We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

and the fake qualifier

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

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

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

ahnaf abrar

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?

hello reader,

magnetises a pin

kind of mythopoesis

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

1

i really havent

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.

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

that looks like my instagram account

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.

your feed looks like my tumblr

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.

is everyoneback on tumblr now

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

send your tumblr

autonomy of learning

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

lol yea

I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.

we can only engage in such a way