get rid of h1s (#151)

Author: purajit

data/blog/reduce-site-size

@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-<h1 class="writing-title">[eng] Reducing my site size by ~75%</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">[eng] Reducing my site size by ~75%</div>
 
 [In case you're a recruiter: this is satire. The egotistical wording here is very much antithetical to what I value.]
 

data/blog/xz-backdoor-readings

@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-<h1 class="writing-title">[eng] xz backdoor readings</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">[eng] xz backdoor readings</div>
 
 List of readings to understand the scope of the xz backdoor situation.
 

data/lorem

@@ -1,12 +1,12 @@
-<h1>Ipsum. Dolor sit amet, consectetur (adipiscing elit) sed do eiusmod!!</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">Ipsum. Dolor sit amet, consectetur (adipiscing elit) sed do eiusmod!!</div>
 
 Tempor **incididunt** ut labore. Et dolore magna aliqua, ut enim. AD! MINIM! VENIAM! QUIS! Nostrud _exercitation_ ullamco laboris - nisi ut ¿aliquip? Ex ea ¡commodo consequat!
 
 ## Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse
 
 ### <a name="anchor"></a>cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla
 
-* pariatur. [Excepteur](#anchor) sint  
+* pariatur. [Excepteur](#anchor) sint
 occaecat cupidatat non proident,
 * sunt in culpa qui officia
     * deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

data/writing/dark-visions

@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-<h1 class="writing-title">Dark Visions | 2015</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">Dark Visions | 2015</div>
 <i>Sounds of children shouting gleefully, more chasing after them. Butterflies, birds, blossoms – the whole painting, essentially. Braids whip around in a game of tag, benches occupied by casually chatting parents. A squeak, from the swing. And another, and another.</i> Squeak, squeak, squeak. <i>Sun slowly rises – up, up, up, blazing overhead: sweat glazes the slides and seesaws.  Exodus, influx, exodus, influx, a new delivery of families each hour. Sun sinks slowly – down, down, down: children on the grass, rather than the playthings. Balls lie strewn everywhere. Exodus, exodus, as moon begins to smile. Exodus, and now night. But the squeak of the swing continues –</i> squeak, squeak, squeak.<i> The last of the children, gone – inertia drives the swing? Night produces ominous sounds, overlaid by the swing – it gets closer and closer. There’s nothing juvenile or mischievous: no-one rides the swing, but it SQUEAKS AND SQUEAKS AS THE LOW, RESOUNDING THUDS GET CLOSER – maybe there is a boy, lost in time, on the swing. Run, boy, run – run from the thuds – the creatures under the bed, they’ve come alive – they’ve caught scent, THEY LUST. ESCAPE THE THUDS, ESCAPE THEM! But the swing keeps rocking, unaware and childish, naïve: a symphony of squeaks and thuds and monstrous voices that the boy seems unaware of, swinging higher and higher and higher as SQUEAK THUD SNARL SNARL THUD SQUEAK SQUEAK – the swing goes higher and higher and higher and higher and higher and there’s a scream –</i>
 
 <i>Zip. Pant, pant. Quick look behind, zip again. Pant. Always in motion, always hiding, always running away from the horrors behind. The ground rises up with the beat of the heart, with the breath of the lung, each touch of it feels like an evil hand grasping, suffocating, constricting – no time: the danger approaches: time to speed away through the grass. When the danger is invisible, senses are all-important. When there is paranoia, the senses are unreliable, useless. The danger wins. The danger </i>always<i> wins. It dominates life with a stronger hand than any law of physics – it hides behind every pillar, under every slab of concrete that makes up the sidewalks, in every pipe that delivers water or steam, behind every flesh-colored mask worn by loved ones, their smiles covering up for the evil within, waiting for the slightest drop in guard – when they lurch and lose their masks: the lips sagging, teeth glistening, the skin on the face undulating and stretching as the veins pop, the eyeballs bulging and pulsing and hideous wing-tentacles unfurling from below the jaw – WHAT WAS THAT? Run RUN oh god run zip away zip away zip away. Heart thudding, right in the head – hearing rendered useless, just like everything else, eyesight clouded by the incessant pumping of arteries. Run up a nearby tree and scope the area? But the danger sees – it follows: it always knows, why wouldn’t it? Here it comes, blazing towards the tree, covering the distance almost instantly: it’s trapped its prey. Nowhere to go but up, and up it goes, leaving nothing but a vacuum of air behind it as evidence.</i>

data/writing/misunderstood-waters

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-<h1 class="writing-title">misunderstood waters | 2024</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">misunderstood waters | 2024</div>
 Oh Great Lakes of yore, you breath of living life
 How you lie here, drained of your essence
 Your basin is beautiful, don’t misread my words

data/writing/obsolete

@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-<h1 class="writing-title">Obsolete | 2024</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">Obsolete | 2024</div>
 I know only how to use a hammer, but all the furniture needed has already been made.
 Forests have been felled, but Men have been homed, given beds on which to fuck,
 tables on which to dine, floors on which to watch their toddlers learn to walk.

data/writing/protector

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-<h1 class="writing-title">Protector | 2020</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">Protector | 2020</div>
 ever been pushed down, with your head to the ground and a knee to your neck
 while your lungs grasp for air, the air that's the plentiful outside if you're blue
 can't breathe, asthmatic, plastic bag forced over your head

data/writing/pyre

@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-<h1 class="writing-title">At The Pyre | 2015</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">At The Pyre | 2015</div>
 This pyre burns bright and strong; your soul so powerful I can see it vaporize – I breathe in every particle of ash and burned wood as they crackle into the air. I can imagine us dancing next to a campfire like we did last October, or helping you recover consciousness after you passed out in front of the fireplace in December, when you decided to try your hand at kindling.
 
 Those hands – I miss those hands. I'm in half a mind to pull you out of the fire, so powerful that it makes the atmosphere restless, and wrap you around myself. I think again of us bundled up together under the blankets, so warm, arms around each other with hot chocolate on the carpet in front of us, and a book between us. Truth be told, I read not a word of it, heard not a word: I only listened to your voice and your prosody, the way you enunciated every word. I watched for the rolled r's, and smiled knowing how self-aware you would be while saying the word "world" as the ‘l' bounced around your palate. I nearly cried that night because the feelings inside swelled so much that I could feel them trying to escape from my eyes as I stared at your lips moving. I would have cried so much more if I'd known I'd be standing here so soon after.

data/writing/stagnation

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-<h1 class="writing-title">Stagnation | 2023</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">Stagnation | 2023</div>
 [coming soon]

data/writing/theunion

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-<h1 class="writing-title">The Union | 2023</h1>
+<div class="writing-title">The Union | 2023</div>
 as of this morning, you've been found be out of check, out of check
 in the year of our lord you've been deemed a pest, deemed a pest