i am quite illiterate on producing technology
my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
really i want the internet
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.magnetisation/form
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
no longer writing in the third person
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
much more tactility
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.
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
hiding from the rain
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.
He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.
but i respect your search
whats your name?
magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you
send your tumblr
division of reality is straying away from it