and the fake qualifier
December 2025
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
Thank you, Jack
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
I am below everything.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Lift Analysis
He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
its good
magnetisation/form