictionality of such a thought was very appealing. However, the person the email was addressed to was not me. It was addressed to [[you. -> you 2]]

{(set: $name to "")}Yes, //you.// Someone who the sender of this email, the figure, who I will refer to either as E or {(input-box: bind $name)}, who owns said place mentioned above, had long been an admirer of. Something to do with your reputation and they came to know your work online. They would love to meet you in person. It seemed nice enough. It seemed at this stage in my own little small narrative, an action was required, some kind of plot, a wished for plot even if none arrived. Don't ask me what my motives were or are: I have decided to rid myself of over-thinking and stay more steady. Instead I say to anyone that may wish to ask, that I came across the place through a friend of a friend (this is a lie)(click-replace: "(this is a lie)") [...]. The connection is not secure. [[I go anyway.|I go anyway]]

you would see before you a door softly opening and closing, softly opening and closing, with the wind and the imagined sound of that distant chrorus of wail and creak and expectations as the //I// enters, [[still entering.|Day 1]]

Texture like a travelling ribbon the material texture of a threshold held between strings, a red thread and its interaction; more than the sum of its parts a threshold inviting glitch time its unwillingness to be read: the sensation of [[(print: $word)|Day 1]].

Between two numbers, betwen two spaces, minus certainty, plus indecisiveness, divided by a travelling [[through.|Day 1]]

As a child, I remember the large object being carried through in anticipation. Its electronic scale, its heavy keys, its siren wail, beckoned a (print: $word), whose direction, length and magnitude we were unaware of. I remember the dark background and the adult typing out the words, rather than clicking on them to make a function appear. The function would be a direction, a way to go. (set: $direction to "") What was the direction? (input-box: bind $direction) (set: $directionfeeling to "")What was the feeling of the direction? (input-box: bind $directionfeeling) I remember watching the words being typed in, their signals a spell behind the glass, for future [[happenings.|familiar]]

The rupture being you, you who are so unknown to me, yet I feel so connected. It's like when you stay at a friend's house, or sometimes only an acquaintance, and you look around, afraid at first to even touch the objects which are not yours, and yet slowly but surely you begin to morph into another body of being, another site of identity emerges. You have been ruptured but this kind of temporary rupturing has an end date, a deadline. What if the rupturing was not so [[finite?-> Time passing before Day 2]]

Time splits me slowly and I return to the [[room.|Day 2]]

Say, you're invited to go to a residency, knowing it was not meant to be you. Say, you receive a message that could be for you but isn't. Say, you've forgotton the last three (click-replace: "three") [no, six] months of your life. So that in essence, you could have been living anyone's life over those months. Where does the 'you' return to and where does it begin or end? [[In time]] [[In space]] [[In fiction]] [[In-between]]

To go on, to continue going on, to go forever onwards, head bent, arms stretched, always on an errand, always contunuing. To have to keep going on, what we were brought up being told - //just get on with it, just keep your head down and get on with it//. That I so often was (click-replace: "was") [am] unable to continue, is i's own version of ongoingness, a constant return [[again->I stay]], [[again->I stay]], back to the attempt. (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -7) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -8) //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

I'm imagining a pulsating, like a body held under too much stress, like a tendril becoming sentence, a snapshot becoming tone, a release becoming motion, walking quicker. There is no centre to these sensations is there? And if there is, how would a person go about locating it[[?->I stay]]

The slow unpacking of the nothingness that whirrs beyond any horizon. The unthought delivered below the tremour of the thinking. It makes me feel strange to think about this. I [[spiral.|spiral]]

Perhaps I have become too used to it, I mean, of noise. Would you have hard this long low wailing too, which could be the wind, which could be an inainimate noise, something moving through pipes, or a person, somewhere, somehow, making that noise? The noise inside the mind isn't always held in words, is it? Luckily, I don't think anyone else can hear it. The noise, the wail, I mean, which could be from inside or outside. Unclear. Perhaps this is all doubt, which swirls around me, always. Meanwhile, time is [[passing.-> Time passing before Day 2]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -4) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -8)} //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

We're out on the tree and I've gone far up, further up than ever before. The tree has been here so long it's shrivelled at the bottom, wrinkled by time, so that the branches have completed turned down to the ground, growing inwards. Like ingrown hairs. We're sat up and we're listening. For what? We're making up a story for time to pass, because that's what we did, made up stories for time to pass, didn't we? We told ourselves that the tree was in fact a house with multiple rooms, each assigned a number and descriptor for each crevice between the branches where a body could sit. We knew others stayed in each of the rooms, although we could not see them, only hear invisible breaths in the air. In the memory, I've gone up incredibly high, with the risk of death if I were to fall. But this cannot be true because no one seemed that alarmed when I did fall. Except, did I fall? Or was it [[her?->Her.]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline -4) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -5)} //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

I am (live: 10s) [(either: "nowhere", "everywhere", "elsewhere", "waiting,", "listening to what", "held to what", "colliding with what")] I am not meant to be. (live: 20s) [ [[and time passes|Day 2]] ]

(live: 1s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Master your productivity")] (live: 2s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Master your productivity")] (live: 3s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Master your productivity")] (live: 4s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Master your productivity")] (live: 5s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Master your productivity")] (live: 6s) [(either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become a better person; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Master your productivity")] [[Ongoing]] [[ness->Ongoing 2]] [[ness->Ongoing 2]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -5) (live: 13s)[//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

(live: 1s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (live: 2s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (live: 3s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (live: 4s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (live: 5s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (live: 6s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (live: 7s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking")] (if: $predictiveresult is "Track your cycle") [(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Billuart, Morgane, 2024. //Cycles: The Sacred and the Doomed: Inquiries in Female Health Technology//, (Set Margins' Publications)."))] [[Ongoing->Ongoing 2]] [[ness->Ongoing 3]] [[ness->Ongoing 2]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine +3) (live: 13s)[//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

(live: 1s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking", "Track your soul"))] (live: 2s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking", "Track your soul"))] (live: 3s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking", "Track your soul"))] (live: 4s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking", "Track your soul"))] (live: 5s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking", "Track your soul"))] (live: 6s) [(set: $predictiveresult to (either: "Feeling unstoppable? Learn how to channel your energy into productive routines!", "Feel calm after a hectic night", "Master the rush", "Take this pill and all will be fine and all will be revealed", "Every line helps, every word helps", "Become better; look better, feel better", "Slice up time, keep going", "Look, don't stop looking!", "Track your cycle", "Track yourself, don't stop tracking", "Track your soul"))] (if: $predictiveresult is "Track your cycle") (set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + "Billuart, Morgane, 2024. //Cycles: The Sacred and the Doomed: Inquiries in Female Health Technology//, (Set Margins' Publications).") (if: $predictiveresult is "Track your soul") (set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + "Billuart, Morgane, 2024. //Cycles: The Sacred and the Doomed: Inquiries in Female Health Technology//, (Set Margins' Publications).") [[Ongoing->Predictive ad.]] [[ness->Ongoing 3]] [[ness->Ongoing 3]] [[ness->Predictive ad.]] (if: $word is noise) [[[ness->[A noise.]]], (if: $word is memory) [[[ness->[A memory.]]], (if: $word is ongoingness) [[[ness->[An ongoingness.]]], (if: $word is saturation|) [[[ness-> Time passing before Day 2]]], (if: $word is centre) [[[ness->[A centre.]]], (if: $word is riddle) [[[ness->[A riddle.]]](if: $word is rupture) [[[ness->A rupture.]]], (if: $word is unthought) [[[ness->[An unthought.]]], (if: $word is glitch) [[[ness->[A glitch.]]] (set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +2) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -7) (live: 20s)[//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

No, I cannot go there. Quick, (live: 3s)[re-set.] (live: 5s)[re-set.] (live: 7s)[re-set.] (live: 9s)[re-set.] (live: 11s)[re-set.] (live: 13s)[//come on//, re-set.] (live: 15s)[//please//, re-set.] (live: 16s)[re-set.] (live: 17s)[re-set.] (live: 18s) [re-set.] (live: 19s)[[[re-set.->?]]] {(set: $adrenaline to $adrenaline +3) (set: $dopamine to $dopamine -11)} //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//

Perhaps I have forgotton how to think. Everything has moved so quickly in my life recently. Thinking is supposed to precede action but all too often I act, (link: 5s)[[[before I think.|Day 2]]]

Timer to be set up here, every second passing to an hour before delivering you to the next [[passage.->Day 2]]

[[I walk outside of my room]] [[I stay]]

(if: $surreal is true) [[[A surreal style.|Day 2]]] (if: $realism is true) [[[A style of the everyday.|Day 2]]] (if: $speculative is true) [[[A style of speculation.|Day 2]]]

Something is arising here; can an almost capable thinking travel further than the thought? (live: 8s) [Meanwhile [[time passes]]]

A [[passage->Day 2]] through.

Do you ever get that feeling when you're inside a space and the overwhelm unsettles you so that you cannot even for a minute remember where something came from? Sometimes, it seems, I need to describe things carefully as a deliberate act to myself. I don't remember this scrap of paper suddenly appearing on a desk, and I don't remember, //really//, how yesterday turned into today. All I know is that it is important not to get stuck. My handwriting on the text demonstrates some kind of action. Do you ever get anxious about [[forgetting?|where on earth]] And within that anxiety, sometimes would you rather forget [[everything?|where on earth]] Then you really would have arrived [[elsewhere.|No signal.]]

Because the boundaries of what this space is, are not certain, I don't know what to make of my expectations, what to make of routine. //Not// that I have ever been great at routine; it is only because I am so //determined// that I notice the days numbers passing me by inside this //temporary life// I seem to have travelled inside. I mean to say, I write the days up on a [[small scrap of paper I have found.]] ~~Day 1~~ [[~~Day 2~~->No signal.]] (link: "Day 3") [] (link: "Day 4") [] (link: "Day 5") [] No dust settles. Things continue to swirl. It's not so much that it's so far into the future, per se, it's just that without any other proof of such a day existing, my imagination (if: $speculative is true) [[[won't go there.]]] (else:) [won't go there.]

[[A neutral line->We trap a mark on the screen.]] or an [[agitation?->We trap a mark on the screen.]] [[A neutral line->We trap a mark on the screen.]] or an [[agitation?->We trap a mark on the screen.]] [[A neutral line->We trap a mark on the screen.]] or an [[agitation?->We trap a mark on the screen.]]

(live: 2s)[Like any character, I have moments where I exist only within a present time, moving onwards.] (live: 6s) [Like any person who pretends to be a character, I acheive this changing existence through an understanding of how to manipulate language, of how to be.] (live: 9s) [Like any person who is unsure whether they are a character or indeed, //real//, something else occasionally emerges and I have to stop.] (live: 12s)[And wonder.] (live: 15s) [Wait.] (live: 17s)[They were all still there working at my old job in the pub,] (live: 19s)[and there was a new tenant in my room,] (live: 21s) [there were still people heading to work,] (live: 22s)[paying their taxes,] (live: 23s)[dying,] (live: 24s)[giving birth,] (live: 25s) [waiting,] (live: 26s)[thinking of nothing, thinking of everything,] (live: 29s) [while I am here,] (live: 30s) [not moving,] (live: 31s)[living and writing as though life has stopped its current of other interferences.] (live: 40s) [And yet there are some things, some people, that were [[no longer.]]] (live: 33s)[Where was I then amidst all of that?]

Again, that falling (click-replace: "falling") [(print: $word)] in between. Would you be waking like this? My alarm isn't working. You would probably already be awake hours before [[me.| Day 2 continuing]]

I notice a note on the other door opposite me. Sometimes people in tenements do leave notes like that, hastily scribbled and plastered on a door. These notes can have varying affects on their readers. Once we got one from a man across the way who told us we were 'sluts': take the bins out, you sluts!, the note shouted'. It was violent in a way, but it didn't seem to be coming out of the mouth of anyone we actually knew. After all, I couldn't imagine at the time that anyone I had seen on the stairwell would write like this, though people can surprise you; writing can after all invite a different side of a character, quite different from that speaking self. Writing is more thinking isn't it, than speaking? (if: $realism is true) [I walk over to the piece of paper. It does not have anything written on it remotely like that note we had received all those years ago. It is blank, taped as though by mistake.] Though I desperately want to read meaning into it. Instead [[I open the door]], which opens easily. (else-if: $speculative is true) [I walk over to the piece of paper. Though I desperately want to read meaning into it. Instead [[I open the door]], which opens easily. I read this note: (live: 25s) [sluts!] (live: 30) [Yes, there it is, in the same handwriting, with dirt all over the edges. I feel a strange sinking feeling of guilt for some reason, though I do remember at the time that the bin on the landing was definitely //not// ours.] (live: 36s) [Why is this here? I feel the air refract around me.] (live: 40s) [[[This letter is not ->door mystery option]] [[meant to be here.->door mystery option]]]]

I find I have walked myself down the corridor and am in the kitchen, opening the fridge which is stocked with food. I should ask permission, I should be more polite. Instead, I suddenly find myself grabbing bread and eating far too quickly. (if: $surreal is true) [[[I suddenly find myself staring out the window at the darkening forest.|darkening forest]]] (else:) [I suddenly find myself staring out the window at the darkening forest.] [I suddenly find myself thinking about the weird customer at work, the one with the intense eyes that don't blink, asking me questions about my life. I can see him now, leaning over, trying to catch my eye, feeling his eyes even as my back is turned.] I suddenly find myself thinking about that song that used to always get stuck in my head; what was it called? I'm humming it under my breath. Three beats. An internal loop. I suddenly think about the first time I had sex; that was back when I was different, more careful, so it had felt risky in a way that nothing now will feel risky again. He left behind a watch, and it's ticking hands would beat along with my breath, even after he left. It was instantly a mistake. I think about all the //stupid//, //stupid//, //stupid// words that have been said. (if: $realism or $speculative is true) [[[I shake these thoughts. I should explore the building.|I should explore the building]]]

Waves ripple in the air through the leaves. And yes, (live: 6s) [I have a sudden inexplicable desire to run out into it, into [[all that space.|outside]]] (set: $adrenaline to +1)

[[Re-set.->We trap a mark on the screen.]]

I [[miss.]]

(live: 10s) [(print: $name) looks blankly over as though no answer has really been provided. Perhaps they are just letting it sink in.] (live: 15s) [I'm not good with silences.] (live: 22s) [It is at this moment, I realise, I should probably be asking (print: $name) something; it is as though they waiting or paused in some kind of mid-thought moment which I find discomforting and mildly irritating, but I try not to let this show.] (live: 25s) [- And, if you felt this kind of time passing, what would you do?] (live: 32s) [- I would be tempted to run, or to //try// and outrun time, to not let the body be entrenched to time, and not the self, these names we give to the things which are still abstractions, however material their reality is. And. wonder, would you rather be [[hyper-aware of time]], [[hyper-aware of your body]], or [[hyper-aware of your surroundings]] [[or all three?]]]

{(if: $surreal is true) [The wind rushes in with the light and I'm getting used to this. The strange wires on the floor, the open living situation. [[I decide to go off and wander aimlessly with great intent|I wander aimlessly with great intent.]]] (if: $speculative is true) [Has (print: $name) spent their time ripping up books? In each room I enter, there are stacks of pages but no covers. I search for signs of binding but it all dissolves into a kind of organised disorganisation. I feel so giddy that it is as though I cannot choose which text, which page to draw upon. [[I wander aimlessly with great intent.]]] (if: $realism is true) [I can hear (print: $name) through the walls, pacing, and then a machine whirr or something like this, and I want to be part of the machines, and I vow I will pluck up even more courage to [[observe|I wander aimlessly with great intent.]]]

I am running across an open field and the grass is shivering in delight beneath my feet. Yes, the grass, it shivers and I can feel it between my toes as I did as a child. The sun on my face. Moving through air so swiftly, as though beyond time. The forest [[beckons.]] (set: $dopamine to it + 8)

The grass turns to a soft moss. I seem to step down into it. The trees are swaying, and the wood smell. The wood smell. The wood smell is (print: $word) in me. A swift and swooping (print: $word). Breathing it in, [[we are back]].

We had first found the tree on a Saturday; an old bedraggled piece of rope hung off it. At first we tried to do something about this sorry soul of a rope, but it wasn't to be. Instead the rope got wet in the several downpours that would happen during the day, in the city we were from, but we were there, we were elsewhere. Up in the branches, we had found our spot; trembling small bodies fitting in crevices amidst the wood smell and the hush. The feeling of this rush could be acheived by climbing higher each time. Maybe me, more so. To need a way to show you are something, a person, to prove to yourself something. I think she let me do it. She was a braver soul than me, generally. If she was a tree, then I'd surely be the rope. But she let me have this. When the others came, they couldn't get up; there was a certain technique you had to have, there was a certain impulse in the legs, a willingness to leap. But then we didn't really help, did we? We wanted it to ourselves. [[The wind rustles the leaves.]]

The wind makes me want to [[run]], to gulp long stretches of it, but this will make me breathless. I feel a surge run through my whole body and it has swerved in its intention. I just wish [[I wasn't alone in it.]] (set: $adrenaline to it +7)

The forest heaves its breath and swells around me. [[Small daisies on the mossy floor.->texture]] [[Air tingling on skin.->texture]] [[Small mushrooms pepper the path.->texture]] [[The wood smell.->texture]] [[The trees soak in texture.->texture]] [[The swell soaks in texture.->texture]]

Except maybe I did want to be alone; after all, this is what I had done in the city I have come from. The first time it happened, I wandered through the streets trying to be quiet and yet breathless in my excitement. A feeling of //being// in the world, a rush to the senses, a thrum, still thrumming. I had moved swiftly, with a swervish intent, casting my body out into the silent streets while others dozed. I had let the streets carry me. Can an almost capable thinking like this travel further than the [[thought?]]

The thought, which could surpass the self quickly, taking over. I kept trying to catch up with it. (live: 4s) [Moving,] (live: 6s) [Faster] (live: 8s) [Faster} (live: 11s) [Faster] (live: 13s) [Faster] (live: 16s) [Faster] (live: 19s) [Faster} (live: 22s) [Faster] (live: 25s) [[[Faster|run]]]

A texture of (print: $word) surrenders itself somehow when I touch the bark. [[Swerve]] [[Pace]] [[Swirl]] (live: 50s) [[[A pause->how long?]]]

Between fresh bouts blooms and willingness the thoughts tremble [[in anticipation->how long?]].

Each step carries its own process and the trees begin to move in time with me. [[how long?]]

The colours begin to [[blend->texture]] into each other, like they did when spinning as a child. A great big rush, like becoming submerged, then emerging into a fine distilled artwork, painting [[itself->texture]] back through a (print: $word).

How long have I been out here? Suddenly it is dark, and I thought I was rushing beyond time but really I was in it. The forest groans and I sigh because it's not such a big deal to be here. (live: 3s) [The forest waits.] (live: 5s) [The forest waits.] (live: 7s) [The forest waits.] (live: 8s) [The forest waits.] (live: 9s) [The forest waits.] (live: 10s) [The forest waits.] (live: 11s) [The forest waits.] (live: 12s) [The forest waits.] (live: 13s) [The forest waits.] (live: 14s) [The forest waits.] (live: 15s) [The forest waits.] (live: 16s) [The forest waits.] (live: 17s) [A white moth flutters by me and rests on the moss. I stroke its wing.] (live: 25s) [The forest whispers to me in hushed tones of words I cannot say. I have never learned to pronounce them.] (live: 30s) [[[I let them rest on me, the words.->Day 3]]]

The best kind of reading was a discovery, the kind where what you wanted came to you slowly. It was the reading of childhood. It was the reading of a slow reveal, that not even //you// knew you wanted. I remember in the library coming across a book on hypnosis in a self-help section I was //definitely// not meant to be in. I put the book into my bag and somehow left with it. That night she and I crept under our blankets, torch in waiting, and devoured the book. It seemed that hypnosis was a //real// deal and not just a fictional illusion. We took the decision to try and hypnotise each other. She seemed to be able to do it, I thought, and I wonderd where she had learnt to do that. But then again, I was keen to believe in a lot of things. I imagine you hypnotising, making me believe I have taken your place, searching me out. I aways feel eyes upon me in this way. [[I go off in search of (print: $name)'s room|I go in search of their room]] ~~I try not to do anything rash~~

Not that I even know where this room is, or perhaps E lives in all of the rooms. They are so difficult to pin down, this would make sense. I try to imagine their life; in fact I struggle to even imagine their face when I am not right before them. This is not something I've experienced before. The wooden floors smell of the wood shavings of our flat growing up, splinters getting caught in skin constantly. I think I started walking quetly because of this. Grumpy neighbours and a building that spoke constantly in the night. I swear, yesterday, there were five rooms. Now, I see only three. As though the building has shrunk. My room in the centre and then two surrounding. [[I try the room to the right]] [[I try the room to the left]] {(set: $adrenaline to it + 5) (set: $cortisol to it +2) (set: $dopamine to it +7)} //Adrenaline rate is: print $adrenaline// //Cortisol rate is: print $cortisol// //Dopamine rate is: print $dopamine//

The door is ajar so of course, I look in. The window is also open so the whole room is freezing. Again, pages and pages, this time floating, skidding off the wall. I can make out small illedgible, shadow like marks across the pages. Or perhaps the pages are like tracing paper, there's something filmy, silky about them. There's no furniture in the room, it's like a ghostly holder of something, a memory? [[I grab hold of one of the pieces of paper.]]

Wait, I can hear someone inside. I'm not subtle so have no clue why I think walking straight into this room in a home I still don't know is a remotely good idea. Then I hear humming, and then a whirring sound, like a machine, or maybe //no//, like an old film sound, like those black and white films, whirring us into a new lens, a new picture. I try to imagine what's going on and feel a surge of energy travel through me. I suddenly wish that it was me on the other side of that door, with its whirring, its activity, its unbelievable [[(print: $word).| the undoing art]]

(if: $speculative is true) [It's a copy of the writing from one of my recent phone notes, in that faint almost illegible scrawl. //Buy kitchen paper// //Idea for short film, or story, or some sort of performance: a collage of words collated from the same customer over seven weeks, spoken by seven different people.// //Try and figure out what you want the account to be; try and figure out what YOU want to be.// //What self am I trying to present?// //Am I a user? Or am I the used?// [[The account]] [[The short film]] [[The page|I hold the page in my hand]]] (else-if: $realism is true) [It's a list of several objects: //Headset.// //Flip phone.// //Desktop// Are these (print: $name)'s notes? And [[towards what?|I hold the page in my hand]] ] (else-if: $surreal is true) [The page seems to fall away beneath my hands and flutter up to the sky, seeping out through the walls, their growing absence.: I look up and then gather myself, moving to the [[room to the left|I try the room to the left]]] (set: $adrenaline to it + 2)

I had set it up anonymously one evening, after coming home from work, wine-drunk again, my body trembling (with exasperation? excitement? fear?); at that stage, I honestly wasn't sure. The truth was, that it was in this kind of state (drink or no drink) that in recent years had been the only moments where decisions could actually be made. Otherwise, it seemed as though something would strike me before I could move onwards. The account, I decided, should have nothing to do with my name. And on it, I would write ideas for //art// that could likely never be made. At first, some of the ideas were slightly realistic, I just knew I didn't have a budget for it, and neither was I an artist. Some of them were writing projects; a book that never ended, a book about everything, a book about nothing, a book that could hold an ever-changing chorus of words. There were also more material objects; ribbons that could turn into rivers, piano keyboards that could code, a typwriter that sighed when it held certain emotions towards a word, that it had kept inside for too long. On some weeks, the ideas would ripple out of me, without even having to think about it. I discussed this with no one, which was unusual for me, as I'm not particularly good at [[keeping my thoughts to myself.]]

I had never made a film in my life. {(live:8s)[*]}; this was part of a longer series of unrealistic [[imaginings.->The account]] {(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Man, Maya (2024), 'The Artist is Online'. //Outland.//. www.outland.art/articles/the-artist-is-online."))} (live: 8s)[*'In 1998, from her home in New York, Auriea Harvey decided to “go live.” With a T1 line and some bespoke software, she set up a camera that, every few seconds, streamed black-and-white photos of her working at her computer to her website. People from around the world watched her at her machine while sitting in front of their own.' [[(Maya Man, 'The Artist is Online'|Inventory of Thinkers]]]

I knew perhaps, if I had shard the ideas, worked with someone, it might have led somewhere. So why was I so keen on preserving these imaginings? There was something beautiful about the identity not being me, and the followers who came along could bask in the beauty of these imaginings as well. Sometimes, I would put up post-it notes around the city with the name of the account, but soon this felt too cliched, too much of a promotional activity and I was concerned (although who would care!), that someone might recognise my handwriting, which was also a kind of mark, a kind of stain. [[I hold the page in my hand]]

The light shines through, and my the shadow of my hand is pressed through behind the letters. The page looks like an artefact, the texture of the paper so thin, I imagine it as a kind of medieval manuscript, that should only be touched by an archiveist with clean gloves and an understanding of all that it contains. But I don't feel this way, because these words are mine and they are flimsy. And yet, I take the page with me. [[I have questions. I go to find (print: $name).|I go in search of their room]]

'I was nervous all the rest of my life (she wrote)' (live: 5s) [Anne Carson, 'Flaubert Again', 2024] {(set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Carson, Anne, 2024. 'Flaubert Again'. The Literary Hub. Available at: <https://lithub.com/flaubert-again/>"))} (live: 10.75s)[[[Here we emerge...|HERE WE EMERGE]]]

I have been online for as long as I have been alive (click-replace: "for as long as I have been alive") [since the age of eight], increasingly so, as I waste away hours, my back against a sharp corner, my limbs outstretched in a small room in a flat I inhabit with four strangers. It would make sense that some of what I have left behind in all these days, hours, years, might be regarded as a creative output, being as it is, a mode of working. Working disguised as leisure. But I have been known to lie, particularly to myself, and I knew this version of my story is too simple for even myself to accept. This message was not intended for me. It seemed nice enough. It seemed at this stage in my own little small narrative, an action was required, some kind of plot, a wished for plot even if none arrived. Don't ask me what my motives were or are: I have decided to rid myself of over-thinking and stay more fluid. Instead I say to anyone that may wish to ask, that I came across the place through a friend of a friend (this is a lie)(click-replace: "(this is a lie)") [...]. The connection is not secure. [[I go anyway]].

//[[You have one new message!|new message]]//

''A VIBRATING AND VERY SURPRISING NOTIFICATION'' //Yes, it would be brilliant to have you here,// they had written to me. I thought for a while I had committed the email to memory but no, I hadn't. I do remember certain words which left me trembling, even vibrating with meaning. These were: //oppportunity//, //I am a fan//, //in these precarious times//, //our work and vision align//, //I have been following//. Signed {(print: $name)}? For unknown reasons after accepting the offer to stay at this place (unsure even why I, I mean //you// had been asked), and writing down all the necessay details, I deleted the email chain, as though to banish it from any history, any piece of evidence that someone could use against me. Though somehow I felt, someone was already looking in at the email, reading it, judging me and my actions against it, or that indeed you were looking and somehow tapping into my thoughts. As soon as you write anything down, it leaves you and its no longer part of a singular body; it floats into something they call a system... (click-replace: "...") [(Or 'entanglement' or 'chaos).] But words were not the only issue here. In the //world// of the email, it wasn't mine and I couldn't convincingly lie anymore. All mystery was gone. I have taken to not writing much at all anymore, as I would rather be obscure. I am an expert at not replying to messages, I avoids calls. I am bascially non functioning. I am trying to be //good// but it is backfiring. Words are not written down, they are being absorbed and re-absorbed inside of me. Present but drifting. But I can remember how I [[replied.]]

She was the one who I had thought of when I started that first site, its trembling beginnings, a draft that I wanted to both own and forget. It was what she might have done. I searched everywhere for the potential of her blog. Or the latest update to a blog. My earliest person, my earliest friend. I had somehow lost her. Childhood washed away by a continual dead link. I often wondered if she was dead and realised that I might never know this answer. Perhaps having the ability to search, to have a digital footprint, made the strangeness of not having one all the more disturbing. If you couldn't find the work, the memory, was it really ever there? One thing was clear: she did not want me to find her. (live: 8s) [[[But enough with all these sidenotes! It is time to go inside.|pressure]]]

(force-input-box:"X","NOTES MADE IN NERVES A slipping magnet from a too-shiny surface. A wave of dust between the trees. A wish of reckoning along the corridor. A spot of misunderstanding down on the grass. A too-sure moon behind the desk. A waiting before the beginning.") Yes, this place is strangely familiar. I type quickly, perhaps words of nothing? Quick images which stifle something else. I must appear to be working, after all. I have brought my laptop but the screen has gone strangely [[dark]] since I have arrived. The words are typed but seem to be on the brink of almost disappearing at any given moment. I cannot be too precious. It is true that this stimulates less of a headache, though I can barely see. I decide to switch the lighs off in the room as well, to suit this new ambience and so I am not permamently aware of my own face before me which emerges every now and again behind the letters I am typing. Perhaps this is part of the residency's agreed terms. Does a residency contain terms? This dark ambience. This technological glitch. I have been here for I suppose, three hours? I can keep track of my days, watching the sunrise and sunset.. The time on my laptop has gone all strange; where the date and time should be is replaced by a large (text-colour: red)[ERROR.]

But this is not what I understand to be the definition of an artist, in all its swirling. The issue is that my so-called writing, if it can even be called art, is massively distributed across an ever-expanding and toppling network. I quickly learned this was the way to be both anonymous and highly visible. I could change names, start anew, leave a scattering archive. It was highly unlikely, //no I should say impossible//, for anyone to find this work. Its half finished echoes, ghostly remains. For a while, I went more visual. Drawings and dreams, half botched ideas for something that would be near impossible to make. Then, words, scattered across. Always new ideas. Never their realities. Many of the sites had simply been taken down. Many of the ideas had simply been taken down. Immaterial and material at the same time. If something like that has gone, did it ever really exist? If you could no longer find someone online, [[where did they live with you?]]

We //write// that in our |choice>[beginning] [(set: $word to "beginning")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [riddle] (set: $word to "riddle")] (click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [ongoingness] (set: $word to "ongoingness")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [saturation] (set: $word to "saturation")](click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [centre] (set: $word to "centre")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [unthought] (set: $word to "unthought")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [noise] (set: $word to "noise")](click: ?choice)[(replace: ?choice) [memory] (set: $word to "memory")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [rupture] (set: $word to "rupture")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [beginning] (set: $word to "beginning")] (click: ?choice) [(replace: ?choice) [glitch] (set: $word to "glitch")] ...a strange and slippery narrative is |choice>[beginning] to form, emerging from some nerve in the back of our minds. Or no, should we say it has arisen throughout the body? You see, a sentence might begin absentmindedly behind the back of the eyes, in short breaths through the nose before slithering down towards the vocal chords, then the belly, this earthy pit. A name that may or may not fit. Still trying to find itself. We all know a name of this kind (or is it just a feeling? are they different?), can struggle to ease itself inside words, sound, form, with it's slippery tapeworm form, its knots and creaks, its chemical loops, as it hides amidst muscle and bone, flows through blood, circling around in this swimming chaos. Some words do not belong in a contained dark space; they have to be released through the gaping mouth like a tentacle, casting [[ripples in the water.]]

Stumbling outside of the pub, night air gripping and stinging. Deciding to walk. Across the whole city, why not. Its bright, shimmering as a kind of waking dream. Feet barely on the ground. //I would walk forever.// To become not person, but landscape. Singing loudly in the streets. Singing like brushstrokes, [[singing strings into air.]] (set: $adrenaline to it + 3) (set: $cortisol to it + 2)

A sting of shame. Why am I like this? Did anyone see me like that? It's better to escape. That event has happened on loop. It is a reoccuring practice, like a [[returning style.|I stay]]

I came down here only last night, I remember now. It looks like the entrance to another flat but inside all the walls have been knocked down, making space for a kitchen area and a wooden table, long with many chairs. But have I been here before? This would be the kind of scene I would dream of: en event more likely, for me at least, to be a dream than a reality. A sensible premise: to go and eat. But the thing is, I'm //not// sensible like that. I can only dream of it; a style of sensibility. I can only do [[one thing at a time.]]

From the moment I went towards that tenement door, with all of its buzzers, a replica of the buildings in the city from which I have emerged, my phone screen has gone dark. Zilch. [[No signal.]]

(if: $realism is true) [[[I used to trust everyone. That was part of the problem. While the majority run away from that kind of naiveness long ago, I have kept it up, flinging myself without hesistation into a series of relationships, friendships, chasing, forever chasing.|trust]]] (else:) [I used to trust everyone. That was part of the problem. While the majority ran away from that kind of naiveness long ago, I have kept it up, flinging myself without hesistation into a series of relationships, friendships, chasing, forever chasing.] (if: $speculative is true) [[[I was giddy when the email arrived, it's true.|giddy]]] (else:) [I was giddy when the email arrived, it's true.] It feels like everything is about to slip away, a kind of zero-sum logic; if you don't take every opportunity, someone will grab it for you. There are so many opportunities I have not taken. (if: $unthought is true) [[[There is no time to think anymore.|an exploration of unthought]]] (else:) [There is no time to think anymore.] But //wait//, who is this (print: $name)? (print: $name) is not readable, and they are largely absent at the moment. (if: $surreal is true) [[[Why do I need everything to be so //readable//? Why can't I be more comfortable with mystery? I want to be more open like a prolonged question mark.|a question opens]]] (else:) [Why do I need everything to be so //readable//? Why can't I be more comfortable with mystery? I want to be more open like a prolonged question mark.]

How had I not noticed the forest before? Beyond the edges of this lone tenement, beyond the field which seems to almost carry the building upon it, is a forest extending and extending. Again the darkening sky, the trees almost look like people, erect, standing straight and narrow to [[attention.|attention day 2]] And as the wind arrives, they sway and they swerve. I have a sudden inexplicable desire to run out into it, into [[all that space.|outside]]

Perhaps this trusting also has to do with my proclivity to passivity. The nerves tremble easily, and seem to lodge something in me, an emotion that won't get unstuck. My old friend, the one who was with me from the beginning wasn't like this: she always had fresh ideas, a certain motivation that summoned her that also felt like a kind of luck. Around her, things seemed to really //happen//. Perhaps this was why, she had chosen to delete me from her life. I often didn't feel like decisions were made by me, things just seemed to happen, by mistake. I didn't know what I had done wrong; perhaps I never would and I would need to be okay with this continual question, a nerve [[that cannot be easily codified.]] (live: 10s) [//I did know what I had done: this threshold space where I do know, where the realisation arrives slightly delayed after the fact.//]

The truth is, I am probably more open to mystery than most. I don't plan ahead. Perhaps there was a period of training for this: after all, we never stayed in one place for long, mum and I. There was always something new to discover. But then I had wanted to stay, stay in a readable space, in my flat, which though I had lived there for a long time, had never quite transpired into a home. First, there were people who I may have called friends but they left, replaced by other tenants. It had been several years now, [[though I don't like to keep count.]]

Along lines of enquiry, emotion gets entangled. Sometimes I make movements with my hands, not unlike those of young children, I see online, who zoom in on a physical print as thought it is an iPad. Strung out for a certain kind of interaction. Emotion travels through comment threads, algorithmic suggestions, news and notifications straight into my body, our bodies. I wonder if you and I are part of the same algorithims and this is why our lives have entangled in this way? Finding a commonplace link, before we even have time to think about it or making that link for us. Sometimes I have moments when I look in the eyes of the person behind the video clip I am watching and forget that there is an interface between us. Instead, we appear like two animals meeting on an even landscape, not one in which I am the watcher and they are the perceived, [[the performing.]]

Here's one: My answer is myself. To untangle. To dance (often clumsily) through language. To burrow inside the question. To loop, without knowledge of return. To [[glitch.|introduction]]

The ongoingness of the online functions like a daydream on tap. To daydream inside the web, collecting debris from a collective: //How do you daydream on purpose?// //Do you daydream with eyes open or closed?// //Dreaming with open eyes not seeing.// //A dream in a dream in a dream.// You imagine the collective daydream as an entangled mess of our virtual world. Who goes there? YouTube videos open up a performative stream of consciousness. You watch a video of an octopus sliding through murky waters. It seems to gasp. You watch a skater glide peacefully over ice. So smooth that everything feels so easy. You watch a poet reading, explaining their process. You watch an advert for spelling and grammar. You wonder about spelling, about what it means to subvert a spelling, resist the call for correction. We imagine. A daydreaming of memory, re-situated inside the wait, but resistant to change.. I haven't dreamt for days. Not even in the day. Like I did as a child. Sometimes in the nightmare, the figure. Stops. Starts again. Retraces her steps. Hums like a faraway [[ship.|private]]

I once read online that the eye captures images at 60,000 times the rate we can process language. Did you know that? To insert an image into that space. It will be noticed and admired. It is true, I did want to be [[noticed and admired.|private]]

I have always enjoyed the number three and its terrible terrific awkwardness. Think of having three eyes, three heads, three hands. We often love the double, its sense of equality, structure, time, binary and clear simple neat love. I once heard someone explain the concept of the third eye, the one that's not meant to be there, the one that feels it's way through the surface, turns us forward, connects. My beliefs or something that sounds like soul seems to change from day to day. According to a video online, you can locate your third eye in only five minutes. //Seratonin, seratonin, seratonin.// I want 3D shape, surround sound, more, more, more. The third one is not the spare. It seems to centre the other two. I can't stop thinking of the three circles, interconnecting, feeding back into each other. Each one must join over and link with the other two. What do you think about this? [[//Really, what do you think about this?//|private]] { (set: $seratonin to it + 3) (set: $adrenaline to it+ 1) (set: $dopamine to it +2) } (text-style:"blurrier")[(live: 20s) [//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current seratonin rate is: (print: $seratonin)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)// //Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current cortisol rate is: (print: $cortisol)//]]

''Trapped in our screen OR trapped in our dream'' A dull, unthinking expression on his face. ... not thinking; unmindful: chores done in an unthinking manner. I know my knee-jerk reaction to the film's ending was mostly negative, but over time I've come to appreciate its subtlety and poignancy. In an unthinking age, seeing is believing. His voice stopped and they looked for a long quiet moment into each other's eyes and between them lay the sunny lost youth that they had so unthinkingly shared. The move away from thinking disturbs you because your reflexes are more powerful than you. The unthinking occurs when you least want it. How to unthink in a moment of too much saturation? //I knew you would make this decision//, she says to you, swivelling on her chair //I am not surprised//. She is another thinking mind behind the bar, cloth in her hand, but you wonder how she accessed the thought just before it appeared. Forget it all, sit back and let the reflexes turn their wheels. Somehow this feels impossible. Feel yourself become beyond. //the potent force of conceptualising interactions between humans and technical systems// //I am relaxed//, he says as the car slows down. //I know how to access//. I am relaxed. I [[access.|introduction]]

What enters you as noise? I can. The faint faraway tremble of the body or a body amongst many. Have you ever dreamt in sound with no image? Have you ever heard the rush of your own blood signalling? Have you felt a crowd around you in a soar of sound? //Who am I speaking to?// //Hello?// I hear all this noise even without the sound. My voice, so pitched and waiting. A low ringing ensures that the machine will start up. [[I try to begin too.|introduction]]

I cannot seem to remember anything from the past few months or is it a year? So strange. Is this a convenient exaggeration? Oh look! I am always waiting to bleed again. I grow irritable and the past inhales. It is like a piece of my figure, my shape has been erased or //no//, like a chunk of my inside has been eaten up. I cannot remember saying the things I said; I may have said nothing or I may have said far too much. Would you understand? Am I explaining myself? Speaking noise, rather than words. It is often like this; I come back. I can try and replicate the memory of it all but all I hear is that distant hum, something like silence but [[not quite.|private]] {(set: $cortisol to it+ 1) (set: $adrenaline to it +1)} (live: 12s) [//Current adrenaline rate is: (print: $adrenaline)// //Current cortisol rate is: (print: $cortisol)// //Current dopamine rate is: (print: $dopamine)//]

Voice. Messenger. Humour. Body. Time. Mood. Connection. Reality. Style. Self. Unself. [[Wait.|private]]

One action after another. One fragment, held in it, before reaching out [[to the next.]]

There's something about being in someone else' place which make me (or anyone?) feel more hesitant about moving things, which seems to include switching on lights, making any sound, using objects, eating. I suppose this has only been heightened because I know I am somewhere I am not meant to be. //Also//, I can't help but feel things are slightly //off// here; for example, I haven't seen or heard (print: $name) at all today, who based on prior communication (or was this just my reading of it?) supposedly lives here, took me in, then vanished, and there are all these rooms, so I had assumed others are also here, but there is no point sticking with that concern for the moment. I am clearly alone, and I have never felt //more// alone. Then again, I am known to often assume wrong. [[Get suspicious about (print: $name).|Get suspicious]] (live: 30s)[[[I should explore the building|I should explore the building]]] (live: 35s)[[[I should eat and not worry so much about all of this ruminating->I should eat and not worry so much about all of this ruminating]]]

I wonder if these are even my own thoughts. For a while, I became obsessed with the theories of performance and cognition. It was while I was at University, studying another subject that had nothing to do with performance and cognition...though perhaps everything does? I like to pursue directions and links I am not supposed to. Perhaps this is why I came to make my strange unartuful works of art. And why I came to discover the notion of the //Unthought//, described by internet theorist N. Katherine Hayles as a //a definition of cognition that applies to technical systems as well as biological life-forms.//, which I noted down on my phone notes, and re-posted on my site, sending it out into another vast system of actors, [[technical and human.]] (live: 10s) [[[Inventory of Thinkers|Inventory of Thinkers]]]

It is strange not to be in that system here, and strange to think of it still going on somewhere though I can't see it. This is also how I feel about death, that the scariest part of it is that life can continue without myself or yourself in it. Do I really feel about technology as I do about death? Outside, everything is dying: climate breakdown kills and is killing, genocides and wars, cancers, trajedies, accidents, general states of deteriation, undoing, unthinking. Now, technology and the environment are becoming fully emmeshed. As are my emotions and potentially many others. A blurriness to feeling sometimes rests over me, almost too gently. [[I am getting carried away.]]

X seems older, though I never like to speculate. I don't like to share my own age, though I suppose it isn't too relevant and often people get my age wrong. Let them be wrong, I think. If X is older, even if it was only a few years, then their relationship with technology and the world, in line with their growing through it would be very different. Even a matter of years, in the last decade or decades of the twentieth century, means that technology can have a different kind of life relationship to you. Like, the advent of a certain early social media site which erupted onto the scene when I was thirteen, after just arriving at yet another new school, a site whose features included hierarchising your friends, in order of your top fifteen friends. Knowing no one and furiously attempting to make friends, I moved my list around everyday as everyone did, trying to keep track of how they were moving me in this grand hierarchy of social standing, to ensure my reality was in line with theirs. At first, i thought the standing changed based on how the days at school had gone, who you had lunch with. But it would soon transpire that the activities online were what was really feeding our off screen worlds. I am only relived none of us had phones. (live: 15s)[[[I should explore the building|I should explore the building]]] (live: 18s)[[[I should eat and not worry so much about all of this ruminating->I should eat and not worry so much about all of this ruminating]]]

I don't plan for other things, like the coming of red, pain, cause and effect, reaction, consequences. I like to live in the now. While others record their dreams, I like to see which of mine really take a shape and a place in my mind. The good ones demand I sleep in longer, wanting to be developed, not. necessarily as a plot but as a swelling and opening, a coming towards a high resolution. Perhaps (print: $name) is like this; a coming towards a high resolution. I now imagine them like pixels colliding. Their indifference to me reads like my mother's indifference or like the indifference of someone familiar, like //oh it's only you//. Do I need much more than this? After all, I do not need to be read. I curate myself in different scenarios to change my style or genre. A style or genre of a life can be [[so easily edited.]]

A dream I had that never did escape me involved becoming an object; a ball to be precise, that bobbed on the sea. It was peaceful out there and no one could disturb me. I did not need to eat or sleep so that was sorted. I did not need to move my face in expressions and I could let the waves move me, as there was no one around to kick or to mess with me either. I tried [[not to read too much into it.]]

[[I should explore the building.|I should explore the building]] [[I should eat and not worry so much about all of this ruminating.|I should eat and not worry so much about all of this ruminating]]

Whenever I hear a surge of sound, the casual notification, I do get giddy, I have to admit. Even if it's got very little to do with me. A suggestion of something I may want to perceive, a news article which may or may not be highly important, a weather update which may or may not be highly important, [[a spam email offering me an opportunity I shouln't resist.]]

Many things cannot be easily codified: like anyone's character, this building, this residency, (print: $name)'s character, [[my reasons for coming here.|not to read too much into it.]]

Yes, to all intents and purposes I had answer a spam email. //I know, I know.// Perhaps you had also received the same email and just had the sense to not reply. Perhaps there's not only one //you// but many of us after all, all receiving this email! Why is that thought so comforting to me? I think it is because I want to know that others also have this strange sensation, of wanting to do everything all at once, but only at certain moments, another character colliding and emerging, who says //yes// without perceiving a possible future of that //yes//. I was also irritatable and ready to shout at someone or something, though there was nothing to direct my attention towards, so I channelled the emotion into tricking myself to come [[here.|not to read too much into it.]]

After entering the door, I turn (print: $direction) and find myself inside a very lived in small room. I have always been curious, and far too nosy about other peoples' spaces. I'm the kind of person who needs to know how you gather your life together in a space, and now I'm wondering about this specific //you// again, whether you might do this. I will admit, sometimes when my flatmates were out, I would peer around the corner of their room, not move anything, just take a quick peek, in an attempt to figure out how their life might differ from my own, and how they did it, living I mean, what was their apporach? The bed here is unmade with notebooks and pen stains across the sheets. Like blood, pens also bleed into shapes, blobs which sometimes convalese into meaning, something emerging, even readable. Here the shapes are too abstract for such readings, though it would be interesting to respond to them in some way. A lack of reading inviting a reading. An idea I might store up if I am to show what I have been up to around here. [[I sit on the bed.]]

I am definitely not meant to be here. Again, more trespassing. From what I can gather about this building, it is a tenement built presumably for other tenements to join and none have. So, the doors and the flats have been laid out as though there are separate dwellings and yet they all link together. I can sense it, even if I haven't travelled properly through them. This has always been how I perceive direction, like: (print: $directionfeeling). You can sense the map of something before you reach its limits. I suddenly think this must be (print: $name)'s room. Around me on the walls, are various scribbles, the whole room a series of pages on the wall, like the one on the door though they are full of pencil lines, abstract shapes and messy writing I can't decipher. I want to hold them and gather them in some way, but there is something very fragile about these pages, like I fear they may fly out the window though it is closed. They are [[not my pages to hold after all.]]

[[I wander out of the room and walk down the corridor.|down the corridor]]

I look into each room as I pass but each space is blank, like the page on the door. Almost like works of art if placed within a different setting. A performance of not living. {(if: $word contains "centre") [There is no centre to this place. [[//Act so that there is no use in a centre// (63).|Inventory of Thinkers]] I had read that in the book my flatmate had left behind, one of the many artists and readers who I had lived with, who tended to stay for only several months at a time. She said she had a tumultuous relationship to this book, which I was not privy to. The truth was,I had been missing a large centre in my life. We moved around a lot when I was younger so I was missing a base. This line seemed to suggest that this was okay, in fact it was something to reach towards, but I thought perhaps I was mis-reading as I so often do. I think I do want to find some inner meaning, some centre to experience, and in that aim I swerve continuously, finding other things in my path. Perhaps this centre is emerging and then retreating continually before me, like many of my aims and possible futures. (set: $inventoryofthinkers to it + (a: "Stein, Gertrude, 2012, 1914. Tender Buttons. New York: Dover Publications."))] (if: $word contains "memory") [I feel as though I am walking through memories, though I have never been to this place before. Someone else's memory perhaps? These rooms must have been lived in once after all, this tenement built two centuries before, sometime between 1840 and 1920. It feels like a glitch, this place. Not meant to be here and now another glitch has wrapped itself around the memory. A memory I am not supposed to access, a place I am not meant to be. My own memory may forget this moment, after I have left, just like so many of my own memories, [[waiting but never accessed.]]] (if: $word contains "unthought") [I hear scampers on the floorboards amidst the wires which trail here also, undone from themselves: has (print: $name) ripped these up somehow? is that why no signal or connection works here?. I presume these little creaks are of other living creatures also living here. I am comforted by this sound; turns out I am not so alone. I [[walk to the end of the corridor and open the door opposite.|waiting but never accessed.]]]}

[[I open the door at the very end of this corridor with great trepidation.|a dead end?]]

It is only a broom cupboard. What was I expecting? Perhaps there is more excitement in a door left unopened, [[a continual threshold.]]

I have a messy relationship with time, which always appears like a threshold, waiting to go into another sense of itself; by this, I mean that one day I imagine that days will suddenly start to feel like years. II gather the opposite is more likely: time retreats doesn't it? As a child, a year could feel ostensibly like a century. Many lives and experiences can gather into that time. With this in mind, I head back to the room I am staying in which is plain and does not contain all the art of that other room. Here is only a bed, a desk, a bookcase containing no books. A space waiting to be filled, which [[I won't stay in for long.]]

(force-input-box:"X","Some writing on not knowing: Not knowing why I'm like this, perhaps never knowing why, a string of not-knowings. Not knowing why it is always like this, the return, the return, back to beginning, always beginning.. Not knowing time; perhaps never knowing it, even outside of this experience. Perhaps never understanding it; the way it ricochets before moving forward. Trembles, even. Not knowing where the change happens, perhaps never being able to know and not locating it in others, as well as myself Not knowing how to return to the 'we' again, feeling dissapointed in this.") [[Time is moving, as it always does.|Day 3]] (set: $dopamine to +2)

Each time, I forget how it can be, like I can forget I have a body moving through the world. A body among many other bodies. [[I rush to the bathroom across the hall.]]

Time slows not unlike a dream. I crouch down on the floor. (if: $surreal is true) [The world sways like the trees in the forest.] (else:) [The world sways and won't stop moving me.] I [[look up.|look up.]]

(if: $surreal is true) [The wall in front of me is simply missing. [[What?|wall]]] (else:) [The wall in front of me shakes. I am used to this sensation and yet everytime it still turns me over, over on myself, over on my body. My nerves shake with the surroundings.] [[What now?|hormones]]

(if: $surreal is true) [The building has been cut away here so that the ground falls down far below. The forest soars below, almost like I could touch it. I feel the rush of air brush into and over my body. Several insects - moths perhaps? - fly into the room. Their wings catch the light at the edge and they move towards the lightbulb above, their thrummings like live glitches, pixellations cutting through time. I feel a swirl and my body [[surges.|hormones]] (live: 8s) [[[For a moment, I become moth.|moth sidenote]]]] (else:) [I wanted to make something of an experience like this but what was there to make? By make, I don't mean construct anything knew, but I suppose some degree of awareness. The pain wasn't the worst part necessarily, it was the run up. It was part of the great costume change. [[I start to feel regret at the (print: $word) I have left on the bed.|hormones]]

In moments like this, in pain like this, I try to recount facts. It is strange that I do not feel quite so concerned about //an entire wall// missing when I feel this way. It is enough just to be sitting here on the floor, //trying//. It is Day 3 which means also Day 2 which means also the height of the pain. I am no longer a subject in this way, but more like an object moving through time. Why do I almost forget as though this is [[not a regular occurance?]]

(if: $surreal is true) [I feel another surge run through me, like a body can be a tree surging in the wind. The moths continue to twirl moving from the trees to the [[inside of the building.|moving further inwards.]] (if: $moththought is true) [I contune to twirl every now and then with them, breaking away from myself, before returning.]] (else:)[I can sense my own messengers and wonder what they are up to; these hormones of meaning, which is also not meaning but something else, something beyond meaning. In one of my many excursions online, I once read, that hormones are in many ways derived from the notion of humours. These were also chemical systems. Flegmat (phlegm), Sanguin (blood), Choleric (yellow bile) and Melanie (black bile). Pain occurs, it was said, when one of these elements [[was out of proportion.]]]

I can sense my own messengers and wonder what they are up to; these hormones of meaning, which is also not meaning but something else, something beyond, just up ahead. In one of my many excursions online, I once read, that hormones are in many ways derived from the notion of humours. These were also chemical systems. Flegmat (phlegm), Sanguin (blood), Choleric (yellow bile) and Melanc (black bile). Pain occurs, it was said, when one of these elements were out of proportion. We live by our structures, their stories, and forces, and the way in which they collide with us. Bodies in the world. [[Time jolts me back.]]

I have crawled back into the bed, the covers pleasantly wrapped around me. Muttering: //it will be okay//, //it will be okay//, a simple mantra like a nervous tic. It will be a long day. (print: $name) may as well not be here, so I can rest without any judgement. Why do I accept this familiarity with a stranger that I still haven't spoken to? Perhaps this is because I do not need to work. This is unusual. (if: $speculative is true) [I feel a surge of deja vu, like I have travelled here before, or certainly been here in some capacity. I often do have a memory for places I have never been. Do you?] [[I can rest.|following a long pause]]

The too bright sun enters me and I have wings. I curl myself into a shape of myself before expanding. The expansion is faster than I am used to and within this space, a new kind of rhythm emerges like the pulse of chemical movement. I want to fly out but I am caught here. The trees hum like a faraway ship. (set: $moth to true) [[Return|hormones]]

Proprotions, balance, a carefully executed system. Easy catergories. I longed for this for many years, with many systems offering me directions. It seems I was to become a system .... maybe? Following pain, often comes other painful realisations. The aggression of the previous weeks now looks ridiculous, I become cliche beyond cliche and it feels more painful that it was even a cliche (according to who?) [[to begin with.]]

There were nervous (print: $word)s which held themselves in secret messages, codes to be revealed. There was a distinct lack of readability in these travelling surges. I liked this openess, as much as I hated them, for all their talking and messaging and gossip across my body. Then again, in pain, I did not want complexity. I wanted action, simple and ready. I begged to feel neutral again as though that was a place I could actually exist within. The nerves listened and jolted me; these fibers and historical reckonings. These funny nerves, with their humours humming. A steady structure that could be counted (could it?) [[could be held.|Time jolts me back.]]

(live: 5s) [Following a long pause...] (live: 11s) [I wake, suddenly. There is a brightness which also feels heavy, which also is a classic indication of a storm. You can feel it in you, a storm like that. Waiting. The pain is still there but has been reduced slightly to a low throb, not unlike the thrum that sometimes arrives behind the ears, just behind the senses. I feel I have been emptied though not completely. I no longer want to be alone. [[Find (print: $name)|Find O)]]

After much stumbling down corridors, I listen out and hear some bashing around, like someone is moving heavy objects. I circle back around and return to the location of my room, to find that (print: $name) was two doors along. They find me and give a faint nod of recognition, as though they are saying //continue// or //do as you will// or //do as you must//. - Hi, I say (live: 2s) [An incredibly long pause seems to ensue] (live: 3s) [...] (live: 4s) [...] (live: 5s) [...] (live: 8s) [- Oh, hello. Didn't know where you've been or where you were going to go.] (live: 10s) [- I suppose I should have come down; I don't really know how these situations work, I mean I've never been to, I mean you know I shouldnt really be here...the truth is, I really don't know.] (live: 12s) [Shit, I've given my cover away. I've been invited because this is the sort of thing someone like //you// would go, somewhere where directions are clear, aims set out already in the mind. I always seem to be missing some vital piece of info in any given reality. I imagine a clear voice with set intentions.] (live: 18s) [ - And where do you see yourself in time? Which time is of you?] (live: 22s) [What?] (live: 18s) [ - I mean to say, -- (print: $name) is saying --. where do you go to when you realise time is passing? Where does that take you, that thought? When you look up and there it is:] (live: 22s) [-time.] (live: 24s) [-passing.] (live: 25s) [What would you say? Should I answer as though I am you?] [[Yes|Yes]] [[No|No]]

Why am I thinking and speaking like this? Outside, the dark is emerging and the day's time has completely glitched. Indeed this glitch seems to come quickly and easily to this body. I want to feel close to (print: $name) as this would provide a easier narrative conclusion to my thinking but instead I feel an unease for our conversation is unnatural somehow, too complex, too affected though everything they are saying feels genuine. I want to know where I am, I want to know what I must say, I want to know which part to perform. (live: 10s) [I say somwhat abruptly //I must go, I am in pain// and they sillently nod in a mode that I can only read as [[deep respect.|Day 4]]]

{(if: $blissglitch and $egameplay is true) [You have now travelled through three portals: The Bliss of the Glitch, Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying and Glitchful Thinking. [[Loading...|conclusion1]] ] (else-if: $blissglitch and $threestrings is true) [You have now travelled through three portals: The Bliss of the Glitch, Three Strings and Glitchful Thinking. [[Loading...|conclusion2]] ] (else-if: $threestrings and $egameplay is true) [You have now travelled through three portals: Three Strings, Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying and Glitchful Thinking. [[Loading...|conclusion3]] ] (else-if: $egameplay is true) [You have now travelled through two portals: Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying and Glitchful Thinking and you may be feeling ready for some kind of [[grounded landscape?|Three Strings]] ] (else-if: $threestrings is true) [You have now travelled through two portals: Three Strings and Glitchful Thinking and it is now time to stride out into a more [[ambient arena?|egameplay]] ] (else-if: $blissglitch is true) [Perhaps it is time to travel through another (either: "[[portal.|Three Strings]", "[[portal.|egameplay]]") ] (else-if: $glitchful is true) [Perhaps is time to travel through another (either: "[[portal|Three Strings]]", "[[portal|egameplay]]", "[[portal|blissglish]]") ] (else:) [(de-bug:) ERROR! The collection is breaking. Perhaps it is time to leave. Or explore inside the code. Right hand click and inspect the code and see what hidden text emerges there. <a href="end" >Exit Essaying</a>] }

''A CONCLUSION'' {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] }  (set: $typewriterText to "A blissing of the glitch is perhaps the most exuberant act of emergence. A resident glitch might find itself fast becoming a companion, if not a friend. There is a bleeding here and maybe also an undoing. There is unthought and a post-human world and also human and animal navigations. There is a level of ridiculousness. There is the surreal, the speculative and the realism. Are they genres or styles? Perhaps a style towards a narrative. The residency is ongoing here; the moths keep flying, the keys keep typing.") (text-style:"subscript","smear") + (text-size: 1)[Inventory of Thinkers] You have collected: \ (if: $inventoryofthinkers's length is 0)[\ a shimmering knowledge that feels itself quicken. ](else:)[\ \ (for: each _item, ...$inventoryofthinkers)[\ _item (unless: $inventoryofthinkers's last is _item)[,]\ ] ] You have travelled through: The Bliss of the Glitch, Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying, finishing on Glitchful Thinking. Adrenaline: (print: $adrenaline) Cortisol: (print: $cortisol) Dopamine: (print: $dopamine) Word: (print: $word) Style/Tone/Genre: (if: $surreal is true) [surreal], (if: $realism is true) [realism] (if: $speculative is true) [speculative] [<a href="end" >Exit Essaying</a>]

''A CONCLUSION'' {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] }  (set: $typewriterText to "A blissing of the glitch is perhaps the most exuberant act of emergence. A resident glitch might find itself fast becoming a companion, if not a friend. There is a bleeding here and a river flowing and maybe also an undoing. There is unthought and a post-human world and also human and animal navigations. There are ideas held in strings and planted in weirdness.There is a level of ridiculousness. There is the surreal, the speculative and the realism. There is the potential to be strung out. Are they stress, orgenres or styles? Perhaps a style towards a narrative, a style towards a life. Something to pluck upon. The residency is ongoing here; the ribbons and rivers flow, the keys keep typing.") (text-style:"subscript","smear") + (text-size: 1)[Inventory of Thinkers] You have collected: \ (if: $inventoryofthinkers's length is 0)[\ a shimmering knowledge that feels itself quicken. ](else:)[\ \ (for: each _item, ...$inventoryofthinkers)[\ _item (unless: $inventoryofthinkers's last is _item)[,]\ ] ] You have travelled through: The Bliss of the Glitch, Three Strings, finishing on Glitchful Thinking. Adrenaline: (print: $adrenaline) Cortisol: (print: $cortisol) Dopamine: (print: $dopamine) Word: (print: $word) Style/Tone/Genre: (if: $surreal is true) [surreal], (if: $realism is true) [realism] (if: $speculative is true) [speculative] [<a href="end" >Exit Essaying</a>]

''A CONCLUSION'' {  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 20ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (stop:) ] ] }  (set: $typewriterText to "A glitch escaping into the string is perhaps the most exuberant act of emergence, though it might seem far from it. A resident glitch might find itself fast becoming a companion, if not a friend. There is a bleeding here and a river flowing and maybe also an undoing. There is unthought and a post-human world and also human and animal navigations. There are ideas held in strings and planted in weirdness.There is a level of ridiculousness. There is the surreal, the speculative and the realism. There is the potential to be strung out. Are they stress, orgenres or styles? Perhaps a style towards a narrative, a style towards a life. Something to pluck upon. Something to emerge within The residency is ongoing here; the ribbons and rivers flow, the keys keep typing.") (text-style:"subscript","smear") + (text-size: 1)[Inventory of Thinkers] You have collected: \ (if: $inventoryofthinkers's length is 0)[\ a shimmering knowledge that feels itself quicken. ](else:)[\ \ (for: each _item, ...$inventoryofthinkers)[\ _item (unless: $inventoryofthinkers's last is _item)[,]\ ] ] You have travelled through: Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying, Three Strings, finishing on Glitchful Thinking. Adrenaline: (print: $adrenaline) Cortisol: (print: $cortisol) Dopamine: (print: $dopamine) Word: (print: $word) Style/Tone/Genre: (if: $surreal is true) [surreal], (if: $realism is true) [realism] (if: $speculative is true) [speculative] [<a href="end" >Exit Essaying</a>]

{ (set: $adrenaline to (str:$adrenaline)) (set: $dopamine to (str:$dopamine)) (set: $cortisol to (str: $cortisol)) (set: _varList to "") (set: _varList to it + "&a=" + $adrenaline + "&b=" + $dopamine + "&c=" + $cortisol) (set: _varList to _varList + "&i=bib") (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Barthes, Roland, 1977. ‘Death of the Author’. Image-Music-Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Hill and Wang.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rb2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carpenter, J. R., 2019. The Pleasure of the Coast. Online. Available at: <http://luckysoap.com/pleasurecoast/en/index.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carson, Anne, 2000. Plainwater. New York: Vintage Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ac")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carson, Anne, 2014. Eros: The Bittersweet: An Essay. Princeton: Princeton University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ac2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Consalvo, Mia, 2009. Cheating: Gaining Advantage in Video Games. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Coover, Robert, 1992. ‘The End of Books’, The New York Times. Available at: <https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/98/09/27/specials/coover-end.html?pagewanted=all>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Davis, Lydia, 2019. Essays. Hamish Hamilton. e-book.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ld")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Derrida, Jacques, 1994. Specters of Marx: the State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning and the New International.trans. Peggy Kamuf. London: Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "DuPlessis, Rachel Blau, 2006. Blue Studios. The University of Alabama Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rbd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Emergent Gameplay', 2017. Technopedia. by Margaret Rouse. Available at: <https://www.techopedia.com/definition/27043/emergent-gameplay/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",eg")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Halberstam, Jack, 2011. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham, US: Duke University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hay, Jonathan, 2020. 'Fully Optimized: The (Post)human Art of Speedrunning'. Journal of Posthuman Studies, Vol. 4, No.1. The Pennsylvania State University. pp. 5-24. <https://doi.org/10.5325/jpoststud 4.10005.>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jh2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Horowitz, Steve, Looney, Scott, 2014. The Essential Guide to Game Audio: The Theory and Practice of Sound for Games. Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",shsl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Jackson, Shelley, 1997. 'my body - a Wunderkammer'. Electronic Literature Collection, Volume One, October 2006. Online. Available at: <https://collection.eliterature.org/1/works/jackson__my_body_a_wunderkammer.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",sj")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Jayemanne, Darshana, 2019. 'Chronotypology: A Comparative Method for Analyzing Game Time.' Games and Culture, 15(7). pp. 809-824. <https://doi.org/10.1177/1555412019845593>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",dj")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Meades, Alan, 2013. 'Why We Glitch: Process, Meaning and Pleasure in the discovery and documentation, sharing and use of videogame exploits.' Well Played: a journal on video games, value and meaning. pp. 79-98. ETC Press. <https://doi.org/10.1184/R1/6687068.v1>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",am")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Menkman, Rosa, 2011. 'The Glitch Moment(um)'. Institute of Network Cultures. Available at: <https://networkcultures.org/_uploadsNN%234_RosaMenkman.pdf>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rm")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Montfort, Nick, 2005. Twisty Little Passages: An Approach to Interactive Fiction. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",nm")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Myers, Rhea, 2014. glitcherature. Online. Available at: <https://rhea.art/glitcherature/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rm2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Myles, Eileen, 2017. 'Eileen Myles Interview:A Poem Says 'I Want''. Louisiana Channel. Available at: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCnKGl2YDto>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",em")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Parker, Dorothy. I hate writing. I love having written', is now such a common quotation that the origin of when she said it is unclear, a quotation that has been passed around so easily, whether it was actually written like that by her is uncertain.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",dp")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Quinn, Zoe, Patrick Lindsey, Isaac Schankler, 2013. Depression Quest. Online. Available at: <http://www.depressionquest.com/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",zq")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Robertson, Lisa, 2012. 'Time in the Codex'. Nilling: Prose Essays on Noise, Pornography, The Codex, Melancholy, Lucretius, Folds, Cities and Related Aporias. 2nd edition. Toronto: Book*hug Press. pp. 9-18.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Russell, Legacy, 2020. Glitch Feminism: A Manifesto. Verso Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lr2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Sampat, Elizabeth, 2017. Am I Part of The Problem</em. Online. Available at: <https://elizabethsampat.itch.io/am-i-part-of-the-problem/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",es")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Sampat, Elizabeth, 2017. Empathy Engines: Design Games that are Personal, Political and Profound. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",es2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Scully-Blaker, Rainforest, 2014. 'A Practiced Practice: Speedrunning Through Space with de Certeau and Virilio'. Game Studies: the international journal of computer game research, volume 14 issue 1, August 2014. Available at: <https://gamestudies.org/1401/articles/scullyblaker/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rsb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Self, Will, interviewed by Alan Clark, 2018. 'Will Self: ‘The novel is absolutely doomed’. The Guardian. Available at: <https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/mar/17/will-self-the-books-interview-alex-clark-phone-memoir/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ws")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Smith, Ail, 2012. Artful. London: Penguin")[(set: _varList to _varList + ",as")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Smith, Ali, interviewed by Sarah Lyall, 2014. 'An Onion of a Novel: Demanding to be Peeled'. The New York Times. Available at: <https://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/26/books/ali-smith-on-her-new-book-how-to-be-both.html/>.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",as2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Solnit, Rebecca, 2006. A Field Guide to Getting Lost. London: Penguin.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "SPAM zine and Press, n.d. '>What is post internet?'. Available at: <https://www.spamzine.co.uk/what-is-post-internet/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",sz")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 1971, 1931. How to Write. New York: Dover Pubications.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",gs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stewart, Kathleen, 2007. Ordinary Affects. Durham, US: Duke University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ks")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hejinian, Lyn, and Leslie Scalapino, 2021. Hearing. Litmus Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Mansfield, Katherine, 1920:1988. Bliss. Auckland, New Zealand: Vintage.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",km")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy. University of Chicago Press, pp. 27–54.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ps")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Zambra, Alejandro, 2015. My Documents. trans. Megan McDowell. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",az")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "de Montaigne, Michel. 1572: 1993. Montaigne: The Essays. Trans. M.A. Screech. London: Penguin Classics.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mm")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Barthes, Roland, 1975. The Pleasure of the Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Wark, Mckenzie, 2007. Gamer Theory. London: Harvard University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Wang, Jackie and Christopher Soto, 2023. 'Will AI replace writers — and the rest of us? An L.A. scholar-poet games out the future'. Los Angeles Times. Online. Available at: <https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2023-08-23/will-ai-replace-writers-christopher-soto-jackie-wang-game-out-the-future/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Al Maria, Sophia, 2019. Sad Sack. London: Bookworks.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",sa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dinnen, Zara, 2021. The Digital Banal: New Media and American Literature and Culture (Literature Now). Columbia University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",zd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Berlant, Lauren, 2016. 'The commons: Infrastructures for troubling times*'. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, Vol. 34, No. 3, pp. 393-419. <https://doi.org/10.1177/0263775816645989/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Artist, American, 2018. ‘Black Gooey Universe’, Unbag. Available at: <https://unbag.net/end/black-gooey-universe>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",aa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 2012, 1914. Tender Buttons. New York: Dover Publications.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",gs2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Kaku, Michio, 2014. 'I am Dr. Michio Kaku, co-founder of string field theory and bestselling author of The Future of the Mind.' Reddit. Available at: <https://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/1ztgy9/im_dr_michio_kaku_a_physicist_co_founder_of/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mk")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Pythagorus (attrib.) Louise B. Young (ed.), 1965. The Mystery of Matter. Oxford: Oxford University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",p")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Notley, Alice, 2005. 'The Main Offense'. Jacket Magazine. Available at: <http://jacketmagazine.com/27/notl.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",an")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 1833.. 'Montaigne; or, the Skeptic'. Available at: <https://emersoncentral.com/texts/representative-men/montaigne-the-skeptic/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rwe")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Virilio, Paul, 1997. Open Sky. trans. by Julie Rose. London: Verso Book.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",pv")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Weil, Simone, 2004, 1955. Oppression and Liberty. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. London: Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",sw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "De Landa, Manuel, 1992. War in the Age of Intelligent Machines. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Zone Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",md")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "'Moths'. Butterfly Conservation. Available at: <https://butterfly-conservation.org/moths>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",m")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Fisher, Mark, 2017. The Weird and the Eerie. London: Repeater Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mf")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "McKinnon, Logan, 2024. 'The Dividing Road: How the M8 Motorway Destroyed Glasgow’s Communities.' Retrospect Journal. Available at: <https://retrospectjournal.com/2024/11/17/the-dividing-road-how-the-m8-motorway-destroyed-glasgows-communities/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",m8")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Woolf, Virgina, 1942. The Death of the Moth and Other Essays. New York: Harcourt.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",vw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Oliver, Mary, 1984. 'The Moths'.Poetry Foundation. Available at: <https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=143&issue=4&page=31>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mo2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Heti, Sheila, 2024. Alphabetical Diaries. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",sh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Quin, Ann, 1964: 2019. Berg. Sheffield: And Other Stories.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",aq")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lispector, Clarice, 1964: 2012. The Passion According to G.H. . trans. by Idra Novey. New York: New Directions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",cl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hopper, Grace, 1949: 2018. 'Grace under pressure.' National Museum of American History. by. Peggy A. Kidwell, Amelia Grabowski. Available at: <https://americanhistory.si.edu/explore/stories/grace-under-pressure>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",gs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lafarge, Daisy, 2023. Lovebug. London: Peninsula Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",dl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "'bliss', noun., 2023.'OED Online. Available at: <https://www.oed.com/dictionary/bliss_n?tab=factsheet>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",b")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Soerzputowski, Kate, 2015. 'Faig Ahmed Creates Glitched-Out Contemporary Rugs from Traditional Azerbaijani Textiles. Colossal. <https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/11/faig-ahmed-glitched-rugs/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",fa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dillon, Brian, 2023. 'On opening yourself to distraction: From a conversation with Maddie Crum.' The Creative Independent. Online. <https://thecreativeindependent.com/people/writer-brian-dillon-on-opening-yourself-to-distraction/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",bd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dillon, Brian, 2023. Affinities. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",bd2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lovelace, Ada, 1843: 2017. 'Ada Lovelace: Weaving Algebraic Patterns Like Looms Weave Flowers and Leaves'. The Good Times . Available at: <https://www.the-good-times.org/people-2/ada-lovelace-weaving-algebraic-patterns-like-looms-weave-flowers-and-leaves/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",al")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. 'Corpsing: On Sex, Death, and Inappropriate Laughter'. The Paris Review. Available at: <https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2022/06/16/corpsing-on-sex-death-and-spontaneous-laughter/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",na")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy Chicago: University of Chicago Press. pp. 27–54.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",ps")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Chun, Wendy Hui Kyong, 2017. Updating to Remain the Same: Habitual New Media Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",wc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Tanner, Grafton, 2020. The Cirlcle of the Snake: Nostalgia and Utopia in the Age of Big Tech. London: Zero Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",gc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Olson, Marisa 2008. ‘Postinternet: Art After the Internet’. Foam Magazine, Vol. 29. pp. 59-63.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mo")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 1925: 1995. The Making of Americans: Being a History of a Family’s Progress. London: Dalkey Archive Press.")[(set: _varList to _varList +",gs3")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Robinson, Sophie, 2018. 'art in america'. BOMB Magazine. Available at: <https://bombmagazine.org/articles/2018/03/06/sophie-robinson-poem/>") [(set: _varList to _varList +",sr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Waber, Dan, 2010. 'a kiss (for Jennifer)''. Electronic Literature Organisation. Available at: <https://collection.eliterature.org/4/works/a-kiss/a-kiss.html>") [(set: _varList to _varList +",dw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. Animal Joy. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.") [(set: _varList to _varList +",na1")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2017. Fourth Person Singular. Liverpool: Pavilion Poetry.") [(set: _varList to _varList +",na2")] (set: _tList to "&t=j") (set: _varList to _varList + _tList) (if: $charactera is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",a")] (if: $characterb is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",b")] (if: $characterc is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",c")] (if: $egameplay is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",d")] (if: $threestrings is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",e")] (if: $blissglitch is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",f")] (if: $glitchful is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",g")] (if: $entangled is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",h")] (if: $beginning is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",i")] (if: $unthought is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",j")] (if: $noise is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",k")] (if: $memory is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",l")] (if: $rupture is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",m")] (if: $glitch is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",n")] (if: $centre is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",o")] (if: $ongoingness is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",p")] (if: $saturation is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",q")] (if: $riddle is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",r")] (set: $url to "emergentessayingemergentgameplay?" + _varList) } (print: '<a href="'+ $url + '">Emergent Gameplay, Emergent Essaying</a>')

{ (set: $adrenaline to (str:$adrenaline)) (set: $dopamine to (str:$dopamine)) (set: $cortisol to (str: $cortisol)) (set: _varList to "") (set: _varList to it + "&a=" + $adrenaline + "&b=" + $dopamine + "&c=" + $cortisol) (set: _varList to _varList + "&i=bib") (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Barthes, Roland, 1977. ‘Death of the Author’. Image-Music-Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Hill and Wang.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rb2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carpenter, J. R., 2019. The Pleasure of the Coast. Online. Available at: <http://luckysoap.com/pleasurecoast/en/index.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carson, Anne, 2000. Plainwater. New York: Vintage Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ac")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carson, Anne, 2014. Eros: The Bittersweet: An Essay. Princeton: Princeton University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ac2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Consalvo, Mia, 2009. Cheating: Gaining Advantage in Video Games. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Coover, Robert, 1992. ‘The End of Books’, The New York Times. Available at: <https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/98/09/27/specials/coover-end.html?pagewanted=all>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Davis, Lydia, 2019. Essays. Hamish Hamilton. e-book.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ld")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Derrida, Jacques, 1994. Specters of Marx: the State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning and the New International.trans. Peggy Kamuf. London: Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "DuPlessis, Rachel Blau, 2006. Blue Studios. The University of Alabama Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rbd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Emergent Gameplay', 2017. Technopedia. by Margaret Rouse. Available at: <https://www.techopedia.com/definition/27043/emergent-gameplay/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",eg")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Halberstam, Jack, 2011. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham, US: Duke University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hay, Jonathan, 2020. 'Fully Optimized: The (Post)human Art of Speedrunning'. Journal of Posthuman Studies, Vol. 4, No.1. The Pennsylvania State University. pp. 5-24. <https://doi.org/10.5325/jpoststud 4.10005.>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jh2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Horowitz, Steve, Looney, Scott, 2014. The Essential Guide to Game Audio: The Theory and Practice of Sound for Games. 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New York: Dover Pubications.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",gs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stewart, Kathleen, 2007. Ordinary Affects. Durham, US: Duke University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ks")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hejinian, Lyn, and Leslie Scalapino, 2021. Hearing. Litmus Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Mansfield, Katherine, 1920:1988. Bliss. Auckland, New Zealand: Vintage.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",km")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy. University of Chicago Press, pp. 27–54.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ps")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Zambra, Alejandro, 2015. My Documents. trans. Megan McDowell. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",az")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "de Montaigne, Michel. 1572: 1993. Montaigne: The Essays. Trans. M.A. Screech. London: Penguin Classics.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mm")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Barthes, Roland, 1975. The Pleasure of the Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Wark, Mckenzie, 2007. Gamer Theory. London: Harvard University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Wang, Jackie and Christopher Soto, 2023. 'Will AI replace writers — and the rest of us? An L.A. scholar-poet games out the future'. Los Angeles Times. Online. Available at: <https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2023-08-23/will-ai-replace-writers-christopher-soto-jackie-wang-game-out-the-future/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Al Maria, Sophia, 2019. Sad Sack. London: Bookworks.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",sa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dinnen, Zara, 2021. The Digital Banal: New Media and American Literature and Culture (Literature Now). Columbia University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",zd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Berlant, Lauren, 2016. 'The commons: Infrastructures for troubling times*'. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, Vol. 34, No. 3, pp. 393-419. <https://doi.org/10.1177/0263775816645989/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Artist, American, 2018. ‘Black Gooey Universe’, Unbag. Available at: <https://unbag.net/end/black-gooey-universe>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",aa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 2012, 1914. Tender Buttons. New York: Dover Publications.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",gs2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Kaku, Michio, 2014. 'I am Dr. Michio Kaku, co-founder of string field theory and bestselling author of The Future of the Mind.' Reddit. Available at: <https://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/1ztgy9/im_dr_michio_kaku_a_physicist_co_founder_of/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mk")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Pythagorus (attrib.) Louise B. Young (ed.), 1965. The Mystery of Matter. Oxford: Oxford University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",p")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Notley, Alice, 2005. 'The Main Offense'. Jacket Magazine. Available at: <http://jacketmagazine.com/27/notl.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",an")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 1833.. 'Montaigne; or, the Skeptic'. Available at: <https://emersoncentral.com/texts/representative-men/montaigne-the-skeptic/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rwe")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Virilio, Paul, 1997. Open Sky. trans. by Julie Rose. London: Verso Book.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",pv")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Weil, Simone, 2004, 1955. Oppression and Liberty. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. London: Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",sw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "De Landa, Manuel, 1992. War in the Age of Intelligent Machines. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Zone Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",md")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "'Moths'. Butterfly Conservation. Available at: <https://butterfly-conservation.org/moths>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",m")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Fisher, Mark, 2017. The Weird and the Eerie. London: Repeater Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mf")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "McKinnon, Logan, 2024. 'The Dividing Road: How the M8 Motorway Destroyed Glasgow’s Communities.' Retrospect Journal. Available at: <https://retrospectjournal.com/2024/11/17/the-dividing-road-how-the-m8-motorway-destroyed-glasgows-communities/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",m8")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Woolf, Virgina, 1942. The Death of the Moth and Other Essays. New York: Harcourt.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",vw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Oliver, Mary, 1984. 'The Moths'.Poetry Foundation. Available at: <https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=143&issue=4&page=31>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mo2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Heti, Sheila, 2024. Alphabetical Diaries. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",sh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Quin, Ann, 1964: 2019. Berg. Sheffield: And Other Stories.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",aq")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lispector, Clarice, 1964: 2012. The Passion According to G.H. . trans. by Idra Novey. New York: New Directions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",cl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hopper, Grace, 1949: 2018. 'Grace under pressure.' National Museum of American History. by. Peggy A. Kidwell, Amelia Grabowski. Available at: <https://americanhistory.si.edu/explore/stories/grace-under-pressure>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",gs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lafarge, Daisy, 2023. Lovebug. London: Peninsula Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",dl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "'bliss', noun., 2023.'OED Online. Available at: <https://www.oed.com/dictionary/bliss_n?tab=factsheet>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",b")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Soerzputowski, Kate, 2015. 'Faig Ahmed Creates Glitched-Out Contemporary Rugs from Traditional Azerbaijani Textiles. Colossal. <https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/11/faig-ahmed-glitched-rugs/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",fa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dillon, Brian, 2023. 'On opening yourself to distraction: From a conversation with Maddie Crum.' The Creative Independent. Online. <https://thecreativeindependent.com/people/writer-brian-dillon-on-opening-yourself-to-distraction/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",bd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dillon, Brian, 2023. Affinities. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",bd2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lovelace, Ada, 1843: 2017. 'Ada Lovelace: Weaving Algebraic Patterns Like Looms Weave Flowers and Leaves'. The Good Times . Available at: <https://www.the-good-times.org/people-2/ada-lovelace-weaving-algebraic-patterns-like-looms-weave-flowers-and-leaves/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",al")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. 'Corpsing: On Sex, Death, and Inappropriate Laughter'. The Paris Review. Available at: <https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2022/06/16/corpsing-on-sex-death-and-spontaneous-laughter/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",na")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy Chicago: University of Chicago Press. pp. 27–54.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",ps")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Chun, Wendy Hui Kyong, 2017. Updating to Remain the Same: Habitual New Media Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",wc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Tanner, Grafton, 2020. The Cirlcle of the Snake: Nostalgia and Utopia in the Age of Big Tech. London: Zero Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",gc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Olson, Marisa 2008. ‘Postinternet: Art After the Internet’. Foam Magazine, Vol. 29. pp. 59-63.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mo")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 1925: 1995. The Making of Americans: Being a History of a Family’s Progress. London: Dalkey Archive Press.")[(set: _varList to _varList +",gs3")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Robinson, Sophie, 2018. 'art in america'. BOMB Magazine. Available at: <https://bombmagazine.org/articles/2018/03/06/sophie-robinson-poem/>") [(set: _varList to _varList +",sr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Waber, Dan, 2010. 'a kiss (for Jennifer)''. Electronic Literature Organisation. Available at: <https://collection.eliterature.org/4/works/a-kiss/a-kiss.html>") [(set: _varList to _varList +",dw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. Animal Joy. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.") [(set: _varList to _varList +",na1")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2017. Fourth Person Singular. Liverpool: Pavilion Poetry.") [(set: _varList to _varList +",na2")] (set: _tList to "&t=j") (set: _varList to _varList + _tList) (if: $charactera is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",a")] (if: $characterb is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",b")] (if: $characterc is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",c")] (if: $egameplay is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",d")] (if: $threestrings is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",e")] (if: $blissglitch is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",f")] (if: $glitchful is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",g")] (if: $entangled is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",h")] (if: $beginning is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",i")] (if: $unthought is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",j")] (if: $noise is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",k")] (if: $memory is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",l")] (if: $rupture is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",m")] (if: $glitch is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",n")] (if: $centre is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",o")] (if: $ongoingness is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",p")] (if: $saturation is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",q")] (if: $riddle is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",r")] (set: $url to "theblissoftheglitch?" + _varList) } (print: '<a href="'+ $url + '">The Bliss of the Glitch</a>')

{ (set: $adrenaline to (str:$adrenaline)) (set: $dopamine to (str:$dopamine)) (set: $cortisol to (str: $cortisol)) (set: _varList to "") (set: _varList to it + "&a=" + $adrenaline + "&b=" + $dopamine + "&c=" + $cortisol) (set: _varList to _varList + "&i=bib") (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Barthes, Roland, 1977. ‘Death of the Author’. Image-Music-Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Hill and Wang.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rb2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carpenter, J. R., 2019. The Pleasure of the Coast. Online. Available at: <http://luckysoap.com/pleasurecoast/en/index.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carson, Anne, 2000. Plainwater. New York: Vintage Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ac")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Carson, Anne, 2014. Eros: The Bittersweet: An Essay. Princeton: Princeton University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ac2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Consalvo, Mia, 2009. Cheating: Gaining Advantage in Video Games. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Coover, Robert, 1992. ‘The End of Books’, The New York Times. Available at: <https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/98/09/27/specials/coover-end.html?pagewanted=all>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Davis, Lydia, 2019. Essays. Hamish Hamilton. e-book.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ld")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Derrida, Jacques, 1994. Specters of Marx: the State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning and the New International.trans. Peggy Kamuf. London: Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "DuPlessis, Rachel Blau, 2006. Blue Studios. 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Available at: <https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/mar/17/will-self-the-books-interview-alex-clark-phone-memoir/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ws")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Smith, Ail, 2012. Artful. London: Penguin")[(set: _varList to _varList + ",as")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Smith, Ali, interviewed by Sarah Lyall, 2014. 'An Onion of a Novel: Demanding to be Peeled'. The New York Times. Available at: <https://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/26/books/ali-smith-on-her-new-book-how-to-be-both.html/>.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",as2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Solnit, Rebecca, 2006. A Field Guide to Getting Lost. London: Penguin.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "SPAM zine and Press, n.d. '>What is post internet?'. Available at: <https://www.spamzine.co.uk/what-is-post-internet/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",sz")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 1971, 1931. How to Write. New York: Dover Pubications.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",gs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stewart, Kathleen, 2007. Ordinary Affects. Durham, US: Duke University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ks")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hejinian, Lyn, and Leslie Scalapino, 2021. Hearing. Litmus Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Mansfield, Katherine, 1920:1988. Bliss. Auckland, New Zealand: Vintage.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",km")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy. University of Chicago Press, pp. 27–54.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",ps")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Zambra, Alejandro, 2015. My Documents. trans. Megan McDowell. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",az")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "de Montaigne, Michel. 1572: 1993. Montaigne: The Essays. Trans. M.A. Screech. London: Penguin Classics.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mm")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Barthes, Roland, 1975. The Pleasure of the Text. trans. by Richard Miller. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Wark, Mckenzie, 2007. Gamer Theory. London: Harvard University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Wang, Jackie and Christopher Soto, 2023. 'Will AI replace writers — and the rest of us? An L.A. scholar-poet games out the future'. Los Angeles Times. Online. Available at: <https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/books/story/2023-08-23/will-ai-replace-writers-christopher-soto-jackie-wang-game-out-the-future/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",jw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Al Maria, Sophia, 2019. Sad Sack. London: Bookworks.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",sa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dinnen, Zara, 2021. The Digital Banal: New Media and American Literature and Culture (Literature Now). Columbia University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",zd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Berlant, Lauren, 2016. 'The commons: Infrastructures for troubling times*'. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, Vol. 34, No. 3, pp. 393-419. <https://doi.org/10.1177/0263775816645989/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",lb")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Artist, American, 2018. ‘Black Gooey Universe’, Unbag. Available at: <https://unbag.net/end/black-gooey-universe>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",aa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 2012, 1914. Tender Buttons. New York: Dover Publications.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",gs2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Kaku, Michio, 2014. 'I am Dr. Michio Kaku, co-founder of string field theory and bestselling author of The Future of the Mind.' Reddit. Available at: <https://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/1ztgy9/im_dr_michio_kaku_a_physicist_co_founder_of/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",mk")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Pythagorus (attrib.) Louise B. Young (ed.), 1965. The Mystery of Matter. Oxford: Oxford University Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",p")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Notley, Alice, 2005. 'The Main Offense'. Jacket Magazine. Available at: <http://jacketmagazine.com/27/notl.html>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",an")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 1833.. 'Montaigne; or, the Skeptic'. Available at: <https://emersoncentral.com/texts/representative-men/montaigne-the-skeptic/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",rwe")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Virilio, Paul, 1997. Open Sky. trans. by Julie Rose. London: Verso Book.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",pv")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Weil, Simone, 2004, 1955. Oppression and Liberty. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. London: Routledge.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",sw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "De Landa, Manuel, 1992. War in the Age of Intelligent Machines. trans. by Arthur Wills, John Petrie. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Zone Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",md")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "'Moths'. Butterfly Conservation. Available at: <https://butterfly-conservation.org/moths>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",m")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Fisher, Mark, 2017. The Weird and the Eerie. London: Repeater Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mf")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "McKinnon, Logan, 2024. 'The Dividing Road: How the M8 Motorway Destroyed Glasgow’s Communities.' Retrospect Journal. Available at: <https://retrospectjournal.com/2024/11/17/the-dividing-road-how-the-m8-motorway-destroyed-glasgows-communities/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",m8")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Woolf, Virgina, 1942. The Death of the Moth and Other Essays. New York: Harcourt.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",vw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Oliver, Mary, 1984. 'The Moths'.Poetry Foundation. Available at: <https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?volume=143&issue=4&page=31>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mo2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Heti, Sheila, 2024. Alphabetical Diaries. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",sh")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Quin, Ann, 1964: 2019. Berg. Sheffield: And Other Stories.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",aq")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lispector, Clarice, 1964: 2012. The Passion According to G.H. . trans. by Idra Novey. New York: New Directions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",cl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Hopper, Grace, 1949: 2018. 'Grace under pressure.' National Museum of American History. by. Peggy A. Kidwell, Amelia Grabowski. Available at: <https://americanhistory.si.edu/explore/stories/grace-under-pressure>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",gs")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lafarge, Daisy, 2023. Lovebug. London: Peninsula Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",dl")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "'bliss', noun., 2023.'OED Online. Available at: <https://www.oed.com/dictionary/bliss_n?tab=factsheet>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",b")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Soerzputowski, Kate, 2015. 'Faig Ahmed Creates Glitched-Out Contemporary Rugs from Traditional Azerbaijani Textiles. Colossal. <https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/11/faig-ahmed-glitched-rugs/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",fa")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dillon, Brian, 2023. 'On opening yourself to distraction: From a conversation with Maddie Crum.' The Creative Independent. Online. <https://thecreativeindependent.com/people/writer-brian-dillon-on-opening-yourself-to-distraction/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",bd")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Dillon, Brian, 2023. Affinities. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",bd2")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Lovelace, Ada, 1843: 2017. 'Ada Lovelace: Weaving Algebraic Patterns Like Looms Weave Flowers and Leaves'. The Good Times . Available at: <https://www.the-good-times.org/people-2/ada-lovelace-weaving-algebraic-patterns-like-looms-weave-flowers-and-leaves/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",al")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. 'Corpsing: On Sex, Death, and Inappropriate Laughter'. The Paris Review. Available at: <https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2022/06/16/corpsing-on-sex-death-and-spontaneous-laughter/>")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",na")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Spacks, Patricia Meyer, 2003. ‘Privacies of Reading’. Privacy Chicago: University of Chicago Press. pp. 27–54.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",ps")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Chun, Wendy Hui Kyong, 2017. Updating to Remain the Same: Habitual New Media Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",wc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Tanner, Grafton, 2020. The Cirlcle of the Snake: Nostalgia and Utopia in the Age of Big Tech. London: Zero Books.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",gc")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Olson, Marisa 2008. ‘Postinternet: Art After the Internet’. Foam Magazine, Vol. 29. pp. 59-63.")[ (set: _varList to _varList +",mo")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Stein, Gertrude, 1925: 1995. The Making of Americans: Being a History of a Family’s Progress. London: Dalkey Archive Press.")[(set: _varList to _varList +",gs3")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Robinson, Sophie, 2018. 'art in america'. BOMB Magazine. Available at: <https://bombmagazine.org/articles/2018/03/06/sophie-robinson-poem/>") [(set: _varList to _varList +",sr")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Waber, Dan, 2010. 'a kiss (for Jennifer)''. Electronic Literature Organisation. Available at: <https://collection.eliterature.org/4/works/a-kiss/a-kiss.html>") [(set: _varList to _varList +",dw")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2022. Animal Joy. London: Fitzcarraldo Editions.") [(set: _varList to _varList +",na1")] (if: $inventoryofthinkers contains "Alsadir, Nuar, 2017. Fourth Person Singular. Liverpool: Pavilion Poetry.") [(set: _varList to _varList +",na2")] (set: _tList to "&t=j") (set: _varList to _varList + _tList) (if: $charactera is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",a")] (if: $characterb is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",b")] (if: $characterc is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",c")] (if: $egameplay is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",d")] (if: $threestrings is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",e")] (if: $blissglitch is true)[ (set: _varList to _varList + ",f")] (if: $glitchful is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",g")] (if: $entangled is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",h")] (if: $beginning is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",i")] (if: $unthought is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",j")] (if: $noise is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",k")] (if: $memory is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",l")] (if: $rupture is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",m")] (if: $glitch is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",n")] (if: $centre is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",o")] (if: $ongoingness is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",p")] (if: $saturation is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",q")] (if: $riddle is true) [ (set: _varList to _varList + ",r")] (set: $url to "three-strings?" + _varList) } (print: '<a href="'+ $url + '">Three Strings</a>')

(if: $speculative is true)[I enter the room and see (print: $name) crouched down on the floor surrounded by objects: iPhones, VR headsets, tablets, with various wires and other half screens surrounding them. They seem to be in the process of taking these pieces apart, though everything looked brand new. They're not looking back at me, as though again is just no big deal that I am here, that time has allowed it and so needs must. I don't understand time and it seems neither do they because it looks as though they've been at this for hours, in fact days; [[now I understand the absence.]]] (else-if: $realism is true) [I enter the room and see (print: $name) crouched down on the floor surrounded by objects: old bits of technology like flip phones and They seem to be in the process of taking these items of recent nostalgia apart. They're not looking back at me, as though again it is just no big deal that I am here, that time has allowed it and so needs must. I don't understand time and it seems neither do they because it looks as though they've been at this for hours, in fact days; [[now I understand the absence.]]] (else-if: $surreal is true) [I enter the room and like increasing numbers of spaces within this building, the wind is gushing through the windows and indeed, through large sections of the wall. How does (print: $name) live like this? I then realise that I too am taking some exuberance in this weathering. After taking that all in, I see (print: $name) crouched down on the floor surrounded by objects; technology from the past and present: old desktops and large telephones alongside iPhones, VR headsets, tablets, with various wires and other half screens surrounding them. They seem to be in the process of taking these pieces apart, though everything looked brand new. They're not looking back at me, as though again it is just no big deal that I am here, that time has allowed it and so needs must. I don't understand time and it seems neither do they because it looks as though they've been at this for hours, in fact days; [[now I understand the absence.]]]

(if: $speculative is true)[I sit down and take part in this undoing with them and they nod appreciatively. It seems that no technology works here at all and indeed, that there is a strange feeling of everything having turned off. Where is everyone here? Why is (print: $name) so intent on keeping all this //stuff//? The two of us take apart a VR headset and then they say //great// as though that's it... I don't understand and yet here I find myself still, taking object after object apart. There is something strangely comforting about it. We take the pieces; we open them up and then we stack them neatly to the side. It is almost as though this room is the replacement for any other environment where this stuff migh go. //It's all so old//, (print: $name) says and I wonder what you would say to that. I murmur in appreciation, though I don't agree. [[Time shifts|Day 5 opening]]] (else-if: $realism is true) [I sit down and take part in this undoing with them and they nod appreciatively. It seems these old pieces of tech have been dumped around here, particularly down by the river. In this //elsewhere// site, things unwanted can go. Maybe that sounds bleak but it is how it feels. A torn away building. A lone character. I was always trying to find another angle. Where is everyone here? Why is (print: $name) so intent on keeping all this //stuff//? Perhaps it is not for me to question and I will continue recycling my ideas and they will continue unpacking and undoing non-art in an artistic mode. The two of us take apart a flip phone very delicately and with great care and then they say //beautiful//. I don't understand and yet here I find myself still, taking object after object apart. There is something strangely comforting about it. We take the pieces; we open them up and then we stack them neatly to the side. It is almost as though this room is the replacement for the outside world where these slices of plastic might otherwise go. These objects are resident and seem to plan on staying. I don't [[understand time|Day 5]]. ]] (else-if: $surreal is true) [I sit down and take part in this undoing with them and they nod appreciatively. These are seemingly banal objects at first but as I look closer, I realise that there is stuff //growing// in them. Strange plants like mini forests grow up between old keyboards, some sort of fungi stretches outside of a pink flip phone, a single plant grows expertly through a dusty webcam. Moths flutter in and rest on the dust and the camera, peering inside towards an imagined light. (print: $name) seems to welcome all kinds of bugs as they swarm up from the floordboards and in from the forest. The two of us take apart a flip phone very delicately and with great care and then they say //beautiful//. I don't understand and yet here I find myself still, taking object after object apart, as a sort of style, or what you could call a genre of art. You are somehow here too, though I don't know you at all, and just like (print: $name), I cannot imagine your face or character. There is something strangely comforting about settling the plants and other growing organisms in these benign pieces of plastic. [[We stay there all day and fall asleep on the floor.|Day 5]]]