"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I am below everything.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
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.
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.
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
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
all that is to say
think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now
its performative
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
and the fake qualifier
have you read
sorry i am texting like a slav