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.
plato
idk
your feed looks like my tumblr
or never left
is everyoneback on tumblr now
fw
After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
send your tumblr
lol
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
which magnetises chains of pins
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
magnetises a pin
lol yea
yeah
i dont understand magnetisation
its good
is this you as well
and the fake qualifier
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
and the fake qualifier
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.