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.
yeah
like first name
the site i am dreaming
i was tempted to lie about my name
i really havent
thank you
was it worth it
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
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
i have read not even 1 book
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.
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
was it worth it
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
isaac
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt