the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.
at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.
high school theater is so funny cus like. one year you can have the most cunt wrenching performance of Phantom Of The Opera ever brought to life by 17 year olds and the next year. a really mediocre rendition of Seussical The Musical.
are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid
The Guys In White had been following Phantom around constantly and while they weren't much of a threat, they were a massive nuisance. They had shot him down on Thursday and caused him to crash into some poor kids birthday cake in the park.
On Friday they had accidentally released ghost rats into the school.
On Saturday they had somehow managed to turn Paulinas hair ectoplasm green. She refused to leave her bedroom until it was reversed
On Sunday they tried to commandeer his parents GAV and earned the ire of his mom. They found out exactly why that was a bad idea.
On Monday they bardged into Danny's classroom, interrupting his math test because they were looking for a ghost parrot. It was mostly harmless but kept insulting them in a cheery tone. Danny decided he liked that bird.
We won't speak about what happened on Tuesday.
On Wednesday, he scowled at an agent that had accidentally blasted him and his friends with liquid ectoplasm while they were sitting and eating lunch. It was then that Danny began plotting his revenge.
That night he when ghost and lead the GIW on a while goose chase. Did danny take them across state lines? Yes. Did he manage to pull a massive following of these creeps? Also yes.
Did he plan for his target-the guy he had been leading them to- to already be in cuffs when he arrived in Gotham? No. Not at all.
"Hey, uh..." the words died on his tongue as Batman- The Batman- turned to him with narrowed eyes. Mustering his will, he started again, "Could you let him out? Just for a little bit?"
"No."
"Aw, Cmon!"
Condiment King began raving about something, but Danny didn't particularly care to pay attention. "If you're not going to let him out, then can you at least call the rest of the paw patrol? I wanna ask if they wanna throw mud at evil secret organization people. For enrichment." Danny gave his best, most cheeky smile for extra measure.
the world is so fucked up and i can't help but think the damage is irreparable when i see people talking about how unusual and prudish it is to wait six to ten dates before having sex with someone. ten dates??? roughly like twenty five hours of interaction????? ten old timer burgers and mango iced teas from chilis equals sex?????? the possibility of pregnancy, STDs, emotional devastation, lifelong consequences, not to mention just straight up the possibility of getting murdered, with a STRANGER you have hung out with for maybe like two months???? and that's a LONG TIME???? and if you feel weird about that and don't want to do that that makes you NOT HETEROSEXUAL????? THATS AN ORIENTATION???? BECAUSE ITS SO OUTSIDE OF THE NORM OF HUMAN BEHAVIOR ????? i hate all of you i hate you i hate you i hate you every day i hate and I hate and I hate you
There's this way of doing female-ness in Christianity that I call "pastel flower journal Christianity." I've got nothing against pastel flower journals per se, but for some reason people believe it's the end all and be all of female spirituality, and I think it's a real disservice towards young Christian women.
One of these days I'd like to start a prayer-and-reading group or something for young women, but there would be no floral themes or over-focus on how "God thinks you're beautiful even if the world doesn't" (a true statement, but it's wayyyyy too often the focus in women's spiritual reading). Instead we would be reading:
Seneca's Letters from a Stoic
Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning
Sheed's A Map of Life
Portions of Pieper's book on leisure
Kreeft's Three Philosophies of Life
Guardini's The Lord (or something similar)
Therese's Story of a Soul
and some select portions of the Nicomachean Ethics.
(Also they're all getting the porn talk. I don't know why we give the porn talk to young men but not young women. There's this idea that women don't use porn and they only need the talk about "guarding their heart." Bullshit. There's porn on the YA shelves of Barnes and Nobles and before that there were bodice rippers. Young women need the porn talk too.)
Every young woman needs to be getting a basic grounding in virtue ethics, logic, natural law, scholastic philosophy and Biblical hermeneutics if they're going to get by in today's spiritual landscape. Enough faffery and emotionalism in young women's spiritual education! Give them real food to chew on, not pasty sentimentalism!
Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.
"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."
translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"
It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!
Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.
Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?
Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.
The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.
Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.
It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.
I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.
He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.
Okay consider Bruce Wayne is the very well known bankroller for the Justice League. Batman is still part of the league, but they don’t know he’s Bruce Wayne. So, due to Bruce Wayne being such a well known figure and very obviously connected to the Justice League, that has kinda made him a target for certain people which means the Justice League has decided to assign one of their members to help keep him safe. Insert notorious billionaire fighter Superman becoming the part time bodyguard of Bruce Wayne in this epic superbat romance