"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Today I felt like starting

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

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

hiding from the rain

the site i am dreaming

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

isaac

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

as in

god being the centre magnet

ahnaf abrar

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

i love it here

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

we need to be deconstructing our identities

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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

"Put a blanket."

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

you have a beautiful account btw

sorry i am texting like a slav

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.


thank you


i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

you cannot feed someone truth

There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

is this you as well

not their contents

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

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