this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Rain, starting

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

not their contents


She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

in a post. I want to be remembered

i want to do that too

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

It Will Get Lighter


The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.


barren land

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

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.

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

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.

...

was it worth it

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.

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

like first name

...

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

is this you as well

whats your name?

not so on: yvf(wthw)