i love it here

Lift Analysis

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

It Will Get Lighter

in a post. I want to be remembered

13, H, grate

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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


I Write Goodbye Letter


kind of mythopoesis

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression


...


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.

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

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.


Rain, starting

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

Thank you, Jack

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.