but i respect your search

yes

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

i have read not even 1 book

my watchlater reached its limit years ago and now i have to create a playlist for each new topic im interested in but it is incredibly hard to create the taxonomy of knowledge because everything seems to be everything else because at the end it is what you get from it that matters not what is given

and the fake qualifier

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

was it worth it

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

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

i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

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.

Style

i understand

Overall meaning: The dream seems to explore vulnerability, unspoken emotion, and the tension between connection and isolation. It suggests you may be processing intense feelings of longing or missed opportunities, and your subconscious is guiding you to acknowledge, release, or transform them.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

lol yea

I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.

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

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.