Aubrey Beardsley

Alfred Pellan, Voltige d’automne, 1973, Colored ink and India ink on velvet paper

it’s good practice to like a tweet before you reply; it’s a sign of respect when entering a conversation; if you do not want to enter a conversation with a person, then there are quote-tweets to build from what was said as content; even then, it’s good to like the content first

I should write something about virtue and communication

working toward a dissertation is like being trapped in a project; my arms and legs are tied down, and I’m working with my pen between my teeth

the pens are generally metaphorical anymore

when my son was just learning to talk, he indicated to me that he wanted an object, and I pointed to the object and asked this? and then handed it to him, and he gripped it in his little hands so tightly they shook, and he excitedly repeated this! (I don’t remember what this was)

the fragile facade of a tender heart.

relative to work, I’ve started to feel like a woman who is desperate for a baby but can’t conceive; I have all this knowledge and knowhow and my intentions are good, but I have no outlet; I’ve tried to create one as a sort of self-fertilization, but I must not be a tomato plant

(I didn’t particularly feel like doing this tweet today, but I had it drafted from last night, which was another unfitting time for it, but I like the analogy even if I’m not in a career-focused state of mind at present, the present being of a relaxing early saturday evening)

in a literal way I consider myself to be a model of the world trained on experiential data, but I don’t want to, like, merge with the machines or even elevate the machines to the level of humans; that would be crass

I feel like I accessed a part of my brain that hasn’t been active since around 2022 today

just caught myself legitimately sitting like the thinker while contemplating a sushi menu