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.

whats your name?

like magnets

plato

its good

ahnaf abrar

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

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

I am below everything.

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

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

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

It's

dusk

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

its good short few pages

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

I Write Goodbye Letter

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Slug

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Style