wait what is that
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.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.
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.
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.
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.
its good
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
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 sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
i want to do that too
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
send link
its good
the site i am dreaming
magnetises a pin
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
send your tumblr