hiding from the rain

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.

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

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

but i respect your search

this will be about a slug

send link

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

hello reader,

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

in a post. I want to be remembered

is everyoneback on tumblr now

we can only engage in such a way

...

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

its performative

send your tumblr

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.

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

2 (actually index). two is company

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