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.
not their contents
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
ahnaf abrar
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
i love it here
no longer writing in the third person
My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.
send link
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
no i haven't really read anything
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
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
we need to be deconstructing our identities
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
whats your name?
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
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."
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
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
god being the centre magnet