He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.
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
really i want the internet
it is hopeful
currently
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
whats your name?
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
bro i read nothing in my life
Actual born-Londoners aren't LARPing like this, they sold their shite family home for a million pounds and moved to Malaga years ago. They have their culture and they've taken it elsewhere.
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
its good
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate