its performative
no i haven't really read anything
autonomy of learning
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
propensity within someone
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
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.
much more tactility
as in
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
so an active mazelike process
the site i am dreaming
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.
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.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
was it worth it
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.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
Today I felt like starting