barren land
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.
or never left
have you read
A procession forms behind the French Raj and his fireworks bearer as they head out the door. I've lost my Korean colleague / fresh meat in the chaos. I'm sure he'll be able to fend for himself. They have mandatory military service in Korea.
But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.
fw
As we're stood there I notice a middle-aged woman staring at us across the room. I'm trying to catch her gaze, but its kind of vacant. I guess she sees me looking and considers it to be an invitation. She floats over to us in this strange dazed way, and on the approach I realise she's staring at (through?) my Korean colleague / fresh meat. She's saying wow, wow, wow. She seems genuinely so delighted, so shocked, so elated.
Her English is poor but she manages a brief introduction before getting to the point. She asks if she can touch his face. She's already reaching out and gesturing at it. Koreans are way too polite, he's just laughing awkwardly. I put my hand kind of between them and wave it to try and indicate no to her. I'm still in fucking mime mode. I say no, but it's not really to her, or to him, just no, in general. This is all too weird. Dejected, she departs with a comment about having never seen someone like him before.
lol
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
feel you
Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.
sorry i am texting like a slav
like magnets
isaac
as in
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
its good
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch