writing is like suddenly holding a wet fish in your hand, gaping at each other for a brief instant, and letting it slip back into the river -- and then later, staring at your palm, trying to recall how it felt (startled, wet, desperate, forceful, alive)

It’s finally September on here!

“The emotions that constitute these two acts are completely opposed. In the first case, the animal is hunted as a sacred being and the hunter is thankful; in the second case, the animal whose life is taken is a threat to the artificial order that the person who becomes shepherd creates in this act.”

the fantasy of scale is generated by habituation with things that scale (capital, information, “knowing-that”, fame, media)

the dream of change is dreamt by things that you’ve been changed by

scale panickingly demands the future, now; change invites you to go take a walk

having lurked here for a bit, i think what I hope from this place is not the affordances of twitter/mastodon but the possibility of the protocol

if microblogging UI = building typology, distributed protocol = land ownership structure

make art that is lived in, worked with, not read, analyzed, and interpreted. situations, not narratives. form, not discourse.