a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

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.

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

its performative

division of reality is straying away from it

was it worth it


you cannot feed someone truth

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

like magnets

as in

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.

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

autonomy of learning

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."