lol
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
what do you think my name is
its good
sorry i am texting like a slav
is everyoneback on tumblr now
ahnaf abrar
It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.
whats your name?
really i want the internet
no longer writing in the third person
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
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
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
hiding from the rain
as in
we need to be deconstructing our identities
ion
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.