Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
hiding from the rain
Today I felt like starting
I am below everything.
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl
yes
was it worth it
but i respect your search
i was tempted to lie about my name
i have read not even 1 book
so at the end
magnetises a pin
have you read
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books