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

what do you mean

its good

feel you

god being the centre magnet

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

i want to do that too

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

plato

was it worth it

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

wait what is that

thank you

i dont understand magnetisation

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

magnetises a pin

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

its good

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

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.

i was tempted to lie about my name

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

...

and the fake qualifier

We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes. The conversation drifts to the pleasantness of warm lighting and whether anyone needs a smart home. I interrupt her to make a joke about the French Raj as he runs up the causeway. We stand there laughing. The fireworks go off behind him.

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.

It Will Get Lighter

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