okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

I am below everything.

i really havent


bro i read nothing in my life

that looks like my instagram account


abrar?

the site i am dreaming

i want to do that too

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

i have read not even 1 book

i was tempted to lie about my name

lol

what do you mean

your feed looks like my tumblr

lol yea

is everyoneback on tumblr now

barren land

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

ahnaf abrar

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

have you read

yeah

wait what is that

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

and the fake qualifier

plato

fw

like first name

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

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

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.


ion

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch