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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

kind of mythopoesis

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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

idk

you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak

is everyoneback on tumblr now

your feed looks like my tumblr

magnetisation/form

not their contents

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

currently

fw

i have read not even 1 book

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

so the method has to be autonomous

autonomy of learning

its performative

really i want the internet

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

the site i am dreaming

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.

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.