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.

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

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

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

The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?

It Will Get Lighter

that looks like my instagram account

I Write Goodbye Letter

god being the centre magnet

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.

Style

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

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

Worse Lift

It's

dusk

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

send your tumblr

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

hiding from the rain