really i want the internet

Thank you, Jack

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

so an active mazelike process

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.

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

It Will Get Lighter

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

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

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

what do you think my name is

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

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.

As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

you cannot feed someone truth

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.

isaac newton

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

your feed looks like my tumblr