with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

as in

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.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

Worse Lift

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

IWGD

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

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

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

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying


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

Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.

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.