currently
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
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.
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
the site i am dreaming
propensity within someone
amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.
in a post. I want to be remembered
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Better Lift