Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
all that is to say
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
division of reality is straying away from it
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
autonomy of learning
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
i am quite illiterate on producing technology
much more tactility
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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
i really havent
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.
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
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
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"Put a blanket."