so the method has to be autonomous

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 was tempted to lie about my name

wait what is that

what do you think my name is

...

its good

its good

yeah

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

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

idk

i really havent

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

which magnetises chains of pins

lol

ion

really i want the internet

sorry i am texting like a slav

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is this you as well

Thank you, Jack

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

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.

feel you

but i respect your search

the site i am dreaming

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.

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

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

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