something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

barren land

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46



2 (actually index). two is company

I am below everything.

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.

Pimlico Rats

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

1

. way too specific.

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

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

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.

        13       |
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            H   |
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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.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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.

Thank you, Jack

in a post. I want to be remembered

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

or never left

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Lift Analysis

yeah

idk


Better Lift