We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
no longer writing in the third person
Better Lift
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
hiding from the rain
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
in a post. I want to be remembered
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
...
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03