Knowing the filter means to know the numerous things that have been filtered by it and being able to draw some commonality between them. But the filter has many dimensions and many entities flow through it for many reasons. It is not possible to determine why each entity passes through the filter. This approach is not likely to work because commonalities do not seem apparent. If we were hoping to reverse engineer the filter, those hopes must be given up. We have been interested in the filter because we want to make it broader and we want to understand the logic that has been programmed into it to exclude and include certain certain kinds of content. We have studied the content that has been included and the only thing common in the content has been a willingness amongst the content-providers to package and promote the content in a way that appeals to the filter. The basis for the filtration to happen has not been revealed and has not made itself apparent.

So, if we focus instead on the entities which have been excluded and attempt to find a commonality between them, then maybe we could understand the rationale of the filter.

How do we even imagine the content that is excluded by the filter? Does it even leave a shadow behind? How are we connected to the body of content that is excluded? If the filter is a kind of network operator that finds and rewards only kinship amongst the content entities it examines then it must be blind to the fragments which are not connected to each other because of a lack of any coherent strategy or narrative. When the filter’s users seek results they do not seek networks, they seek individual content items. The claim that networks help to establish the value of content items in a frame that mechanical content interpretation is not possible does not hold true in all cases. For dealing with the macro-reality of the landscape, liaisons and networks might make sense. But when it comes down to the interior, content entities actually rely on the filter to be able to search for and connect with other fragments. And this is where the filter fails, it fails to account for itself as a comprehensive map of content that ascribes value and offers access by actually assessing the content itself. If it lacks mechanical means of doing so, it must find other ways but it cannot claim to be perform the function delegated to it if it does not find a way.

The nature of the landscape we live in today is such that the fragments are seeking other fragments to form their own networks and they are finding it difficult to do so. There is no way for fragments to access other fragments if they choose for principled reasons to not play the games the filter requires them to play in order to take account of them.

When we write and when what we write is read there is a subtle shift. When the reading happens, what we have written comes across as a stated truth. Texts, just by the means of ink on paper or pixels on screen, have a ring of the absolute about them. The hooks that we have in our speech, the hooks that allow the questions to seem as if they are not complete without at least a tentative response, appear via sound through our reading of the question. The process that operates is something like this: things are written, they are read, in the reading the exposed hooks are recovered, the responses are then formulated and they are posted. This might suggest that texts get completed only when they are read. Unread texts are like undetonated bombs.

But there is a middle path, there is a form of text that is the lyric which is written the way it is read. The written word is no longer just the written word but is the word read aloud as well. For us, the post is the lyric. The post is the sound and text intertwined. When the sound and text get intertwined, the text jumps from its designated place (either on screen or on paper) and gets animated. Reading in this environment becomes a skill that is able to track this animation. In the midst of the text's curved motion, the reader is able to constantly track its motion.

The reader can read the melody that accompanies the text's coming into the world. When this melody is read, the space within which sound is imagined is used. Sound is first an abstract and then a material. Our mathematical brains simulate and complete melodies before they are actually completed. These predictive scores are, more often than not, wrong. The predictive scores just become a parallel track to the actual melody and because it is produced by us and not by the author, it has a higher degree of proximity and trust for us.

We experience fluidity with the lyric because of the predictive score which we feel is our own creation. We feel stasis when we lost in the actual melody, struggling to find the pattern of harmony within it. So the lyric allows us to feel the static and the fluid at the same time. But the lyric is not easy to evoke. For the lyric’s reality depends equally on the ability of being read. And so no lyric is realised at birth, it is realised only on being read. While it lies unread, it lies in wait. And there is no formula for a lyric that is lying in wait to be found. There are lyrics lying unread under each rock in the landscape. This takes away from the rarified pleasure and exotica that lyrics are traditionally presented with.

Solving the processes of production is all well and good, but till the process through which new lyrics can actually be found spontaneously, till then the cycle cannot be deemed complete. The output has to feed the input in a naturalistic way that does not require the prevalence of gatekeepers and filter mechanisms for the perspective and the provenance of these can neither be known or configured. As long as these are variables configured by the environment, we cannot (with any degree of certainty) claim to be responsible for seeking answers to our own questions.

We write and after we have written we want to know what we have done. At that point, we notice that there is a gap between words that we have written and in fact these words can be counted. We count the words and we keep a record. When we have written a five hundred words, we stop. In text sometimes it is not about words - it is about ploys and it is about mechanisms that we use and the meaning they contain. A hastily written poem, only a few lines in length sometimes might means more than a few pages of long-form text. That is possible. But something else matters as far as text is concerned. The time taken to write the text matters because when we write we use the time to process things in our mind.

People meditate, they do yoga or they jog - a few amongst the many things they do to discipline and train their senses as well as their body. Our basic training has to be such that our fingers can construct meaning without our mind first constructing and then casting that meaning to our fingers. Fingers learn to write only under specific conditions. One, are they being physically taught to type? This is important. A lot of writing is purely physical. It takes patience to sit at the same place and observe the slow unraveling of meaning through words that are appearing on a screen or a sheet of paper. This patience has to exert brute force and act against the urge to fly off into the expanse and essentially roam here and there.

We are not crafting a cult around the practice of automatic writing. We are taking the physical aspect of automatic writing and attempting to construct a method to overcome the imposition of reason on narrative and the set of patterns into which words can arrange themselves. Words can arrange themselves also in patterns that the mind finds itself. Texts can reveal how the writer thinks and what its essential nature is when there is no thread of fiction or fact that the text is tracing. Beyond a point, a text needs to be about itself. Being about itself is not an obsession but a liberation. It does not have to be about anything else.

A text being about text is about a format being about itself. This means content is not ever in question. If content is not ever in question, if the format only has to be exposed in particular configurations and if that is the only value of content, then text as a format speaks only when it is about itself only. Text will be about itself only when the practice of writing is broken down and rendered into a method and not spoken of as a skill or a talent anymore.

Texts need to be primarily known for the plastic form that they give to mental states.

A text comprises of paragraphs; a paragraph comprises of sentences and sentences comprise of words. This sentence states the obvious. But we do this for a reason. Text operates at these three levels, like everything else. The micro and the macro operate together. That is the first chapter in the book of analysis of experience. But besides the fact that this micro-macro perspective applies to everything we can still apply it to text. And when we do that, we realise that writing is a craft and a strategy at the same time. That is not to say that craft is not strategic, but it is generally the case. The process of engaging in a craft is so integrated with the business of doing that it seems to be difficult to concoct a theory of craft that does not involve some kind of action. So one part of text is solely about typing. The tempo of typing out a text gradually through time is an essential part of writing. The other part of writing is about strategy in a way that the word does not automatically suggest. Strategy generally suggests a manipulative process of not being entirely transparent about one's intentions. But this is not the context in which we evoke the word here.

For us strategy means having a vision of how the text is intended to feel when it is complete. We might not know exactly what the text will read like, we might not even be aware of the composition of the ext in terms of the terrain it will cover. But generally most typists who write know what the text would feel like. Speaking for ourselves, it is the navigation system that we use to shape most of our texts.

If this sense-of-the-whole is the operative sense in writing and shaping a text, then which sense helps in shaping in the post?

Posts are fragments of text that might not have a specific strategy. It is not even needed. Once you decide to post for a strategic reason, the actual task of posting does not require a specific strategy. It only requires the syntax of a prior strategy to be applied. This application is a simple expression within a format. When even a five hundred word text requires a strategic vision for its completion, a hundred and forty word post requires only a adherence to format in terms of being disciplined about the compression of meaning and content within the given format.

Posts are packages that follow rules. Texts are scenarios that set out the rules. Rules need illustrations and illustrations need rules.

Posts can also thought to be arrays of rules - laid out in a succession, across time. Posts demand more from readers, for meaning (if any) is rendered in their memory. Memory of the reader should have the narrative span in order to accommodate a lengthy expanse of meaning. Posts will be recurrent. Through their recurrence, they will spin a yarn of meaning. Posts and texts are bound within a loop in this way. Texts lead to posts and posts get compiled as texts.