kind of mythopoesis

not so on: yvf(wthw)

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

It Will Get Lighter

autonomy of learning

It Will Get Lighter

Thank you, Jack, for telling me I'm just as bad as the characters (actually they're people, if that means anything to you) that I'm writing about.

so the method has to be autonomous

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

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

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

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

Better Lift

It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.

so an active mazelike process

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

1

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

ahnaf abrar