magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

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

division of reality is straying away from it

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.

all that is to say

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

propensity within someone

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

magnetisation/form

not their contents

as in

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then

i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

send your tumblr

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

so at the end

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.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

kind of mythopoesis

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

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