hello, sweetness.

hope you had a feliz navidad.

one time i was at this music guy’s house on bow street. beside or above greens. we didn’t know each other very well, me and the music man. he taught somebody i knew, we’d met that morning in his house at the party. he was rly hung over, laying on the sofa, hair over his face to block out the light. that sort of state that can only be fixed by breakfast and sleep, but’s usually treated with buckfast back home. i was sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, back against the other couch. i reached out and plucked a few notes on his guitar that was laying there beside me. quiet suddenly, he spun around with an extremely serious expression on his face. he caught and locked my eyes, and with a kind of prosecuting tone he said “You have the funk inside you. Don’t you?”

it’s good when people say ludicrous things with a solemn tone. it happened one time this week too. though maybe in that case the solemnity was warranted because though it surface level goofy, there’s something underneath that’s truth deserving dignity.

i want to be in a biscuit tin where you’re the mouse and i’m the biscuit in the biscuit tin.

the christmas break is the longest time i’ve had off of work this year. i’ve not made the most of it, though i’ve put some music in. and also released a single called ritual. it’s on spotify, it’s on apple music too. i hope you like it. it’s good. there are two other tracks too. you’ve probably heard them before.

i have not enjoyed the christmas break so much, i am currently in a slump. not a slump as much as… idk i was really riding high for a little while there and now we’re in that pause between the build up and the pay off when everything’s all quiet. the night before the morning of the night before the morning after. it’s not my favourite part. the tension’s gone but there’s no release. everybody needs rest, and me too, but i wanna stay up all night gabbling about tomorrow. but i guess that’s how you end up getting stabbed in the heart by a girl on a horse, too sleepy.

“ugly girl” shirt and baseball cap, “ugly girl” brand 2-piece pyjama set, “ugly girl” brand socks, sneakers and wrist warmers. let me be.

this has been one of the strangest years of my life. turns out you can keep writing javascript and eventually you really will achieve salvation. it’s strange when life has such clearly demarcated chapters. in the airport in málaga that door shut, that life gone, no time to think about it ‘cause the new one’s here. from LAX to oplax. FoC to FoC. tiovivo alemán… kept from sleep; left FT. everything’s been happening, and not in sequence either. gantt chart getting taller and taller and wider and wider. you find yourself shouting “i like myself better when we are together” over the music, and in the day time you’re living in a dream. having the conversations you want to have, with the very people you’d choose to have them with if you were given the infinite option.

i’ve added an event to my calendar for march next year that says “i am in my extraordinarily late twenties.” MMXXVI is gonna be insane, though. all this stage setting. maybe there’ll be some more world war three! meanwhile… ldn, foc, rir and r&d.

I desire to have my face and hands made in wax with a piece of crimson satin thrown like a garment in a picture hair upon my head and put in a case of Mahogany with a glass before and fix’d up so near the place were my corps lyes as it can be with my name and time of Death

— sarah hare

girl, same.

waiting for the green light. heaven sent, destiny, party hard in harmony.

may your 2026 have more afk than brb.

unless you’d prefer it the other way. or another way. may it whatever you need & want in layers.

i’ve learned that people love me. i knew already that i love everybody. but i keep a space in between. when you’re talking to me, you’re talking to a proxy. LW and OR are setting themes for the year. i’ll set a theme too. maybe on nye i’ll start a fire and drink it. maybe i’ll draw 14 to 15 and let the ether/other/inner set it. read the tea leaves. but it’s together. i mean, i think. self-advocate, lead soft, unlearn futility, help 1, make art, steward/foster weird computer, call my friends friends, change the course of history. it’s together, i guess.

anyway.

good luck

$ mkdir src/entries/2026

we’re post o’clockalypse now, and it’s okay. a little muted. hard to do magic.

good ideas always seem obvious after, i’m under no illusion that it was obvious to get there. it’s like that feeling when mdma first kicks in and the clear light adjusts and you can see right through the middle of the dance floor to the other side of the room. movement is still.

i went to edinburgh this week briefly. up on wednesday, back on thursday. saw john from work and sweet as ever lily. at the same time unexpectedly. got my lip bars sized down. when i swap them out for black hoops it’s over for all these bitches.

if someone told me “i can play the bagpipes” i’d have to ask “how can you tell?”

yesterday i sat around for a while crying about patchwork. i think i’ll be crying in and about work for a little while now. it will mean good ends, but for a while it will be wet.

if that first scare had panned out they’d be thirteen next year.

let’s, you and i, film a masterpiece with a logitech quickcam express. tell no one about it, maybe throw it away.

aos
ch
rw
lvx

that sound

what is that?

is the tape clicking?

🦋 (the above on bluesky)

• watashi wa miku, miku
• oo ee oo
  • 私はミク
  • u i u
    • watashi wa miku, miku
    • ういう
      • i’m thinking miku, miku
      • oo eee oo
      • ∩ω∩

🦋 (the moon on bluesky)

it feels nice; like a coffee shop in the winter just before it closes. does it come back around? how? when? i can wait

ok

oh i almost forgot. the second softer software society social took place on tuesday and it was extremely special. it had big “we were there” energy. as though some day i’ll look back on it and say to myself “oh it was so obvious what was coming next” whatever that is.

talking about whatever that is:

• mimi and me and lu are putting on some foc events next year.
  • subscribe to the calendar.
• the first will be jan 22nd.
  • it’s fully booked now, but join the waitlist
• and/or come and demo something weird you did to the computer.
  • if you’re not sure it fits, it definitely does.
    • if you think nobody other than you would care, it’s perfect.
      • submit, submit, submit.

one of the worst photos of me taken in some time is now out in the world being seen so many times. it’s okay. i’ll recover.

i have to make some music now, and draw some pictures of rabbits on pieces of paper. i’m lucky enough to be having dinner with becky avery tomorrow. what did i do to deserve this?

and then it will be christmas. it seems like so long since i didn’t cook christmas dinner for someone. but i guess it was really only a few years ago, when i made the pozole. ritual is out next week too. you can presave it on spotify here: https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/quietparty/ritual

i’ll start working on being there for hopefully a release along with fountayne and a few others early next year. i have a todo item in my notebook “unlearn the lessons of futility”. at the newspaper i learned to give up quickly and easily, because there was never any point fighting with anyone, because it would just go some inevitable way coming down from some powerful somewhere. and nobody would ever say that directly, it was always hidden behind words that made it sound like we were having a conversation. i had to learn that “i think” means something like “you shall”. any softness of language was an illusion. conflict avoidance. in reality there was no negotiation, no wiggle room. i have to unlearn that now, along with many of the other ways i learned to behave in order to be suitable for that environment. a different person is called for now. becoming this person will be a somewhat excruciatingly painful process.

but. in the meantime we shall christmas. linda mccartney roasts for everyone. and a large fish.

howdy daddy

i’m sitting on a train. i’ve just left cafe pacifico. someone outside charing cross said so much London in one sentence, maybe it was part of some kind of practical exam? “Oi! Hello! Hang on! It’s a bloody green man, isn’t it? You fucking cunt.”

well? hows u wee chick? hows tricks? u keepin well? aye. aye, same as me.

awk, poor wee thing you must’ve been scundered. ay, pobrecita.

what happened this week? i have the physical sensation inside me like i’ve been drinking litres of autumn and winter every morning. in a good way. on tuesday i spent an hour and a half with one of my favourite people to spend time with. on-line from far away. it felt like drinking litres and litres of autumn and winter. in a good way. the next day i attended an algorave and saw some other of my favourite people. and i drank litres and litres of autumn and winter in particular. and there were moments. and also there was an owl. and it’s important, something. in particular. i can almost feel the shape of it. but not quite. until then it’s just carry on. follow magic. do what must be done. alley oop.

i did a coup this week. and i am being supported by the military. now there is a coalition. it will be beneficial for all. overlords, benefactors, guides, stewards. it all looks the same from up here at the top.

as such, we are connected briefly in time to week 30 of the year, many several things that happened then are echoes now. louder now, in fact. echoes of now? reverberates in reverse? who knows how time loops, loop echoes, magic and alchemistry/god/wizards work. anyway, take this down your copybooks and draw the line. given enough metadata we can take Time down once and for all.

X X can no longer help you recover your account if you forget your password. to avoid losing access to your account, add a different recovery contact.

i’ve dyed my hair this weekend. bleached and dyed. and i’ve doused myself in the cheapest, pinkest Versace perfume. it good. a clear demarcation. there was that, now there’s this. ladybug on the wrist. breathing’s uneven, my body is slimmer. it’s a good day. more honest. cuter and more obviously unbearable.

i’ve sent 3 half finished tracks to Spotify etc for a Christmas Eve release called ritual.

i will post a link next week.

talking about next week, it’s a big one.

• maybe monyay
• softer software society social
• train to edinburgh, piercing change
• see jm, ls, back on the train to london
• some time during this close every remaining ticket

the oath was this time 2022. después de mexico en el verano, mucho después de sentimentos tontos en febrero. then there was the silence. then there was july, railway, party, boom, egodeath, radio, magnets, the second helping of sentimentos peligrosamente tontos. and then, what? a chance, i guess. a pause, in effect. but what if it unfolds in reverse? will i be skilled/chilled enough to chop hop at first goof? or, shards of glass. amour de soi. maybe it’s easy now, wee buns. no sweat, wee buns. sweet to the beat las vegas.

over and over, it’s something in the winter, going over the past over and over. i’ve been reading through the export of all my old tweets. i sure tweeted a lot about being a girl in 2011. i feel so sorry for this little baby rabbit girl. confused and closeted queer full of wild love and energy, who does not know what it means and can’t control it and is afraid to be honest and loves people and is scared of pain and is thrashing out at everything when it threatens to be good or peaceful or holy. drawn to chaos. and drawing darkness because it is dark. she somehow knows and doesn’t know. she is going to be in so much pain for such a long time. and just needs a little tiny bit of information.

at 11 applying for the all-girls school. at 14 pigtails on msn. at 15 birthday cards for parents “from your loving daughter”. at 17 veet all the hair off tell everyone “feels like a dolphin”. 19 emily, sometimes. “chee doesn’t count”. “later, when the boys come over”. never asking why, or why it felt good why it was right. exception. county kerry, rona, climbing into my tent with a rimmel kohl. there’s a decade left before any of that makes any sense, and it is going to hurt. poor thing. pobrecita.

one time, trying to lift my spirits, someone described me as “a niche fuck”.

ok x c u bb

p.s. hello to lex if you’re still here