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.
the question came to mind of "in your ship, how might the larger/stronger party pick up or carry the smaller one?" and these were the answers i came to
like put the whole cannibalism/murder thing aside yk damn well my ass wouldn’t be smart enough to figure that out.
but like just the fact that he wears suits constantly would piss me off. and ik he’d judge my food but like i’m a poor whore tf do you want me to do? spread my legs? oh wait! you’d somehow manage to judge me for that too!
get the fuck out of my face regina george you aren’t in high school anymore focus on YOUR DAMN SELF.
The coast disappeared when the sea drowned the sun / I knew no words to share with anyone — Different Names for the Same Thing, Death Cab for Cutie
HiJack Language Barrier AU
Read on AO3
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The biggest warmest thank yous to @envy-of-the-gods and my sibling for beta-ing and reading despite their busy schedules, it means the world that you’re willing to put up with my beloved cringe crossover slash. And a million thank yous to @alkalinefrog for the cringe nights and constantly inspiring me throughout the writing process. Y’all are amazing ❤️
I know the Zelda Timeline is hardly the most popular thing out there, but for me, it's always been endlessly fascinating. Everything is the same. It's all different. It's linear. It's cyclical. It branches and twists and comes back together. It disregards its predecessors. It can't let them go. It thrashes against change. It can't stay the same.
Every game is a reboot.
But they're also not.
I think the story of The Legend of Zelda is the epitome of narrative doublethink. In order to truly buy in, you must accept the simultaneous facets that none of the games matter to one another and that they all do. They're the same story. They're absolutely not.
The thing about the timeline, to me, by being both codified and nebulous, is what ties this cow tools of a narrative together. It's a puzzle without a box. It's total fucking nonsense, but so is reality. Things won't ever truly make sense, but what if they did. What if we took it from a new angle and... hmm. No. That won't work
Or maybe...
Ultimately, the Zelda Timeline is quite simply a farcical creative writing prompt. A dare. A challenge. To take these pieces not designed to fit together and give them order. Do the writers themselves care? Absolutely not. I do, though. So fuck it.
btw if ur wondering yes my adhd ass v much resents him even entertaining the concept of the memory issues that come w adhd being a reason he plagarized. idfc if he was quoting his therapist. he already has MOUNTAINS of harm towards minority communities under his belt. it takes some NERVE to add yet another already stigmatized by the spread of misinfo group to that pile. eat my adhd shit, asshole.
something that kind of bothers me about modern feelings toward the epic of gilgamesh is how it's been COMPLETELY watered down to being "gay". Bear with me as I explain.
this is more of an extreme example, but I see this take all the time (not the yaoi part. the gay lover part). it's boiled down to the fact that it's gay over literally anything else in the epic. Gilgamesh's lament to Urshanabi about Enkidu's loss is overshadowed by the fact that Gilgamesh is mourning his gay lover. Gilgamesh is on a journey because he lost his gay lover. Gilgamesh and Enkidu were gay.
Now I understand that with a modern lens, people tend to lock on to how unabashedly Gilgamesh mourns Enkidu, because it's gay and because it's the oldest written epic in human history. People feel deeply connected to the idea that people like them have been around since the dawn of literature. But placing exclusive focus on the nature of the relationship as gay, rather than why the relationship or its loss was important, erases the story the epic is trying to tell.
The Epic of Gilgamesh is a story about love, yes, but it is not a love story. It's about the fear of death, coping with loss, and desperation to stave off the inevitable. It's about the bonds of friendship, about hardship, coming to terms personal change and losing pieces of yourself as you learn and grow. It is about consequences, arrogance, death, second chances, mourning, yearning, loving and LIVING. The Epic of Gilgamesh is about the entire human experience and one man's struggle to accept it. What does it mean to have lived? What does it mean to have loved, and lost? What does it mean to die, and to be remembered? What does it mean to be human?
It is perfectly okay to find appreciation for the Epic because of Gilgamesh and Enkidu's relationship. But also understand that the world's oldest story is not about two gay men who loved each other. It is a story about being alive.