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.

Better Lift

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Picture

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Style

13, H, grate

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

Today I felt like starting

It's

dusk

currently

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

no longer writing in the third person

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

it is hopeful

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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

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.

"Put a blanket."

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Worse Lift

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