I Write Goodbye Letter

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

its good

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

plato

have you read

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

your feed looks like my tumblr

is everyoneback on tumblr now

Thank you, Jack

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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

but i respect your search

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.

send link

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.

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

2 (actually index). two is company

we need to be deconstructing our identities

        13       |
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            H   |
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I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.