sorry i am texting like a slav

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.

December 2025

i really havent

your feed looks like my tumblr

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

i want to do that too

we need to be deconstructing our identities

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

i was tempted to lie about my name

yeah

send your tumblr

i dont understand magnetisation

lol

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

like magnets

have you read

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

no like which do people call me

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.

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

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.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41