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

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

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.

Lift Analysis

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

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

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

we can only engage in such a way

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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.

1

"Put a blanket."

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

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.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

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