sorry i am texting like a slav
Today I felt like starting
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
send link
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
i was tempted to lie about my name
its good
abrar?
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
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.
which magnetises chains of pins
barren land