fw

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Rain, starting

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

"Put a blanket."

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

have you read

lol yea

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

plato

idk

i dont understand magnetisation

its good

I am below everything.

in a post. I want to be remembered

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

no i haven't really read anything

is everyoneback on tumblr now

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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."

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.