There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
division of reality is straying away from it
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
plato
Thank you, Jack
it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
as in
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
its performative
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
all that is to say
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
but i respect your search
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
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it 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 heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.
"Put a blanket."
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything