We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

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

hiding from the rain

currently

Worse Lift

Style

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

really i want the internet

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

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

all that is to say

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

division of reality is straying away from it

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

Lift Analysis

Better Lift

in a post. I want to be remembered

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

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

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46