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

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

no longer writing in the third person

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

"Put a blanket."

13, H, grate

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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

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

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

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

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

lol

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

your feed looks like my tumblr

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. I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the dim silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank. 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.

yeah

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

isaac newton

There is a pretty persistent ambient hate in England, a lot of people say vile shit about Muslims or immigrants or whatever, but in my experience most people aren't actual white supremacists. They have a black friend who they get a beer with. One of the good ones. Etc.

It Will Get Lighter

Her English is poor but she manages a brief introduction before getting to the point. She asks if she can touch his face. She's already reaching out and gesturing at it. Koreans are way too polite, he's just laughing awkwardly. I put my hand kind of between them and wave it to try and indicate no to her. I'm still in fucking mime mode. I say no, but it's not really to her, or to him, just no, in general. This is all too weird. Dejected, she departs with a comment about having never seen someone like him before.