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.

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.

whats your name?

its performative

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

god being the centre magnet

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

what do you mean

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

1

or never left

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.

idk

currently

lol yea

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

your feed looks like my tumblr

division of reality is straying away from it

so the method has to be autonomous

its good short few pages

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.

no longer writing in the third person

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.