I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.

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

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

I Write Goodbye Letter

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

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.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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

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.

that looks like my instagram account

Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

is everyoneback on tumblr now

send link

really i want the internet

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

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

propensity within someone

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

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

in a post. I want to be remembered

bro i read nothing in my life

you have a beautiful account btw

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book