bro i read nothing in my life

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

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

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

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

division of reality is straying away from it

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

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

much more tactility

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

barren land

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

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

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.

not so on: yvf(wthw)

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

...

no longer writing in the third person

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

1

. way too specific.