And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.
I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.
really i want the internet
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
autonomy of learning
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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
we need to be deconstructing our identities
that looks like my instagram account
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
i was tempted to lie about my name
i am quite illiterate on producing technology