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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.
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.
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
its good
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
isaac
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
in a post. I want to be remembered
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos