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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Thinking about the KaeyaJeanDiluc friendship where they grew up together and they were CLOSE & sure maybe Jean felt like Diluc & Kaeya were closer since they were brothers & sure maybe Kaeya felt like he had to keep secrets from the two of them bc they would never understand but they were like. A trio! A team!
& then Diluc’s 18th birthday comes around and everything goes to shit and Diluc LEAVES so they’re no longer KaeyaJeanDiluc but just Kaeya & Jean & in some ways Kaeya and Jean get closer because of it but there’s also a pronounced DISTANCE where Jean doesn’t know how to reach Kaeya anymore & Kaeya is even more determined not to tell Jean anything & they both lose themselves in their duties to Mondstadt while also missing Diluc and ALSO, despite everything, offering each other unconditional support
& then Diluc comes BACK & in addition to Kaeya & Jean there’s the shaky reestablishment of Jean & Diluc and Diluc & Kaeya but it’s not THE SAME. they’re no longer KaeyaJeanDiluc; Jean & Kaeya are knights and Diluc will never be a knight again & they all changed while Diluc was away & none of them know how to talk to each other anymore AND YET there’s still an undercurrent of trust!! Not fully, especially between Kaeya & Diluc, but Diluc still calls on Jean during the archon quest, trusting that she will keep their secrets even though as the acting grandmaster she should probably not. Jean says in her about Diluc voiceline that she understands why Diluc hates the knights & is working hard to make them an organization he can trust again. Kaeya covers for Diluc’s darknight hero escapades & fondly reminisces about their childhood in front of him. Diluc invited Kaeya to dinner at the winery & (afaik) never told anyone about Kaeya’s origins. Kaeya tells the traveler that they need to give Jean their full support and planned a birthday party for her. Jean left Kaeya in charge of Mondstadt when she went to the golden apple archipelago! On some level they recognize that their goals still align!! There’s still trust and love there but there’s also this gap between them that none of them know how to cross and I just!!!
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my post about Danver’s racism hits so much harder knowing now that she had an Indigenous son and she lost him, implicitly to someone white and drunk like the woman she arrests in an early episode. She made a life with a man she loved and she had a baby with him - someone she likely felt growing inside her, that was born with her eyes, that looked nothing else like her but was her baby. Her special little boy. And then this town, out of nowhere, stole him from her in the most horrific way. So love nothing. Protect no one. Let nobody in. Until Navarro with all her problems and her heart and her belief and that connection which allows her to see Holden, to tell Liz what he said, comes crashing in. And everything changes.
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So how do we think the twins managed to pull the “same man twice” shtick so good Normal overtly misidentified them? Like, Sparrow getting slapped and responding with a millisecond of rage and Normal going ‘oh that’s absolutely my dad’ when Lark is Known to be the angrier twin.. it has to be a convincing getup. I have some theories.
1. Dress Code includes short hair and no beard
2. They intentionally chose to dress differently knowing lark would be the one to meet them if they encountered each other
3. Lark’s disheveled state is how they Both wind up if they neglect grooming themselves.
Bonus: what was probably running through Lark’s head when Lincoln rolled an EIGHTEEN to slap him TWICE while he was trying to signal he was fully lucid.
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SET SIX - ROUND ONE - MATCH THREE
"Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate" (1997 - John Boskovich) / "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)" (1991 - Félix González-Torres)
ELECTRIC FAN (FEEL IT MOTHERFUCKERS): it makes me literally insane that’s all that’s left of him and he made sure it would stay remembered, something something the last trace of a breath immortalized the only way it could be. Feel it, motherfuckers. (courfeyracs-swordcane) (also submitted by callixton and weeweewhirlwind)
UNTITLED (PORTRAIT OF ROSS IN L.A.): It fucks me up SO MUCH. The artist's partner was named Ross, and died of AIDS in the same year this was created. The ideal weight is roughly the average of an adult man. The allegory there... people taking the candy, decreasing the weight, the same way people took away from Ross and every other victim of the AIDS crisis by refusing to help, to do anything at all. Except this has an "endless supply" of candy. People can take and take and it keeps coming back. They can't get rid of us forever. We will prevail and we will rebuild and I WILL be fucked up about this forever (ceaseless-rambler)
("Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate" is an electric fan encased in plexiglass with vinyl faux etching and a plexiglass base with casters by gay American artist John Boskovich--Stephen Earanbino's partner. It was the last item left in Stephen Earabino's estate after his death by AIDS and measures 56 7/8 x 22 3/4 x 12 1/2 in. (144.5 x 57.8 x 31.8 cm). It is held by The Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles.
"Untitled (Portrait of Ross in LA)" is a modern art installation consisting of wrapped candies (constantly removed and replaced) by gay Cuban-American artist Félix González-Torres after the death of his partner, Ross, by AIDS. The weight is equivalent to a healthy human male - approximately 175 lbs (79kg). It is located at the Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.)
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neuvillette's lore is actually insane. we all took one look at him and went "haha dragon🫵" but i significantly underestimated how big of a role he would play. he's the incarnation of the original hydro sovereign. he took back his rule right under the heavenly principles' nose. he's the one handing out hydro visions now (not even because he has to, he doesn't, he just grew so fond of humanity that he chooses to). he gave away the hydro gnosis bc he straight up doesn't need it. he's planning to DETHRONE ALL OF THE ARCHONS (in a few hundred years, when the traveler's not around to see it, so it won't be awkward for them). he's kind and soft-spoken. he's full of vengeful rage. he's a father to hundreds. he found his purpose after feeling lost for 500 years. skirk pulled him aside for a super-secret convo and when he saw us again he immediately spilled the tea. as far as i can tell, he spawned into existence fully formed. no other character can fucking compare
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here's the good news: you don't know what else you still have to learn about this world.
i've been here for almost three decades. i know a lot of things. i know a lot about nature. it can tell you lots of facts about flowers and trees and creatures. i am lucky to say i have spent a large portion of my life wandering around outside.
i didn't know the fog lifts until today. i thought it was just a saying; like how we say rain "peters out", or that "dawn breaks".
goblin and i were walking in a place called pine alley. these red pines all are old wood; they stretch high up. the path is wide and beautiful. the fog was snuggled against the ground in a warm fur. i was on a call with my brother, talking about a funeral.
i've been jaded recently. certain personal things have been going very badly. i'm stressed beyond the breaking point, because i hit the breaking point about 2 months ago and had to keep going. i recently ran out of room on my to-do list for a single day - and i wasn't even breaking down my tasks neatly.
but the fog lifted.
i'd never seen it do that. i didn't know it could happen so quickly. the curtain, slipping upwards, returning to the sky. my brother kept talking on the other end of the line. i had to interrupt him. holy shit, i said. fog actually lifts.
i've been living in foggy locations my whole life. i love fog. i love the gentle quiet peace that comes with it.
and here, in the trees beside a meadow, i felt the universe wink at me. see, it said, there's things even you keep learning.
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