we can only engage in such a way

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

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

        13       |
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            H   |
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something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

lol yea

bro i read nothing in my life

isaac

no i haven't really read anything

god being the centre magnet
and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

yeah

December 2025

like first name

i love it here

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.

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

13, H, grate

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

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.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

It Will Get Lighter