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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.
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.
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl
really i want the internet
Better Lift
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
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
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
okay this is interesting because pedagogies we have rn are not proper models
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
much more tactility