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Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?
bro i read nothing in my life
god being the centre magnet
i was tempted to lie about my name
feel you
its good
Thank you, Jack
i dont understand magnetisation
not so on: yvf(wthw)
hello reader,
It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
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
was it worth it
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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.
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
magnetisation/form
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
bro i read nothing in my life
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
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.
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.