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 can only engage in such a way
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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really i want the internet
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
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
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
division of reality is straying away from it
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
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
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.