really i want the internet
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
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
fw
was it worth it
we need to be deconstructing our identities
plato
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
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.
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.
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls