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.
and the fake qualifier
wait what is that
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.
...
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
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.
i really havent
send link
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
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
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.feel you
so the method has to be autonomous
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now