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'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.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
"Put a blanket."
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
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.
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
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.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
but really the thing should be autonomous
isaac
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
no i haven't really read anything