Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
i see a website
division of reality is straying away from it
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
I am below everything.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
ion
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.
all that is to say