i am quite illiterate on producing technology
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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
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.
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.its performative
is everyoneback on tumblr now
as in
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
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
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
division of reality is straying away from it
autonomy of learning
barren land
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
so the method has to be autonomous
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then