but really the thing should be autonomous
send link
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
wait what is that
...
like first name
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
i really havent
and the fake qualifier
we need to be deconstructing our identities
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
and the fake qualifier
no like which do people call me
December 2025
not so on: yvf(wthw)
Thank you, Jack
so at the end
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
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, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
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.
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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.