it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

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.

i really havent

...

not so on: yvf(wthw)

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

we can only engage in such a way

we need to be deconstructing our identities

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

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

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.

barren land

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

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.

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

It's

dusk

13, H, grate

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

isaac

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

But seriously, thank you, Jack

no like which do people call me

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

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

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.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

It Will Get Lighter