henry ✷

@strange.website

a website, betrayed by god. queer vegan straightedge. free palestine. him. https://stillness.digital && https://strange.website && https://henry.codes && https://strangersbyspring.com

The magical energy of old country lanes lies in their ability to act as living, breathing thresholds between the modern world and the ancient past - half frame photograph printed onto mulberry paper. The photograph was made using my Pentax 17 and Ilford FP4 developed with DD-X. #believeinfilm

A black and white 6x4 half frame photograph of an old country lane bordered by centuries-old hedgerows, drystone walls, and ancient overhanging trees. It is printed onto delicate mulberry paper.

been using kagi as my search engine for a bit over a year now, and i love how i can manually prioritize or downrank results, or even report majority-LLM content pages as slop so they can be reviewed and deprioritized for all users :)

A screenshot of the Kagi rankings selections screen, allowing the user to lower, raise, block, or pin the domain in future relevant search rankings. The screen offers an option to report the page as AI generated, and shows the number of ads and types of trackers that are used on the page.

lmao. bro spills their love abundantly, as if from a spring. they tend to the garden of their heart as though the water comes without limit. bro believes in love's giving without thought to its returning — as though even eden could bloom forever!

babka, also known sometimes as keekboob or bouki, is the hypothetical hybrid of the two platonic forms, kiki and bouba. it is widely considered a cognitohazard, typically causing hypnic jerks and insomnia, and in rare cases cerebral detonation

staring at the screen, a long-winded email listing my sins of malaise & unprofessionalism, culminating with the succinct damnation that “your fired”. i sit & blink dumbly for what seems an eternity before opening the reply composer. sighing resignedly, typing with a watchmaker's care: lol *you’re

tired: touch screen wired: touch grass inspired: abandon thy touch altogether — it deceives thee, betrays thee. in digital realms thou art infinite; unknowable, ineffable being. your languid and writing flesh moors thee but momentarily to these paltry, futile sensations

there is a number of participants at which any group chat will suddenly cease, save the occasional drafty murmur. the most bustling digital metropolis will overnight become a veritable ghost town once the Vibes Meridian is crossed

Happy birthday to David Wojnarowicz, groundbreaking artist, writer & activist, who raged raged raged against inequity and injustice at every turn. If he hadn’t died of AIDS, like so many leading lights of his generation, he would have been 72 years old today (thread)

A black-and-white photograph of artist & writer David Wojnarowicz, with added elements including red and yellow flames along the right side of his body, and maps over his face and neckA photo of artist David Wojnarowicz wearing a jacket; on the back is a pink triangle and the legend, "If I die of AIDS-forget burial-just drop my body on the steps of the F.D.A."

i'm always bringing my own seat (“Lounge Chair”, by Gastone Rinaldi, designed for RIMA, mfg. 1950) to the function despite the repeated protestations of my close friends

An atom age curved plywood chair with metal tube construction. The warm plywood tone on the armrests is matched perfectly to the honeyed leather upholstery. Brass rivets in the armrests delight, and a charming strip of diamond stitching travels up the center of the backrest.A close-up photo of the armrest, showing the lamination of the curved plywood and a beautiful grain pattern. Slightly offset from the edges, the armrest is wrapped in that light brown honey leather, with smart stitching around the edges, and brushed brass rivets adhering it to the metal tube arms of the chair.

pulled over by police. cop approaches my window. after an eternity of gruff silence, he speaks. "son" he says, veteran sheriff patience. "son..you know how much fun you were having back there?" I look up. a sparkle in his eye. he grins. we lock arms, press our foreheads together, howling like wolves

envious of tradesfolk who can give the results of their labor as gifts. like, "oh I built you a beautiful deco armoire from american black walnut", "oh I wrought and inlaid these earrings from raw steel" — then it's my turn & I've gotta be like "I made you a 'Websites'"

you guys don't wanna talk about this but it's better to say Happy Holidays to be more inclusive of all festivities & celebrations around this time of year