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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
it is hopeful
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
Thank you, Jack
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
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 know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
hiding from the rain
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Today I felt like starting
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.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
in a post. I want to be remembered