plato

fw

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

as in

you cannot feed someone truth

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

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.

propensity within someone

is this you as well

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

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

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

abrar?

But seriously, thank you, Jack

lol

ion

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

its performative

...

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

its good short few pages

1

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

its good

I Write Goodbye Letter

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.

Picture