somewhere between instagram and chatgpt


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.


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

I am below everything.

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

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

what do you think my name is

isaac newton

plato

all that is to say

i love it here

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.

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

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

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

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

its performative

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

magnetises a pin

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

yeah