i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

brb i will read and reply sincerely

so at the end

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

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.

division of reality is straying away from it

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

really i want the internet

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.

It's

dusk

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.

Worse Lift

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59