sorry i am texting like a slav
yeah
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.
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.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
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.
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
i understand
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.
magnetises a pin
its good short few pages
what do you mean
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
which magnetises chains of pins
so at the end
Lift Analysis
yes
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
the site i am dreaming
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
is this you as well
magnetisation/form
"Put a blanket."
plato
whats your name?