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.
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
autonomy of learning
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.
so the method has to be autonomous
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
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
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
division of reality is straying away from it
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.i love it here
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.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
yeah
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
fw
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
...
i am quite illiterate on producing technology