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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.
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
I am below everything.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
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
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
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.
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
all that is to say
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
not their contents