hiding from the rain
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
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 know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
no like which do people call me
and the fake qualifier
its good short few pages
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
and the fake qualifier
plato
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
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.
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.
what do you think my name is
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
lol yea
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
i want to do that too
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
send your tumblr