"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
the site i am dreaming
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
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.
...
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
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.
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
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.
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.
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
i really havent
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
but i respect your search
was it worth it
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.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
really i want the internet
...
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.