Rain, starting

i understand

I Write Goodbye Letter


confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

its good

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

i dont understand magnetisation

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

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.

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

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.



with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

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.



theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

isaac newton

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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.

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

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

I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

Lift Analysis

god being the centre magnet

autonomy of learning