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

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

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

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currently


really i want the internet

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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

It Will Get Lighter

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

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

magnetisation/form



i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate


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

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

so at the end

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.