sorry i am texting like a slav

thank you

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

i love it here

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

the site i am dreaming

no like which do people call me

i was tempted to lie about my name

idk

yeah

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

what do you think my name is

i want to do that too

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

your feed looks like my tumblr

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.

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.

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

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

Thank you, Jack

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

what do you mean

hello reader,

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

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.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

plato