i am quite illiterate on producing technology
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
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
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
the site i am dreaming
all that is to say
your feed looks like my tumblr
propensity within someone
in a post. I want to be remembered
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting