Thank you, Jack
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.
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
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.
so the method has to be autonomous
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
kind of mythopoesis
December 2025
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
god being the centre magnet
Lift Analysis
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
hello reader,
no i haven't really read anything
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.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 23:18:46
feel you
ahnaf abrar
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
I am below everything.
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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever