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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
you have a beautiful account btw
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
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
really i want the internet
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
no longer writing in the third person
not their contents