The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
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.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
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
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.
and the fake qualifier
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.i dont understand magnetisation
i really havent
brb i will read and reply sincerely
its performative
Better Lift
hello reader,