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.
have you read
But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.
its good
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
...
December 2025
not so on: yvf(wthw)
i dont understand magnetisation
bro i read nothing in my life
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
yeah
magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Thank you, Jack
it is hopeful
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"