and the fake qualifier

no i haven't really read anything

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

i have read not even 1 book

ion

we need to be deconstructing our identities

like magnets

or never left

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

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

wait what is that

whats your name?

feel you

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

the site i am dreaming

...

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

December 2025

...

its good

is everyoneback on tumblr now

isaac

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

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

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.

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.

what do you mean

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.

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.