this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

really i want the internet

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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

or never left

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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

thank you

that looks like my instagram account

god being the centre magnet

isaac

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

which magnetises chains of pins

i have read not even 1 book

i love it here

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

its good

lol yea

isaac newton


like magnets

in a post. I want to be remembered

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

whats your name?

your feed looks like my tumblr

no longer writing in the third person

brb i will read and reply sincerely


Picture

barren land

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

is everyoneback on tumblr now

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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.

plato

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?