you cannot feed someone truth

IWGD

Today I felt like starting

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. 

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13, H, grate

"Put a blanket."

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

i have read not even 1 book

its performative

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.

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

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?

division of reality is straying away from it

its good

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

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

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

theres a kind of a cowardice to generative art that i want to avoid though. i want the kind of relationship to this thing that a game designer has to a game engine

not their contents

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

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

as in

its good short few pages

whats your name?

no longer writing in the third person