plato

Today I felt like starting

no longer writing in the third person

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

really i want the internet

Style

propensity within someone

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

is everyoneback on tumblr now

you cannot feed someone truth

we can only engage in such a way

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

that looks like my instagram account

so the method has to be autonomous

Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.

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

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

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

yes

barren land

lol

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