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.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
hiding from the rain
so an active mazelike process
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
was it worth it
like first name
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
so the method has to be autonomous
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
which magnetises chains of pins
whats your name?
He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
barren land
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
Better Lift
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.