all that is to say
it is hopeful
its performative
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
you cannot feed someone truth
but i respect your search
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
really i want the internet
...
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
you have a beautiful account btw
hello reader,
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.
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
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.
propensity within someone
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate