I am below everything.

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

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

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

IWGD

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

division of reality is straying away from it

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.


Better Lift

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.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.


I Write Goodbye Letter

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

as in

not so on: yvf(wthw)

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

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

was it worth it

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

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.


magnetisation/form

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

idk

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59