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.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

idk

plato

no like which do people call me

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

is everyoneback on tumblr now

what do you think my name is

barren land

i have read not even 1 book

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

we need to be deconstructing our identities

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

send your tumblr

i really havent

Thank you, Jack

Pimlico Rats

feel you

yeah

i want to do that too

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 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

thank you

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.

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

Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

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.

Rain, starting

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

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