hello reader,
...
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
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.
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
i see a website
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.
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
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.
brb i will read and reply sincerely
plato
you cannot feed someone truth
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
autonomy of learning
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
i understand
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
god being the centre magnet