After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.
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.
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.
lol yea
feel you
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
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.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
was it worth it
Thank you, Jack
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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i love it here
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
and the fake qualifier
it is hopeful