I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.

we can only engage in such a way

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

autonomy of learning

really i want the internet

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

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

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

It Will Get Lighter

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation

1

Rain, starting

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

all that is to say

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.

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

but i respect your search

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

It Will Get Lighter

so the method has to be autonomous

i see a website

Pimlico Rats

Lift Analysis