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.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
yeah
Thank you, Jack
have you read
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
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
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
Lift Analysis
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
plato
hello reader,
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
send link
kind of mythopoesis
lol
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.