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.
no i haven't really read anything
its good
was it worth it
send your tumblr
and the fake qualifier
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
ahnaf abrar
barren land
what do you mean
i want to do that too
we need to be deconstructing our identities
but really the thing should be autonomous
feel you
magnetises a pin
which magnetises chains of pins
and the fake qualifier
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
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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.
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
i see a website
magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you
yeah
Her English is poor but she manages a brief introduction before getting to the point. She asks if she can touch his face. She's already reaching out and gesturing at it. Koreans are way too polite, he's just laughing awkwardly. I put my hand kind of between them and wave it to try and indicate no to her. I'm still in fucking mime mode. I say no, but it's not really to her, or to him, just no, in general. This is all too weird. Dejected, she departs with a comment about having never seen someone like him before.