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It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox."Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
yes
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
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.
theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
in a post. I want to be remembered
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it
autonomy of learning
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
lol yea
ahnaf abrar
yeah
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine