Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
Better Lift
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
so the method has to be autonomous
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
but i respect your search
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
division of reality is straying away from it
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
hello reader,
He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.