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

that looks like my instagram account

sorry i am texting like a slav

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

i love it here

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

no i haven't really read anything

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

we need to be deconstructing our identities

you cannot feed someone truth

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

we can only engage in such a way

all that is to say

plato

isaac

so the method has to be autonomous

plato

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

feel you

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

like magnets