"Put a blanket."

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

whats your name?

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

its performative

division of reality is straying away from it

Lift Analysis

all that is to say

...


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

which magnetises chains of pins

autonomy of learning

magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you

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

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

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.

magnetises a pin

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

yeah

It Will Get Lighter

13, H, grate

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

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

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

thank you

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now