13, H, grate

what do you think my name is

in a post. I want to be remembered

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

ahnaf abrar

i see a website

bro i read nothing in my life

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

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.


idk

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

It Will Get Lighter

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

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.


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.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

It Will Get Lighter

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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