you cannot feed someone truth

It Will Get Lighter

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

so at the end

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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.

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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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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

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

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Thank you, Jack, for telling me I'm just as bad as the characters (actually they're people, if that means anything to you) that I'm writing about.

division of reality is straying away from it