yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
propensity within someone
"Put a blanket."
brb i will read and reply sincerely
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
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
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
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Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
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.
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.
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.
so at the end
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
yeah