The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
...
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.
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
...
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
you cannot feed someone truth
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
and the fake qualifier
whats your name?
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
was it worth it
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
autonomy of learning
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.