It Will Get Lighter

you cannot feed someone truth

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

as in

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

i see a website

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

13, H, grate

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

kind of mythopoesis

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

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

It Will Get Lighter

currently

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

A procession forms behind the French Raj and his fireworks bearer as they head out the door. I've lost my Korean colleague / fresh meat in the chaos. I'm sure he'll be able to fend for himself. They have mandatory military service in Korea.

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

really i want the internet

but i respect your search

As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.