a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

Lift Analysis

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

your feed looks like my tumblr

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

that looks like my instagram account

Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

magnetisation/form

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

autonomy of learning

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

i love it here

its good short few pages

much more tactility

not their contents

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

its good

have you read

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

what do you mean

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

idk

plato

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.

hello reader,

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

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

is this you as well

i was tempted to lie about my name