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.
you create because you're greedy.
18K notes
·
View notes
I love how Sirius and Regulus are both huge drama queens, but in two completely different way.
At the slightest inconvenience, Sirius would roll on the floor and whine, demanding 100% of his friends' attention, while Regulus would simply go drown himself in the lake.
2K notes
·
View notes
Tim swears Phantom could’ve been a Titan. Maybe he should be, at this point. They have enough in common to justify it.
“Jeez,” Phantom groans. Abruptly, he drops the levitation and hits the roof without sound. He stretches out on his back like a cat, sore muscles straining in a way Red Robin deeply relates to. “Fighting the living sucks. At least with ghosts I can swing as hard as I need. Already dead means they get back up! But mortals? Way too squishy.”
Red Robin huffs in agreement. “Yeah,” he says. After a moment’s consideration, he lies down, too.“It’s a hundred times harder than people realize. Batman’s always going on about perfect control in training. About how to have it, you gotta be twice as skilled as the other guy. Even without your super-strength, I worry sometimes.”
“How do you do it?” Phantom asks. In a move only achievable to those without bones, or perhaps Dick Grayson, he twists himself over. Gloved hands cup his cheeks. His legs kick back and forth, like they’re gossiping at a slumber party. “I mean. You said you train, so obviously there’s the physical ‘how.’ But how do you keep your emotions nonlethal? How do you keep yourself in check, make sure you’re pulling back?”
“I mean,” says Red Robin. “Murder is illegal, so.”
Phantom sighs. “Yeah. Maybe it’s easier for you.”
… Hm. Maybe Red Robin should redo Phantom’s risk assessment.
Before he can raise too high an eyebrow (though even moving that muscle smarts, ow), Phantom elaborates.
“Ecto-based entities have trouble with their emotions,” he explains. “It’s easy to get lost in an Obsession, or a big feeling like grief. The rest of the world… it bleeds away. Helps to have another emotional anchor to keep it at bay. I use fear.”
“Fear?” Red Robin glanced over.
“Sometimes sheer stubbornness,” Phantom admits. “But a lot of it is fear.”
With a considering frown, he drops his head atop his arms. Exhaustion, regret, reluctance play out on his face. For someone the Bats know next to nothing about, Phantom’s body language is an open book.
“I saw, like, an alternate future version of myself once where I become evil and try to take over the world? So now I gotta be good to keep that from happening. The fear of that future keeps the pressure on me. Makes me focus up. Y’know?”
Tim sits up. “Seriously?”
Phantom nods. “Uh-huh. Kinda bizarre, I know—”
“What the hell,” says Tim. Three consecutive days together and a concussion must loosen his lips, because holy shit, no way. “Dude! Me too!”
“Huh? Seriously?” says Phantom.
“Yeah! I totally saw myself turn evil. Like, Batman but with guns. Guns Batman. I had to fight him and everything. He tried to kill my friends and erase my memory to make sure I couldn’t un-invent him by going back to change the past?”
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Oh my god, me too!”
happy wips wednesday!
4K notes
·
View notes
SPOILERS BELOW
I keep thinking about Niko becoming the Principal, and I think it's really important for the show thematically. Rant incoming.
Something I really appreciate about Dead Boy Detectives is that it doesn't shy away from how unfair and unjust the world can be. Edwin is sent to Hell along with his bullies on a "technicality." Charles is murdered because he tried to save someone. And it doesn't stop there. In Port Townsend, they save a little girl, and a witch spends the rest of the season trying to get revenge. The Lost and Found department is only able to catch them because they save the Devlin family; the Night Nurse can't get the paperwork approved until she learns their exact location.
In the world of DBDA, doing the right thing isn't necessarily rewarded. Sometimes, it's actively punished. But the show is always clear that it's important to keep trying, to keep being kind, and to keep connecting with other people anyway.
So when Niko says, "You never know when the good you do will come back around," she's not saying that the world is suddenly going to be fair. She's not saying that "the universe" is going to magically reward them for good behavior. She's saying that they made a difference in her life, and as a result, now she can be there to make a difference in theirs. The world may not be fair, but WE can be there to help each other. And I think that's beautiful.
1K notes
·
View notes