ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

13, H, grate

"Put a blanket."

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

in a post. I want to be remembered

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

1

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

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

the site i am dreaming

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

Thank you, Jack

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

It Will Get Lighter

Thank you, Jack

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

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

Can I see

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

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.

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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 old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.