over there, somewhere, somehow along the way;
being became that which it despised the most,
perhaps that which it desired the most,
hypocritical?
seeks consistency; returns to zero, again;
failing, or merely falling back;
now, maybe, may-be;
heaven, or a forever hell;
- xxix0x
For the next year, don't try to become extraordinary.
Become reliably ordinary.
Show up.
Do the work.
Keep your promises to yourself.
After enough days, what once felt ordinary becomes exceptional because so few people sustain it.
Do you know why Oct 7 / Al Aqsa Flood is viewed with such shock in the West?
Because the fight was taken to the enemy. Psychologically, there is nothing more terrifying to the West.
They believe war should only be waged on others' soil, on their terms.
That is the truth.
I feel like I'm forgetting myself, little by little. What am I if not my memories; and once they are gone, do I change or remain who I was? Now I carry a form; but the particulars are long gone; sins and virtues are written; and the present is being made;
Pain is, only so long as the remembering remains. Something stays, perhaps; not pain, but its architecture; a figment, a placeholder, the outline of an absence.
That day never comes
the day upon which everything is meant to be repaired.
And if, by some accident, it does arrive,
you will not be there to witness it.
Today is that day.
Just not yours.
It belongs to someone else,
as yours once belonged to another.
Man, being the sum total of original, acquired, and modified thoughts, is a paradox: cage him, and he longs for freedom; free him, and he binds himself to desire. Being is movement, from here to there; to be is to be in motion.
Natural Language Autoencoders distill sentences into latent vectors z = E(x), then resurrect them via x̂ = D(z).
We optimize
ℒ = ‖x − D(E(x))‖² + β·KL / regularization,
forcing the model to discover the hidden geometry of meaning itself.
Incidental and accidental, of back and forth, in warmth and out of thought. Beginnings and endings, threaded through imperfections; open wounds in stony hearts. Into the river and toward the ocean... endless waves to forget who you are.
Ten years of drives and ten years of longing all end here tonight. It might be the start of a new day, or a pull toward the void. To become a past version of yourself, shaped in the present for the future: beginnings and quicksand, addictions and piety, all gathered here.