It Will Get Lighter

brb i will read and reply sincerely

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

After I get away from the old racist failed actor, I go to see my Korean colleague. He's just arrived in London and I want to see how he's handling the party. We'd been invited as fresh meat for some of the older, gayer attendees. We aren't aware of that.

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.

...

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

13, H, grate

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

its good short few pages

Maybe, Jack, I'm doing this because I'm English?

Can I see

plato

is this you as well

much more tactility

division of reality is straying away from it

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

It Will Get Lighter

your feed looks like my tumblr

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.

you have a beautiful account btw