my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

Rain, starting

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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.

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

I am below everything.

which magnetises chains of pins

i understand

that looks like my instagram account

whats your name?

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

ion

lol yea

like magnets

send your tumblr

isaac newton

idk

lol

in a post. I want to be remembered

fw

is everyoneback on tumblr now

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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.

your feed looks like my tumblr

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

its good