We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

Rain, starting

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

not their contents

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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

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

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

Thank you, Jack

i understand

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

its good

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

I am below everything.

Can I see

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

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

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

whats your name?

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

December 2025