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

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

hiding from the rain

1

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

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.


much more tactility

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting


Today I felt like starting

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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

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

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos


FOUNDING DOCUMENT

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

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

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

Can I see

it is hopeful

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

you cannot feed someone truth

currently

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.