Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl 


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this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

as in

Rain, starting

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Better Lift

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

i was tempted to lie about my name

abrar?

you have a beautiful account btw

Worse Lift

we need to be deconstructing our identities

and the fake qualifier

i really havent

i really havent

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

i want to do that too

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

no longer writing in the third person

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

bro i read nothing in my life

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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.

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.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

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.