was it worth it

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

13, H, grate

autonomy of learning

so at the end

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Thank you, Jack

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

Worse Lift

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

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

lol yea

magnetises a pin

that looks like my instagram account


magnetisation basically means the induction of divine form unto you

send your tumblr

you cannot feed someone truth

all that is to say

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

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

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

its good short few pages

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.

It's loud and he's gone deaf in one ear, so I don't think he's really hearing anything I'm trying to say. We're both pretty drunk too. It's making for a kind of surreal interactive Business Insider YouTube video of a conversation. He talks, waits for my response, sees my mouth moving but doesn't hear my words, then he imagines something in their place, and replies to that. At least I don't really have to do anything but drink and mime and listen to a lot of bullshit fake gangster talk, being an actor, boxing, the old days, blah blah blah.

no i haven't really read anything

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.

god being the centre magnet

Today I felt like starting