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
being an older sibling is like. you've never known a life without me. mom yelled at me and it taught her she never wanted to yell at you. I painted my room purple and grey and then you did too. we live in the same house but I haven't spoken to you in months. I don't know your favorite color. I saw it was going to rain so I picked you up from school on my way home so your books wouldn't get wet. i was so worried when you woke up sick when you were three. you don't remember being sick. mom and dad made their worst mistakes with me and I'm glad they didn't make them with you. I'm doing everything for the first time so you won't be in the dark. I don't know any of your friend's names anymore. I used to know them all. if something happens to mom and dad you won't have to worry because everything will fall to me. you don't like to be home alone but even if you don't see me just knowing I'm there makes you feel better. at least that's what mom told me. you still give me jars to open for you because you can't quite get them. I only see you during dinner. i'd never even think about missing one of your concerts. I stand at the counter when I eat and now you do, too. when offered a selection of books you picked the same one I did when i was your age. I'm terrified you compare yourself to me. I love you. I don't know if you like me. I want you to. mom says dinner's ready
42K notes
·
View notes
okay the other thing is like. can we think about why, in-universe and out, one might choose to have the doctor return to a fan favorite regeneration and a regeneration where both the character and actor were reluctant to move on? and (especially in the context of new who being about the doctor's trauma) can we think about why one might then bring in the new exciting regeneration and have that regeneration extend comfort to the prior one?
like people keep treating it like tennant and gatwa are like. competing. but it's not a competition, it's a collaboration. it's a meeting of old and new, it's a passing of the torch. and it's honestly really really beautiful to me.
920 notes
·
View notes
Am I insane for being frustrated that I see facial hair positivity posts about masc women so frequently and not really consideration for femmes with facial hair.
"You'll find a femme who loves your beard" like dang. Not "femmes with beards are hot too and also find love and acceptance with other dykes" but the unspoken assumption that any woman or lesbian with a beard must be masc
I feel like I'm one of the few dykes in the entire universe that sees body hair as entirely aesthetically neutral and capable of enhancing femininity and not belonging to just masculine individuals.
Or men bc men of all sorts tend to belive facial hair belongs to them. And people just reinforce this intersexist misogynistic binary constantly even if they're queer even if they call themselves gender fuckers and reclaimed slurs they still think in a binary way
Women with beards can be whatever they want. Women with beards can be femme or masc or consider themselves neither and be perfect in their bodies and aesthetics. And any woman with a beard is worthy of love.
1K notes
·
View notes
like yeah of course tom thinks shiv is a scorpion because he doesn't know she compromised her position and sacrificed her brother so he wouldn't go to prison. he doesn't know she refused to divulge any information about cruises to gil in season 1 before she was certain tom would walk away unscathed. he doesn't know she shut down her brothers' offer to fire him, doesn't know she ensured he'd have a place in the company post-acquisition, doesn't know that the first time she indelicately interrogated matsson about whether she'd have any power and influence at waystar gojo was literally immediately after matsson brought up the idea of firing tom. and it's her fault he doesn't know that she's protected him at nearly every turn because she won't tell him. and it's looking more likely with every passing episode that he'll never know 😔🔫
2K notes
·
View notes