There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Better Lift

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

IWGD

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

Picture

so the method has to be autonomous

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

much more tactility

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.

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.