...
or never left
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
which magnetises chains of pins
sorry i am texting like a slav
the site i am dreaming
was it worth it
no i haven't really read anything
i have read not even 1 book
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
yeah
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
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.
Today I felt like starting
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.
you cannot feed someone truth
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
currently
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.
hiding from the rain