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
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
so at the end
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
in a post. I want to be remembered
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
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
"Put a blanket."
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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.
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.
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.