Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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

IWGD

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

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

Picture

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

yeah

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

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.

fw

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

idk

what do you think my name is

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.

like first name

and the fake qualifier

i have read not even 1 book

Rain, starting

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

the site i am dreaming

no longer writing in the third person

that looks like my instagram account

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

not their contents

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.