you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

I Write Goodbye Letter

...

2 (actually index). two is company

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

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.

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

is everyoneback on tumblr now

ahnaf is it worth reading all those books

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.

i really havent

Thank you, Jack

isaac

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

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.

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