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.

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

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

Today I felt like starting

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.

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

you cannot feed someone truth

what do you think my name is

all that is to say

not their contents

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

its performative

"Put a blanket."

we need to be deconstructing our identities

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Thank you, Jack

i want to do that too

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

and the fake qualifier