I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

Rain, starting

plato

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

and the fake qualifier

But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

It Will Get Lighter

division of reality is straying away from it

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.

...

like magnets

yeah

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

its good short few pages

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.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

idk

I am below everything.


And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"