a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

really i want the internet

idk

your feed looks like my tumblr

send your tumblr

was it worth it

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

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.

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

yeah

The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."

i dont understand magnetisation

what do you think my name is

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

i want to do that too

that looks like my instagram account

lol

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

It Will Get Lighter

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

13, H, grate

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.