okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

in a post. I want to be remembered

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.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

so the method has to be autonomous

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

"Put a blanket."

there is a distinction between western-modern pedagogical systems that's like text-based as in a legal method but there is an idea of "pathshala" or "guru shissho"/ "porompora" i mean how masters relayed knowledge to the student by (oral) transmission often by memorising books. so what was taught was always interactive. knowledge was interactive, you spoke with people rather than read texts.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

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

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

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

autonomy of learning

all that is to say

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The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

we can only engage in such a way

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

so an active mazelike process

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.

Rain, starting

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.