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

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

1

currently

Worse Lift

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

so an active mazelike process

Rain, starting

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

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.

as in

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

Pimlico Rats

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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.

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41