autonomy of learning
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
i have read not even 1 book
amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting
your feed looks like my tumblr
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
we can only engage in such a way
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
not their contents
or never left
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
so at the end
there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
as in
so the method has to be autonomous
all that is to say
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
i really havent
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch