so at the end


IWGD



it is hopeful

Better Lift

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

Style

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

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

plato

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Thank you, Jack

sorry i am texting like a slav

plato

...

isaac newton


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.

your feed looks like my tumblr

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?


god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

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

that looks like my instagram account

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.