Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
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
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
god being the centre magnet
you cannot feed someone truth
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
it is hopeful
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
hiding from the rain
not their contents
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
all that is to say
division of reality is straying away from it
in a post. I want to be remembered
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.
Today I felt like starting
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
its performative
autonomy of learning
magnetisation/form