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.

I am below everything.

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


Better Lift

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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


"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
        13       |
                |
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            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

It Will Get Lighter

Rain, starting

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.

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 have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.