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.
ion
i really havent
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
which magnetises chains of pins
send your tumblr
isaac
was it worth it
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
not so on: yvf(wthw)
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.
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
was it worth it
like magnets
⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️
no like which do people call me
abrar?
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.
what do you think my name is
kind of mythopoesis
Lift Analysis
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
hiding from the rain
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything