what do you think my name is
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.
sorry i am texting like a slav
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
bro i read nothing in my life
bro i read nothing in my life
lol
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
that looks like my instagram account
or never left
...
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
i want to do that too
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
your feed looks like my tumblr
god being the centre magnet
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you