1

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.

what do you mean

sorry i am texting like a slav

you cannot feed someone truth

division of reality is straying away from it

i understand

i struggle with building a personal technical architecture for storing media, both curation and creation. instead i bookmark everything

isaac

as in

i love it here

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

i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason

...

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

ion

the site i am dreaming

i have read not even 1 book

i really havent

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

I Write Goodbye Letter

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

or never left

Picture

idk

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet