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.

magnetises a pin

i have read not even 1 book

ion

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

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

so magnetisation means the divine spirit acting thru u endowing you with its qualities

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

the site i am dreaming

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

was it worth it

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

thank you

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

wait what is that

magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you

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

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.

plato

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.

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.

brb i will read and reply sincerely

really i want the internet

your feed looks like my tumblr

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