as in

autonomy of learning

so at the end

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

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

propensity within someone

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

really i want the internet

much more tactility

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

so an active mazelike process

magnetisation/form

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

The old failed actor genuinely believed this girl was of a lesser race. He believed she shouldn't be talking with me, shouldn't be here at this party, shouldn't be here in this country. He wanted a white England. I didn't really challenge him on it. Sometimes I justify it with thoughts like I was drunk, or baffled, or it isn't an argument I'll win, or he can't hear me anyway, or whatever. I didn't argue with him. I just cut off his rant and left with a pathetic "In a bit."

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

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

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

"Put a blanket."

hello reader,

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

1

not so on: yvf(wthw)

yeah

...

kind of mythopoesis