Today I felt like starting

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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.

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

I Write Goodbye Letter

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

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

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.