but i respect your search

you have a beautiful account btw

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

kind of mythopoesis

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

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

isaac

is everyoneback on tumblr now

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

send your tumblr

not so on: yvf(wthw)

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

fw

Picture

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.

Style

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

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.

was it worth it

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.