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not their contents

so at the end

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

kind of mythopoesis

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

It Will Get Lighter

It Will Get Lighter

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

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?

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 see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.


Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

we can only engage in such a way

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.


i love it here

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.

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.


bro i read nothing in my life

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

plato

idk

i have read not even 1 book

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

i dont understand magnetisation