have you read

i was tempted to lie about my name

god being the centre magnet

no like which do people call me

its good

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

It Will Get Lighter

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

send your tumblr

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

13, H, grate

so at the end

autonomy of learning

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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.

all that is to say

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

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

It Will Get Lighter

we can only engage in such a way

its performative
        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |
and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

Rain, starting

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.

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

A procession forms behind the French Raj and his fireworks bearer as they head out the door. I've lost my Korean colleague / fresh meat in the chaos. I'm sure he'll be able to fend for himself. They have mandatory military service in Korea.

really i want the internet

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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

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.

and the fake qualifier