It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

i love it here

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.

division of reality is straying away from it

plato

ahnaf abrar

propensity within someone

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

bro i read nothing in my life

as in

lol yea

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

its good

i really havent

was it worth it

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

what do you mean

its performative

hello reader,

"Put a blanket."

was it worth it

you cannot feed someone truth

what do you think my name is

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.