i was tempted to lie about my name
hello reader,
send your tumblr
or never left
sorry i am texting like a slav
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.that looks like my instagram account
your feed looks like my tumblr
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
its good
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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.
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.
so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities
yeah
Better Lift
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
yeah
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.
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?