Slug

is everyoneback on tumblr now

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

feel you

we need to be deconstructing our identities

sorry i am texting like a slav

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

Her English is poor but she manages a brief introduction before getting to the point. She asks if she can touch his face. She's already reaching out and gesturing at it. Koreans are way too polite, he's just laughing awkwardly. I put my hand kind of between them and wave it to try and indicate no to her. I'm still in fucking mime mode. I say no, but it's not really to her, or to him, just no, in general. This is all too weird. Dejected, she departs with a comment about having never seen someone like him before.


bro i read nothing in my life

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?

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

isaac


The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

what do you think my name is

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about 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.

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

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

not so on: yvf(wthw)

hello reader,

barren land