your feed looks like my tumblr
After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
what do you think my name is
that looks like my instagram account
bro i read nothing in my life
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
which magnetises chains of pins
yeah
was it worth it
magnetises a pin
i really havent
god being the centre magnet
like first name
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
i understand
i dont understand magnetisation
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
i was tempted to lie about my name
no i haven't really read anything
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
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
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
bro i read nothing in my life
so the method has to be autonomous
a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.