Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

I Write Goodbye Letter

...

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

2 (actually index). two is company

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

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.

no i haven't really read anything

i dont understand magnetisation

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

It Will Get Lighter

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

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.

no like which do people call me

yes

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

Lift Analysis

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.

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