13, H, grate

and the fake qualifier

abrar?

plato

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.

its good

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

Pimlico Rats

brb i will read and reply sincerely

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.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

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.

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

i really havent

Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.


nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

...

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

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

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.

hiding from the rain

like magnets




Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression


to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

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.

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

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

its good