Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

I am below everything.

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

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.

barren land

its good short few pages

part of an old note. It will get lighter.
this will be about a slug

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

December 2025

your feed looks like my tumblr

that looks like my instagram account

thank you

i was tempted to lie about my name

i want to do that too

like magnets

its good

i have read not even 1 book

its good


isaac

feel you

send your tumblr

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.

I Write Goodbye Letter

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

As we're stood there I notice a middle-aged woman staring at us across the room. I'm trying to catch her gaze, but its kind of vacant. I guess she sees me looking and considers it to be an invitation. She floats over to us in this strange dazed way, and on the approach I realise she's staring at (through?) my Korean colleague / fresh meat. She's saying wow, wow, wow. She seems genuinely so delighted, so shocked, so elated.


and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.


like first name