i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

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

its performative

i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue

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

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

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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

Thank you, Jack

autonomy of learning

currently

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

so the method has to be autonomous

you have a beautiful account btw

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

i see a website

yes

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

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Rain, starting

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt