as in
you cannot feed someone truth
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
you have a beautiful account btw
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
it is hopeful
i dont understand magnetisation
your feed looks like my tumblr
i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Dreams like these are highly symbolic and emotionally intense. Here’s a breakdown of common interpretations:
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
we need to be deconstructing our identities
its good
thank you
in a post. I want to be remembered
It was about a crazy lady who lived above his flat in Pimlico. She would let pigeons into her flat so she could feed them. Apparently she didn't want her presence in the flat to interfere with the natural behaviour of the pigeons, so she would let them nest and shit in there and she wouldn't clean it up, because it wasn't natural to do so. The pigeons would die, but apart from the smell and the sludge and the gas, the corpses weren't really a problem. It was the rats that came to eat them. The rats would eat the rotting pigeon corpses mixed in with the rotting pigeon shit and they would get ill and die too. New rats that came through wouldn't mind though, and they'd start to eat the mass, only to get sick and die in it later on. The population grew steadily as more pigeons and rats came from in the cold, to live naturally. They fed the mass further.
Another Frenchman pushes through the crowd to join him. He's an events organiser who I'd met earlier, and he's holding a large box wrapped in a bin bag. They're the fireworks he'd smuggled in from France the night before. They're Industrial Grade, whatever that means for fireworks.
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
and the fake qualifier
...
currently
yeah
barren land
i love it here
we can only engage in such a way
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
or never left