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.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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.

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.

Thank you, Jack

as in

was it worth it

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

god being the centre magnet

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.

...

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

its good short few pages

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

i was tempted to lie about my name

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

abrar?

Better Lift

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

autonomy of learning

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

is everyoneback on tumblr now