Accept the possibility of misreading signs.
disconnect 057/237
[13 September 2026]
-----------------------
don't choose
get comfortable, look
don't speak
find and see
the real
[Cardi B, Bodak Yellow]
Information-induced intoxication.
Fragments.
Tunnels splitting forests in half.
How much of what we do happens consciously, how much unconsciously?
I look it up: 5:95
Where’s the line between these different modes of operation?
A low wave of tiredness, barely a meter high, collapses over my mind and makes me feel warm and comfortable.
It is 3:28 PM and I am on the train to Münster.
I close my eyes, tilt my head back, rest it against the train seat, and enjoy not being in control of my thoughts.
I feel excitement, like I used to as a child on December 23.
Multiple conversations, headphone-high-passed music, and the low-frequency hum of the train engine blend.
I yawn and watch the blurry landscape pass by.
Even though my eyelids are heavy, I open with a Bird, A Reader on Avian Kinship and start to read:
It’s easy to accept new information as long as it fits easily into the framework we already know. But it’s really hard to even notice something from outside one’s own world-making project. [p. 168]
I close my eyes again.
What is mine?
What belongs to others but I believe is mine?
Is it common for my thoughts to be question marks, rarely answers?
Accept the possibility of misreading signs.
disconnect 057/237
[13 September 2026]
-----------------------
don't choose
get comfortable, look
don't speak
find and see
the real
[Cardi B, Bodak Yellow]
Information-induced intoxication.
Fragments.
Tunnels splitting forests in half.
How much of what we do happens consciously, how much unconsciously?
I look it up: 5:95
Where’s the line between these different modes of operation?
A low wave of tiredness, barely a meter high, collapses over my mind and makes me feel warm and comfortable.
It is 3:28 PM and I am on the train to Münster.
I close my eyes, tilt my head back, rest it against the train seat, and enjoy not being in control of my thoughts.
I feel excitement, like I used to as a child on December 23.
Multiple conversations, headphone-high-passed music, and the low-frequency hum of the train engine blend.
I yawn and watch the blurry landscape pass by.
Even though my eyelids are heavy, I open with a Bird, A Reader on Avian Kinship and start to read:
It’s easy to accept new information as long as it fits easily into the framework we already know. But it’s really hard to even notice something from outside one’s own world-making project. [p. 168]
I close my eyes again.
What is mine?
What belongs to others but I believe is mine?
Is it common for my thoughts to be question marks, rarely answers?