your feed looks like my tumblr

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.

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

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.

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

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.

...

not so on: yvf(wthw)

what do you mean

which magnetises chains of pins

so the method has to be autonomous

its good

but i respect your search

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

this will be about a slug

Better Lift

Lift Analysis

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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

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.

you have a beautiful account btw

thank you

plato