December 2025

and the fake qualifier

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

the site i am dreaming

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

magnetises a pin

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Thank you, Jack

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

like first name

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them