Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
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.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
...
god being the centre magnet
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
i understand
its performative
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
its good
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
no longer writing in the third person
no like which do people call me
isaac newton
no i haven't really read anything