your feed looks like my tumblr

propensity within someone

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

you cannot feed someone truth

"Put a blanket."

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.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Rain, starting

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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

Better Lift

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

It Will Get Lighter

but really the thing should be autonomous

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

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

its performative

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

bro i read nothing in my life

feel you

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'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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.