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
i was tempted to lie about my name
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
feel you
ahnaf abrar
your feed looks like my tumblr
lol
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
what do you think my name is
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
sorry i am texting like a slav
its good
...
we need to be deconstructing our identities
thank you
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
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.
is this you as well
and the fake qualifier
...
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
i want to do that too
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.
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.