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.
and the fake qualifier
bro i read nothing in my life
...
i really havent
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
...
feel you
what do you think my name is
no i haven't really read anything
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
send your tumblr
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
i want to do that too
whats your name?
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
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.
in a post. I want to be remembered
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.