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.
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Having bpd to me is like I'm the loneliest person on the planet, no matter how many people I talk to, no matter how many connections I make or have, I'm a lonely void who will die alone. I have to be talking to someone or with someone every second of every minute of every day. I love people so much, I need people. There's so many people out there with different things to teach you. And then, if I have to talk to one person for more than 6 seconds today, I'll kill them. I'll kill myself. I need to be left alone for the rest of the day, I need no one but myself to be happy. I don't want to partake in anything with anyone because it's all draining and taking out of my alone time. Everyone is the same, they're all boring and self-absorbed. Every conversation feels like I'm forcing myself to be actively present. I just want to be alone in my room with nothing or no one. I don't see a future where I'm happy with anyone other than being by myself.
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I’m going to Rome next week & ofc some in the group want to throughly Vatican & thanks to you I’m ready yes let’s go on the Machete & Vasco tour instead of internally monologuing about Ugh This Institution. I mean still ugh-this-institution but with mentally projected appetizing dogmen. And beautiful architecture of course etc etc. So, cheers.
Oh that's so cool! It's actually really flattering to hear you're planning to go see the Vatican just so you can visualize my dog men in their natural habitat.
I hope you have a wonderful trip!
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Deeva Årud - Club Wear Voice Lines
When Summoned: Lights dimmed, tension building up… Are you ready to feel our rhythm?
Summon Line: Playing music with friends is fun, I’m glad to be here even though I’m starting to feel a bit nervous.
Groooovy!!: We’d be delighted to see you at our next show. Spotting a familiar face among the crowd is always nice.
Home: “Let’s rock and roll”, as some would say.
Home Idle 1: I joined the Pop Music Club on my second year. Perhaps it’s quite a drastic change from my previous club but… it’d be a lie to say I’m not enjoying my time here.
Home Idle 2: Most of the time I’m the one suggesting we should practice, but somehow Lilia, Cater and Kalim always distract me with all these unknown snacks and gadgets. Sometimes I have the feeling they do it on purpose…
Home Idle 3: I need to warm my hands, it’s hard playing an instrument when they’re cold.
Home Idle – Login: *humming Piece of My World* Ah- sorry, I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?
Home Idle – Groovy: I’ve been playing violin and other instruments since I was a kid. My family has always had a connection with music and I’ll gladly continue this legacy. Conveying your thoughts and feelings through sounds is quite satisfactory.
Home Tap 1: My first concert with them? Since it was the first time I’d be playing in front of many people, I knew I’d have a hard time trying to look at the audience. Cater noticed and told me to look at him so I could feel less overwhelmed… Let’s say I didn’t expect him to be so literal. His clones substituted the audience because no one came to see us.
Home Tap 2: Hm, my violin? Indeed, it’s not the same one I use at Mostro Lounge. An electric violin is more suitable for the club’s activities. I’m surprised you noticed it. That means someone’s been paying too much attention to the musician playing ambience music… That was a joke.
Home Tap 3: Kalim and I joined the club in the same year so I got to see how much he’s improved his drumming technique. It’s impressive. Certainly, Lilia’s been an excellent teacher to him.
Home Tap 4: I like the idea of having customized masks for our performances. Maybe I should mention it once we have enough funds.
Home Tap 5: I recently accepted to do some vocals just for our club sessions. You can come see us, but please refrain from telling everyone else. At the moment, I only feel comfortable singing for a few people.
Home Tap – Groovy: When it comes to a band like this many wouldn’t think of a violinist, but that actually gives songs an interesting feeling, don’t you think?
Duo:
[DEEVA]: Ready for a shocking performance, Cater?
[CATER]: Ready as ever, Dee-chan!
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given that i've ran this blog for as many years now i think i should get much credit for this being what, only the third dick joke i've ever made here hdfkhkj
anyways. there's this point in the story where vash and wolfwood have to go their separate ways for a while, but neither of them are dealing with it particularly well
(image id below the cut since it's a longer one)
[image ID: a rough, doodley 5 panel digital comic of vash and meryl from trigun, but from my leaden skies au where they've both been lightly redesigned to fit into the setting of monster hunter. vash is a wyverian with long pointed ears, wearing a red coat with gold trim and buttons. meryl is a human wearing a beret as seen on other guild girls, but her all-white outfit is a practical two-piece blouse and shorts set. the whole comic is comprised of warm colors, orange and yellow and dark purple
panel 1: vash sitting in the foreground at a brown desk covered in candles and books, with a book opened in front of him that he flips through with a bored expression and his cheek resting against his hand. he appears to be in a library, lit by candles on dark grey chandeliers hung from the ceiling. meryl is in the background stretching up to reach a book high on a shelf, and beside her is a table which is also covered in candles and several tall stacks of books
panel 2: a closeup of vash's face as his eyes widen and his ears prick up. something in the book has apparently caught his attention
panel 3: a closeup of the page vash was looking at, an illustrated info sheet about the flying wyvern, khezu. a candle in the table brightly illuminates the colored page
panel 4: meryl has come around by vash's shoulders with a stack of books held in her arms. she quirks a brow as she looks over vash's shoulder at the book. vash has a neutral, hard to read look on his face, but his ears are still up and his eyes are still shiny and wide as he seems to consider the page for a while
panel 5: a yellow word bubble comes from vash, who huffs a long sigh and says, "maybe i should call him...". his head has tipped to the side as he rubs his neck and frowns, blushing a little with his ears drooping. meryl physically recoils from him and her face scrunches up in disgust, saying, "eww" and, "there's something wrong with you"
end ID.]
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