Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

It Will Get Lighter

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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Better Lift

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

13, H, grate

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

no longer writing in the third person

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

its good

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

bro i read nothing in my life

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.

really i want the internet

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.

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

you know who you are. no more time, not like

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i am quite illiterate on producing technology

i want to do that too