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.

what do you think my name is

propensity within someone

the site i am dreaming

i love it here

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

god being the centre magnet

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

so an active mazelike process

you have a beautiful account btw

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.

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

like first name

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

magnetises a pin

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

isaac

no like which do people call me

He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.

But seriously, thank you, Jack, for telling me that I could submit this to a high-level literary magazine or creative nonfiction outlet with some minor tweaks. I don't think I will do that.

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

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.

which magnetises chains of pins

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

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

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