Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

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

but really the thing should be autonomous

Thank you, Jack

Lift Analysis

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

magnetisation/form

much more tactility

Style

It Will Get Lighter

no longer writing in the third person

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.