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

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

mazelike/rhizomatic/immanent/emergent are not antithetical to a transcendent real but its very manifestation

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Lift Analysis

propensity within someone

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

all that is to say

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

much more tactility

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

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

or never left

okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models

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.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

As I'm trying to tell my Korean colleague / fresh meat that this is abnormal, that most people in England aren't like this, the host of the party emerges from the bathroom to a roar of laughter and applause. He's a fat middle aged Frenchman and he's changed into traditional Indian dress and a turban. He looks fucking ridiculous. I try to back away, to avoid the inevitable photo of me in this moment that will one day appear to ruin my life, but everyone is crowding around, trapping me in the middle of it.

we can only engage in such a way

you have a beautiful account btw

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

not so on: yvf(wthw)

you cannot feed someone truth

A roll of 50s is one of the items he dumps onto my table during the search. Of course it is. He asks if I'm a delivery boy or a setter or this or that diamond related job. I keep saying no, I'm enjoying hearing all of these new words. Eventually I tell him that I work in film, which is kind of true. He asks where I'm filming. I'm not filming. He tells me that I can't be that good at it then. He then tells me that he made a film once, in the 80s. It was called Pimlico Rats.