+I'm going to Paris+
+L.R. and I study the blue pollen on the pavement.+
We're all freiends here, right?+
+A naked child giggles, chasing a dog down the street. Barefoot. The mother behind, screaming.+
+U.R. is sincere-maxxing on his third poem. Outside, an older man insists he’s an anti-racist activist. I shrug and circle the crowd. The George Tavern smoking area is great. Someone takes a photo of me without asking. A kid’s writing a poem in the toilet. It’s too hot to dance.+
+I'm on the District line with the transhumanist to DQP. Life's going his way.+
+I limed swagfully to the Tate Birthday weekender. After the screening, it's a lightning round of intros in Turbine Hall then we split up. I head off to the pub to catch the rest of the Sun, plus one half pint and two shots of Baileys that I share witht he Transhumanist. I convince our group of 7 to head to the Blackfriars beach below and a debate takes place between an AI regulator and the transhumanist who is using brain emulation to explore creating digital models of the brain that can replace the core of the brain. The transhumanist wants to live forever, the regulator is concerned about bad actors. It's a good conversation but I can't help but be carried away from my job as mediator to watch two bros fist bump as they piss in the pilings of the pier. Afterwards, we head to Leon for a snack. All the food is finished aside from sides, it's completely empty yet they only want to take our orders from the iPad. The waiter doesn't understand what I'm saying. And rejectedly, I order kimchi, chips and a cookie from the iPad.+
+Whatever, whatever, whatevre, I don't care. Drinking raw milk in Primrose Hill with Ryvita and paté made from mushrooms. It's so warm now, I had to take my top off to let the sun come in+
+Mascara Bar. Three Irish guys. One old friend, Jonathan, who's mom passed. And me, dancing to the jukebox.+
+This last espresso could change everything+
+I’m becoming a professional at nothing. In the bathroom on the 8th floor of this office, I am reading a book and pretending to shit after already having shat. Twenty minutes ago, I rounded off on my 2 hour break, consisting of duck on rice and sitting down on the deck chairs outside the office, sunbathing and wearing my aviators, £7 haggled to £6 on Depop, then watching the guys in vests run with their bags from one meeting to the next. It pays to have friends - reads the sign board across from me. The book is a book about writing. The water in the bathroom comes out in spurts, only after I touch the sensor with my index finger.+
+I start therapy again tomorrow+
+I ordered a ghost pizza last night. It was already 2 something am, past the point of no return, watching a documentary by Mark Fisher, sprawled out on the sofa. I had flipped a coin already but went against it. It's to curse the heavens to go against a coin flip. When I awoke, it was 4am, I opened my laptop - my phone was dead - and I ran to the gate. The pizza was gone. The Sun had already started to come up.+
+We're shooting a movie in NYC in July. Meeting with Z.R.G and the two cameras. I miss New York.+
+Old Coffee House for S.J.P.'s birthday. She's 25 and doesn't look like her sisters. I'm having soda and lime because I'm thinking about how it was to be fat, however I am thirsting for another drink. We talk about a lot of things but I can't remember. All the words are jumbling in my head and I swear I can't think past not finishing the 20 minute cardio this morning. The guy at the bar can't understand me and I don't understand him either.+
+Je ne regrette rien or whatever+
+I Limed swaglessly from Kentish Town to St James. to see M.D and I.Y at the ICA. I was supposed to get tickets for the Open City Documentary Festival. I'm already a bit late but still manage to order two lemonades, advertised as fresh, but are both canned and cost £6. I.Y wants to make a video for W.I. It's cool. So we head off into Central after, there's a reading at Ginny on Frederick I don't go to, I.Y. decides to walk it to Café Kick, I refuse to call it Kick, then wander about for a bit. I purchase a Singaporean curry puff and chocolates from Neuhaus. Though the shopkeepers are nice, I regret buying both. I leave.+
+I asked to take a photo of this older black lady wearing an Evangelion t-shirt and she ran away from me+
+I saw you in Exmouth Market, and my rage was so full, all I could do was ignore your irregular heartbeat and your half-empty drink and how your pupils trained themselves on my gait and in my head, I wished you nothing.+
+The taxi driver back home was Polish. He was pretty curt and luckily, it's hard to build preconcieved notions of people in London. I love Polish people. He pretended not to hear me when I asked to change it to Classic FM because it plays the most music with the fewest ads on the radio and is most calming after a late night of elbow grease. Instead, he is on BBC Radio 1, which is fine because they're playing Avicii. I love Avicii.+
+Only in dreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaamz+
+Reading a book that's bad for me on the train. Guy across from me keeps looking at me. Can't be about the book, right? I look back up from teh page and he shakes his head and points his eyes to the cover. I shrug.+
+Our meeting didn't mean anything.+
+I did not want to go for the dinner at the co-op. However, I ended up there and it was pretty sweet. Everyone there is pretty attractive with taut skin and strong knees and a romantic bohemia around them. Although I can see when they check their torsos in the mirror or when we end up re-referencing European leisurely hikes, I feel a sense of peace with them, where I can be myself. When I get home, I make a resolve to meditate more+
+Building socialtech is hard in 2025 because one of your co-founders could ghost you+
+Bank holiday Monday, T-Dawg and I meet in Tottenham. It's really pretty here, it's the urban that's just right with Columbian cafés and jamaican bakeries and only disturbed by the snaking massive road. When we cycle back from Walthamstow Wetlands to Dalston, the city looks deserving and beautiful for our entrance. I'm thinking about the water lillies and the aquaphibian population occupying the Lea and the Orthodox Jews as they pop up more into frame, dotting from West African to Orthodox Jew to White. I'm on the Dasher, which is feeling less like a Dasher. The bike has caused me pains, and my ass hurts sitting on it. I can never love it like I love my single speed. Thank God for the Sun.+
+We're between two panes of glass. I'll kiss you from the window.+
+When I asked for your number, I deleted it. The memory won’t overwrite.+
+I'm having five drinks today. Coffee from my Moka pot with ground beans from a targeted ad from YouTube, water in a San Pellegrino bottle from the flouride filter, pennywort, 100% mulberry juice and Wong Lo Kat (王老吉) from a corner shop from sometime this weekend but I can't really remember what day or what time+
+Life in slow-mo. Life in pink.+
+Did you steal my lucky lighter, you fucking dick.+
+By the end of the year, I only want to be reachable by email and I never want to see porn again.+
+I don't want to know the details+
+St. Matthews Church Gardens for a photoshoot. On the way, I bump into an old friend. He has two children now. I wonder if I've changed much. I'm more athletic, I'm less irrational, I'm more confused, he seems to be the opposite. The shoot goes well. The pollen is strong and falls like snowflakes from the big plane trees and they fall diagonally in slow-motion whipping across the garden and into our eyelashes. I skip for a bit for the photo.+
+He's one more beer from his hopes and dreams+
+God bless Primrose Hill always.+
+It's mating season so there's a general sense of horniness in the air+
+Do you think I'm a good friend, a bad friend or a fair friend?+
+The Scrambler is amazing because after about 15 minutes of pedalling, it feels like your feet become the wheels and it's hard to stop, you just want to keep going.+
+Give me soemthing to do tonight+
+On the balcony, smoking and staring at the sky. I call F.A. at the intersection in Clerkenwell, then push it to Peckham on the Scrambler, my single-speed, making it just past time, I've missed a few films but I feel comfortable in the Pelican, it's pretty Peckham, close to that park, with all the Asian moms and the rastas smoking big spliffs on benches, and everyone has Sunday glow, so even when the kids who always ask me my name, ask me my name, all I do is smile and reply back. After the screening, I cycle back to Shoreditch and watch F.A. & E.K. garden. They're travelling to France soon.+
+The surprise was Battle Royale.+
+For two days, while She was gone in Paris, I walked from Shoreditch to Hoxton in the dead of night without an aim, just wandering the streets, one hand on my chest, the other pointed to the sky, trying to see where the wind was going. I have not slept well in a week, once it reaches 12am, I give it two more hours, which turns to three, then the Sun comes up.+
+Seppuku over this mountain o mine+
+ -The Isis is the alternate name for the River Thames- -Stella Maris – "Star of the Sea" and "divine protector of sailors and fishermen"- -the Egyptian goddess- -cartographers insisted that the entire river was correctly named the Isis from its source down to Dorchester on Thames- -where the river meets the Thame and becomes the "Thame-isis"- -maps still label the Thames as "River Thames or Isis" down to Dorchester- -darkness-+
+I'm lost in Elephant & Castle.+
+Sped up 1.5x+
+In the back of the taxi in Westfield.+
+The best bus seat in the house, the one that looks into the road you leave behind. Out on the pavement, they're both running, arms flung wide, feet planting against the concrete to catch it. We go backwards.+
jajaja il pleut du sang du plafond+
+Il y a du sang partout dans cette fête+
+curse is lifted?+
+In the future, they will pump creatine in the water and we'll have to swing back again+
+There’s a problem
stop
he stops in the middle of the road,
and sucks the cigarette deeply
finishing it in 3 puffs +
+I still have exam flashbacks in easter, bad times +
+What a beautifulspine you have my dear+
+everybodys talking at me +
+When you waved, i turned around to make sure+
+Soon everything will be alright+
+I wanna be someone else+
+Where the hell is Marylebone+
+I just put 10 pills in my mouth,
Because I want to be better,+
+b2b hsr,flashman,screeningroom First screenings are all very glitched out, tiktok techno-optimist strange beauties, then flashman for 2/3 (can’t remember) coors by the water where I remembered when I was out on the moon and asked a question above Rotherhithe. Every choice somehow leads to these 2/3 (can't remember) coors by the water. Overground back to Shoreditch high street, so some time before the film starts, and it’s good I’m surrounded by my brothers because the text I get sends me in a spiral but you gotta keep it cool until you can’t when you’re with your brothers then you can wipe your brow and thank God they are there, for you. I also had a McD hamburger with no cheese +
+Boxing to Weezer so I punch 3x harder+
+Let’s not do anything today apart from the duck +
+those jeans look cute on you sayang +
+XXXtra Virgin olive oil+
+I’m addicted to feeling good, whys that a problem?+
+We’re online together+
+I'm walking into a trap, amnt I+
+Every Monday starts the same, every Tuesday ends different+
+Happy birthday Esther from French House+
+Afterglow in Euston Station+
+There's no money left in this town+
+London Fields, 4HL. My Macbook is dead, and I won't read my book. I refuse to. Instead, the pub. One serendiptious run-in with E.L. and a drink with S.R and F.F. and W.K.and K.K. Cheers!+
+God has smiled on us today+
+A hard rain is gonna fall+
+YDEAR - You don't exist anymore retard+
+Cherry blossoms.+
+After 7 days of sun, today, it smellt like rain. What a dreadfully beautiful aroma.+
+There’s just something about that view. Coming from North London, cycling in at 90 miles per hour, no music, nothing on my mind but the sharp glass reaching forth.+
+Your hair smells like chlorine.+
+That bee that used to go to your room is dead now+
+I was on a gram when we met+
+Is the Pollen getting stronger?
Has facebook ever been havked?
Did you drink from the waters of march?+
+Neither of us was conscious when we bumped into each other holding our mobile phonest+
+Dont subvert my expectations give me what i want+
+fuckyoubrewdog@gmail.com
I can think now in html, so much the br and italics bleeds into real life. The Camden Road Arms is owned by Brewdog LLC. So have zero qualms about stealing its wifi, its seating outside right by Camden Road Station and the toilet facilities to have a long piss. 7 days of straight sun in London could change the world b+
+I was fat too, I understand you+
+ Despite th3 microwave food, The view you get of the Gherkin from the Duck & Waffle makes it a pretty good deal. From up here, all the cars look like toys and you can't see the people at all. Just the big beautiful phallus of the City and the office opposite, slowly filling up with more and more people as the Trump tarriff news comes in. A Tom and Greg situtation, one eating chips, the other hunched over his computer. Girlboss that puts on her baseball cap when shez on a call with Hong Kong. The corner office slumdog stretching arms, And the other two or three people trottling in to transfer and send and transfer and send more money than the average man will see in his lifetime. Did I already say it's 11pm?+
+I'm doing this crazy workout for something I'm working on with V.S. It's kinda killing me...+
+Drinking on that Blue Lotus flower teafrom Amazon uh oh it's working, ss+
+I cancelled my Apple Music subscription+
+The Abney Books guys are real sweet+
+Outside the Big Ben with a smoke, F.A. and N. sitting outside the Caffee Nero and I'm holding on to this overpriced bottle of water.+
+I declare war.+
+U.R.. I was at Frecnh House one night with Blow, one red too many, but we had already toured Bar Italia and we said why not Frenchie too? Having a moan in the smoking area about not being able to find my people in London.
Where are they?
Spin around. He's having a pint and he's got that Seussian grin already, eyebrows furrowed, and a bit suspicious but friendly nonetheless, Could I tell?, I'm not sure, but he was my first suspect, so I posed the question.
Do you write?
Why?
That’s all I needed to know.+
+Meeting Keir Starmer was more anticlimactic than I’d anticipated.+
+Cycling past Westminster with T-Dawg at a 100 miles per hour. Rue.+
+Morning after I rub your belly+
+I.W.+
+Hi caveh+
+How could i forget you?+
+I could have gone 10x harder at the era journal reading in the horse hospital.
+Most things fail because of bad communication+
+Run to the park, do 40 pullups, do 40 pushups, do 40 squats, 40 lungers then skip rope for 14 minutes.+
+I miss West London+
+We walked from Lower to Upper Holloway in 3o minutes and I couldn't think of anything more perfect than to have cherry tomatoes once we got to my place.+
+The Peter Hujar is excellent+
+New Papers vol. 2. Cigarettes afterwards. And a hostile pub. I would have caused a ruckus, but I'm just a guest here.+
+H&B to get drugs for mom.+
+Dragon energy at 3am. +
+Hot, hot, hot. With F.A and E.K on Brick Lane, looking at the iced creams. Peachy Den's got a big shop over now on Ely's Yard. They put up these terrorist warning signs all over the street.+
+The ballons are still up after my sister's birthday. She never made it home for St Patties. I wonder if my dad bought the balloons, he looked a bit sad under the sight, scrolling on his iPhone as the floats paraded his head. I wonder if he thinks about what could have been, I know I sure do.+
+Royal George with Y., I.C, Blow, and A.M. N. arrives and we walk back to the bus, then the bus walks over us. On the train ride home, I wave as she leaves at the stop before me.+
+Lanzhou Noodle Bar solo after meeting with M. at Curzon Soho, sad cigarette, light rain, tourists.+
+I SURVIVED THE LAST FULL MOON.+
+JPG+
+I wrote a poem today:
I bumped the train today,
felt it in my bones real, good.
Everything humming in harmony.
The guard grins, lets me in,
slips me a relic: Flip a coin, you’ll see.
This is how the machine turns.
What did I miss at St Mary Magdalene?
The doors hiss
Get off.
Hope Café waits,
patient like an old friend,
Steaming, whisper, words we unsaid.
If I’m lucky, I’ll see you again.+
+One train to Shacklwell Arms. Deny the k bump. Prouda my S. Pellegrino making it past security. Green room, watching Britain's Got Talent.Are you all right or are you all left?+
+Had dinner with the 4HL team at Tayyab's in Whitechapel. They're both good lads. I hope to make them a boat load of money. Came back awfully depressed. Maybe it was the full moon, maybe it was all the Indian food, maybe it was how they removed all the book exchanges in London. But figuring myself a way out of this+
+We argued so of course, I did the best skipping I ever done, going double dutch in an underground car park, listening to two comedians talk about Ireleand under the flickering flourescents.+
+Train broke down today so had to corrall a group of people ont he platform to split a cab to N.'s. The logistics of splitting the cab put me in a Paracetamol. I gotta start cycling again. It was probably in the top 10 most talk some strangers ever got on a London Underground station.+
+Barbican doozy. Real sleepy head, stumbling through the City. Anxious. Don't eat vegan burgers.+
+Highbury & Islington is a very political place to live in.+
+M.V.M’s show. Bump into her and YM at Lidl. Ramadan is funny—you can’t even eat unhealthily. If you do, you’re messed up the next day. Drinking coconut water. Earlier, I broke fast with J.G. and J.C. at Mosob. The sculptures are great, so everyone’s jolly for the pub after, where there’s music by some old folks with guitars. Sloop John B—I sing along. I’m going to miss this place, I think. Johnny B Good finds a hat, suits him like Stallone in Rocky I. Then another cab across the city to a party at this den. Cigarettes indoors, no furniture but bare mattresses—the hosts just moved across the street. Chatting shit, cracking jokes, but really, a J would be a fancy. Then a taxi back to J.G.’s, listening to 808s. I wake up in Luton. It’s sunny. Thank God.+
+There is a very controversial word I think needs to be in The New New Lexicon+
+Everything acts real seasonal to me.
That’s why the only time I cry is when the snow leaves.
Lonely fucker up top, can only see your behind.
And when your eye’s black, you can sleep on the lies.
Good man like you, looking for pies,
pick up a penny, needing surprise.+
+Hungry, walking up this hill. Asked a couple where they got this cookie from, if they sold it inside. No, they said. It’s from the manager. Growing delirious.+
+I'd rather kill myself than live for you+
+Skipping rope in the park near J.G.’s.+
+Plane to Glasgow in the AM, taxi to J.G.‘s in Kelvingrove. 4HL work. Then I’m out, straight to Polish Bar to see Yung Maestro set up with the lads from 1416. I love this city. The high ceilings. The air. The people. It’s what the UK needs more of. I’m shot from the meal deal. Five days into Ramadan, so I’m locked up real bad. Even a drop of ale could quench my thirst. People start pouring in. When the screen goes up and the lights come on, it’s tears in my eyes, especially as J.G. does the final number. Feels like the end of a chapter. Three years for 30 minutes, three cities. After, we play pool. It’s a tense game, but I feel a sore winner. Maybe because I’m sober.+
+Love Seduces Innocence screening. Right before I’m running away from people, trying to upload this thing on letterboxd. A nice bouquet, the hard part at the beach where i cry sometimes and some questions and thethen it's over. Proud of the pool game at the blind beggar afterwards in Whitechapel, smoking and having a coors and destroying the local pool team who has tried to corruptly take over the game. Victory roar - WINNER STAYS ON. WINNER STAYS ON.+
+I’ll talk less soon. Two trains back home. Only really want to do it if it’s pure of heart, there’s no money in this town anymore so it has to come from my heart. The love has to come from my heart, not my head.+
+I’m feeling lucky.+
+First weekend after half term so the kids are pretty happy with Nerf guns as the Sun is up, looking over the tower blocks in North London.+
+Touch me and I’ll rip you apart.+
+Buckingham palace with N and her bro. God bless the coach, all the way to Manchester on this first day of Ramadan.Finished Dubliners and watched people eat. Then broke the fast at the Vietnamese place by P3 with Young Maestro. Duck vit and summer rolls on this kinda summer day.+
+Stockport saga. The place in Manchester didn't make sense. We spent 10 minutes trying to add up whether we should or not then I called the cab and we blasted down to Stockport to P.P.'s place in Stockport. Still fasting so can't have pork, sorry. But zll smiles and super hugs as we lay down on the mattress. The builder's tea was caffeinated though and all I'd ate today was pho, summer rolls, coconut water and half a a protein bar so I stayed up until 5 am tossing and turning as Yung Maestro snored beside me. Skipping rope in the AM after deleting the mattress, new Coach on the way back and there's a couple rock guys from London. He pretends to not see me. I go out my way to make him uncomfortable. Then, it's Finchley Road walking in the sun. Ramadan Mubarak, my bro.+
+24 hours on God's Green Earth+
+My flesh and my heart may fail, but+
+This is a machine.+
+On the calendar, it says Monday but this was the most Sunday a Monday could have been.+
+Chai with V. and N. at the Hut about history and religion, like how it hsould be on a Sunday. Then to T.'s place to hang. Then the ocmmune to read a poem. Sunday should probably be spent at home, but now I'm in pay-off space, I've got to keep it going.+
+Wild Iris, thanks to I.A and M.D for pulling out the stops.+
+I've probably travelled more these last three months in London than ever. Almost 10 years in the city and I'm starting to know it like the back of my hand, but I stillg et lost as there's always a winding road that takes you to a dead end full of mews and other cute things.+
+Started wrapping my knuckles for boxing+
+Marylebone. A good place to listen to the Goldberg Variations by Glenn Gould. The O2 Tower looms over Clipstone Street, my tower, in a way. It’s really shit here too. Nordic deviance and diplomat supremacist plastic surgery clinics, all wrapped around the block. I don’t know what this is. Kind of an office, kind of not. If it's nto that, it's a pub. A hundred of them, all playing the same thing. Live sport, cricket, rugby, tennis. It’s February, so everyone here is with a crutch fresh from ski season. The Castle is shorter this season, but we’re still outside. Maybe there’s something to get going. Just the others from my class, the guys, the painters, happy in their T-shirts and shorts, covered in paint, not giving a damn. Right next to the pharmacy, next to Luxx Apartments, next to the Turkish restaurant. At least we’ve all got a Nando’s. The rain drapes over the city, North London especially. I just wish I could slip into Grace Centre spa, melt under the 5G flashes, let it all blur. I remember the flings here. Even the one night that never became anything. They’re all on the map of London. Not a Nando’s.+
+She got me addicted to the taxi. Life as a blur of photos outside the car window, the driver checking the rear view. DOn't worry, I never throw up+
+Skipping by the car park+
+Sundays without Sun are just days and they're retardedly depressing.+
+F.A's - New Switzerland. E.O. is here from Amsterdam. He's quit his job and is learning Dutch. I've been working, man, yeah justsuper busy with all this stuff, no worries though, yeah I'm taking care of myself, yeah, not really sleeping but it's all good, man. Gotta meet A.G. in Soho, I take a late one and then take two wrong trains then I'm in French House. Then the arcade and E.O disappears before I could say bye. Pool like in Glasgow where I nearly mouthed off at the Polish lady who fucked up my shot. Bus to Notting Hill. Arrive during the intermission Some drama in Soho readings. Couple guys stole some socks, and it's a ruckus. We watch it all play out step by step, the movement int he corner, the two ladies going up with the report, rubbinhg his head then making a bolt for the corner and then the commotion outside. Classic shoving and falling over. No blood. But cops called. Socks returned in two fists. Cheering. d.K. ends the reading sombrely, but after, all everyone wants to talk about is the shoplifting scandal. All the angles and the hooplah. And te funniness of the novelty - socks. Let's all go to The Eagle. Procession to the pub for the lit crew, one pint in and carouselled around. Just want a smoke. The socks are still on my mind. Socks to be you, and I'm laughing, socks to be you. There's a party after. Where. Should I bump it? Another crawl with the lit crew through West London, reminiscing about the months I spent in Ladbroke GGrove, washing dishes, subletting a 2 bedroom and spending all my pay, the littleness of it on Portobello Market, which is still the best market in London. Crisp cold air trips. sporting club. Try to order food but the kitchen won't budge evn though I see acake on the dessert shelf. salivating over the cake then drop my coat to dance to the karaoke guy, swinging from Bob Marley to Depeche Mode. Jumping on my feet and swaying my hips. Bending low and spinning around. There's a party after. Where. Give me a drag. This one will take a cab. Shotgun to South Ken, even more memoria of old days, walking house to house, when things mattered more or less and everyhthing felt so new and clean. And I'd still eat the cookies by the station because you couldn't get them in Surrey. Party is over by the mews by the Chanel store. We decide to get drinks but no coner store fo another 15. So we walk the 15 then t's closed so we walk around then walk the 15 back with no booze, no smokes and nothing to give to this party but ourselves. Birthday girl from Sporting Club's house. How old are you now. How old are you now. How old are you nowww. How old are you now. So rude! But she tells me she's 36. I guessed 4 years younger. She's not feeling too happy about turning 36. The procedure three weks ago, old strange people, strange old people. her friend comes by and we all chat and have. a group hug, but admittedly I was eyeing the smoked salmon in the corner which I was allowed to help myself to. Then, talking nature. The kids at he rjob had been planting a garden then a string of noravirus broke out so the gardening was put to blame. Eyed half-closed so I excuse myself, then take the cab home again.+
+I keep forgetting what we did on Friday. What I did on Friday. i had this reading at abney Books and C.K. and U.R. came and afterwards we went to the pub where C.K. read a poem I wrote, and I decided to write it like a song, because that's better poetry to me. Then I took the bus to Dalston but really it was the bus to Tottenham and I had to then take the bus to dalston where I listened to the same sog onr epeat the whole journey and then got to Cafe Oto. Hung out outside, then went walking around in Dalston Junction looking for a piss. I'm drunk. I dance in the rain, then nearly fall. I checked my knee then headed back, just in time to spot X. and C. outside smoking, talking about the show. I missed them perform but they say it's great and I trust it was awesome. Then 300 comes around, then E.M, then I head in and spot N. scootering about. There's a party after. Where. Trim daps me up. We decide on a cab, then decide against a cab. Catch the bus 243 to Waterloo. Half our party gets off early. We jump back on the bus then make it at the crux of Old St. Walk about ten minutes. Up flight of stairs. Indoor smoking vibe. Squeezing past some bodies and make my way to the corner. Talking to the Swede. Not much to say to the Swede. S.C. starts putting on some music. Dancing with myself. Hi, hey, whatever. Drop my hoodie and coat in E.D.'s room. Smoke a bit. Everyone piles out of the kitchen like a circus act. In the hallway, smoking under a lightbulb. Maybe we should go and then we get a kebab and speed back to North. Only got home when I realised I left my hoodie at the party.+
+Retail park therapy with N. and her friends for her birthday in Barking. Barking must be one of the worst places in London, and I feel no remorse in sharing that. Though, it's kinda cute in that way. The retail park is worth every penny. End up home with about 15 CDs, 7 sweaters and 4 books, even though I've got a wall of books yet to read and even though, I probably shouldn't buy more things. Great to be in the parking lot, smoking by the huge cell phone towers and proclaiming abotu the stars (Venus is close tonight) and playing a game of word association. We get Turkish food in town and then take the Overground back home.+
+Spending more nights at the commune than I thought I would. Bumped into U.R.'s girlfriend, S.J.P and we laugh about it and she's going to Paris. And we think maybe we should go to Paris. But we can't go to Paris. Then it's the city lights twinkling over the dirt mound in Shadwell and I'm thinking maybe all this time it's worth it. Coconut water andbanother Asahi. There's a GBC concert happening so a lot of kids aere around in oversized jeans and hoodies, it makes me want to go skinny onmy next pair. Party's cool. Music's great. M.M and E.P are always great hosts, everyone's smoking for a lot of it. Braver ones smoking indoors even though we should all be smoking indoors. Bump into R.L, see her all the time now but she's good news. Her boyfriend and her just split. She's a Pisces just like me so when she's smiling, I know it hurts even more. I can't have any more beer. I dance a bit in my boots, I talk a bit with E.P. and M.M again. I wish no one else was at this party but 4 of us. Then, N. and I escape in a taxi and the driver tells us happy New Year.+
+Day after the reading and I'm drunk watching Wild At Heart at F.A.'s Screening Room. Nick Cage dances and screams on-screen, while I nurse an Asahi through the runtime, no breaks. Afterwards, thinking of T.C who just split up with his girlfriend, maybe this film woulda changed his mind.+
+ ***’s Letter
When our bodies meet, ecstatic for a midnight’s madness,
My addiction and yours for something deeper than the big blue sea.
Swimming across turquoise dreams
Of my words and your symbols.
Oh, my love, I ache for your midnight embrace,
For your madness to consume me,
Like a whale swallowed whole by the waves.
With every kiss, I feel a quiet death,
As I walk upon the shore,
Free to be real again,
To hide my wooden nose from your knowing gaze,
And in your touch,
Discover longing once more—
Raw, aching, and beating,
In my soft, decaying brain. +
+D. is teaching me to box, now I have to learn how to dance+
+Bounce+
+ I want to make love with you lets do it now lets kiss i don’t care they don’t care +
+Nursing a stomach ache in Glasgow. This is my second time here, and it feels like a direct loop. Burns Night dinner at a stranger’s house. Touring the cloisters. Drinking Polish beer with the seaman and his fiancée. Watching the rushing waves from Kelvin Park. Then, there is a dance. Tonight, it’s FKA twigs for her new album. She only comes on for three songs and then bows out before getting the crowd to recite a prayer. I’m putting out fires on my phone at the same time. January is always hard. And always worthwhile, too. My patience for London is shot.+
+What’s your thoughts on gender segregation?
50/50+
+She hid her face with an umbrella+
+Eating cow heart+
+1. Art doesn’t need to be interesting; it should just come from the heart+
+ It’s 10 am, and the street lights are still on in sleepy London. I’ve got a coffee from Cafe Alexandria, and I’m skipping rope.+
+To live as a youth today is to be homeless. Spiritually homeless. Emotionally homeless. Socially homeless. Sleepwalking to armageddon, but everyone wants it to happen; meanwhile, it won’t+
+At E.’s beautiful apartment in Notting Hill. No, I did not complete Dry January. I did quit the backy after David died. E.’s been ill and has fully recovered from drinking horse supplements. We all talk about the godless. X hates the godless; the truth is that we all are.+
+’The only way I could do that was if you had to do a little more work and I would be happy with it but you have a hard day to work and you know I don’t know how you can get that much work and you know that you can get a little more time off but you know that and you can get it and I know you have a good night I hope you’re having fun I know that but you have a great night I hope that you’re feeling good I hope that your sleep gets through tonight I love it and I’m so glad that you’re doing well and I’m so proud that you’re feeling much more rested I hope that I hope that I hope that I love to hear you and I’m glad you got some sleep and I’m glad you got a lot better and I’m glad you have fun I hope that you’re doing well and I’ll see me know I hope you’re feeling good luck and I’ll see if I can get better I hope you’re not too busy with the rest is good luck to me love and I’ll see if you’re doing well and I’m so glad that you’re feeling good morning I hope you’re having fun and I’ll see how you are you know I hope all the same good luck and good night and I’ll see if I hope you’re feeling good I hope you’re doing well and have have fun with the boys and girls love to you guys love to you and miss seeing your mom’Notes App generated text from M.M. & E.P’ commune dinner+
+GOD SAVE LONDON!+
+Tonight, David Lynch died. His lungs burnt up just like the trees in California. The news comes by way of a video of a parody talking fish On Instagram - just as he'd have intended. I'm on the way to the cinema. After the screening, at Waxy's, we're outside and the film colorist hands me one. This will be my last.+
+Ple Ca Vu at Brick Lane coffee shop, discussing M with Y. and R. and F.C. It's all fab until the usuals start playing fishing videos on the projector. Guys in Bengal rivrs with trophy trout as big as their arms, flashing them up the camera. Y. passes me a Double Happiness. Gifts from I.C's time in China. I'm thinking of somewhere else.+
+At Brick Lane coffee shop with I.S., and the evil is near us. It's so near, i want to grab it but Go won't let me. Not this time at least.+
+He's at The Jugged Hare. SHe's gone off to the toilet and he stares back at the menu. Dry January. A text from the group chat - lol. Soda water should fix this itch - it doesn't. Maybe that wrecthed 0.0%, no that doesn't either. He takes a sip of the tap water. What am I doing here?+
+Every day I spend in this wretched hellhole, is everyday that I see my life flushing down the drain.+
+2.17 am going to a big cinema for the first time in a few years, very depressing, very depressed. bad movie and badder crowd. I see why this business isn't viable, people suck and there's a small number of people who make things worse for everyone.+
+b2b dalston days of mizry and hope+
+Moving The table again in new conditions to F.'s. +
+Tarot +
+You only sing when youre winning b +
+Moving table from Bethnal Green with X. and I.C. So much can happen here b+
+Table read for the new film with V, Young Maestro and J. I'd love to dance soon. +
+If I had to choose a religion, the sun as the universal giver of life would be my god.+
+Hump Day in Moorgate. January, so it means that after the rain, there's no tourists, no cityseekers or Jack The Ripper fans, just the regular 4HL's emerging from the subterranean offices underground or the lofty glass cages in the sky to eat a slop bowl of grains, seeds, and advertised protein. The entire street is deserted, barring the Koreans who still shop at All Saints. He bought one too many Christmas gifts, so he's sat on a Lime bike with a backpack full of hot food from the Thai place. It's being charged by the minute, he better be fast; everything works by the minute in this town.
+Did I tell you that I missed you?+
+January means contracts, a lot of contracts, a lot of looking over legal agreements and optimisim, false or not. Looking at the end of the year in maxims that won't make sense until fully resolved..+
+French House, under rain with the boys from high school. A buddy of mine shows up and says he's getting married. No time ever feels just right, now is the best solution.+
+xx+
+Winter+
+We created another flowchart. Run away or face it all. But to face it, I need more courage. I'm afraid. I can admit I'm very afraid of everything.+
+We made a bet on if it was going to snow tonight, it looks like I'm going to win. I've never lost a bet yet.+
+Sushi with Young Maestro, discussing the evil of the world. We all have the propensity, the year is to embrace all the evil and all the good. All of it. Just dance all of it out in the fire.+
+Watching the fireworks pop and fizzle over the sea in Southend. The sound of the waves crashing against the docks, spraying us with sea foam and the smell of the salt washing over me. So many miles for this moment. So many memories to burn in the trash. So many more to be created in the windowpane. And I know that all that matters is tomorrow, that's why everything else isn't real.+