Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."
barren land
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.
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.
A procession forms behind the French Raj and his fireworks bearer as they head out the door. I've lost my Korean colleague / fresh meat in the chaos. I'm sure he'll be able to fend for himself. They have mandatory military service in Korea.
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"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
was it worth it
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
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.
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
it is hopeful