I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

It Will Get Lighter

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

ion

your feed looks like my tumblr

lol yea

is everyoneback on tumblr now

send your tumblr

that looks like my instagram account

its good

yeah

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

bro i read nothing in my life

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i love it here

like first name

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

plato

was it worth it

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.

Thank you, Jack

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.

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

isaac

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

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

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

wait what is that

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.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter