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.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

1

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.

Today I felt like starting

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

hiding from the rain

the site i am dreaming

and the fake qualifier

we need to be deconstructing our identities

sorry i am texting like a slav

is this you as well

Picture

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.

abrar?

Rain, starting

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.

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.

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

what do you think my name is