Her English is poor but she manages a brief introduction before getting to the point. She asks if she can touch his face. She's already reaching out and gesturing at it. Koreans are way too polite, he's just laughing awkwardly. I put my hand kind of between them and wave it to try and indicate no to her. I'm still in fucking mime mode. I say no, but it's not really to her, or to him, just no, in general. This is all too weird. Dejected, she departs with a comment about having never seen someone like him before.

hiding from the rain

Rain, starting

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

13, H, grate

you cannot feed someone truth

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

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

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.

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

I am below everything.

i see a website

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

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

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.

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

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

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

really i want the internet

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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

Worse Lift

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

autonomy of learning