idk

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

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.

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

its good short few pages

that looks like my instagram account

and the fake qualifier

no like which do people call me

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

we need to be deconstructing our identities

thank you

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

I Write Goodbye Letter

ahnaf abrar

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

i dont understand magnetisation

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

lol yea

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

so the method has to be autonomous

no i haven't really read anything

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.