i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

i have read not even 1 book

December 2025

what do you think my name is

feel you

i want to do that too

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i was tempted to lie about my name

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

Slug

is everyoneback on tumblr now

ahnaf abrar

its good

...

i dont understand magnetisation

the site i am dreaming

plato

your feed looks like my tumblr

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

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

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She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

I Write Goodbye Letter

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

1

wait what is that

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.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

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