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've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

Better Lift

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

you cannot feed someone truth

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

Lift Analysis

Thank you, Jack

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

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.

It Will Get Lighter

2 (actually index). two is company

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

and the fake qualifier

I Write Goodbye Letter

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

so an active mazelike process

hello reader,

feel you

that looks like my instagram account

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?