I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

you have a beautiful account btw

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

It's

dusk

13, H, grate

i see a website

Rain, starting

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

yes

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

kind of mythopoesis

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

as in

but i respect your search

Lift Analysis

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

Thank you, Jack

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.

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

magnetisation/form