being a manager sucks balls half the time but the cashier kids im in charge of trust me enough to dick around in front of me so ive been keeping a running list of the shit they say that makes me laugh randomly:
-"guys, is it cheating if you play fortnite with your ex" [4 seperate others, immediately]: "YES"
-"there must be like… infinite sentences"
-"bro what bro what the fuck bro what's that mean bro why'd you say that bro what" <distraught response to a girl randomly greeting him with 'hey there big boy' in an old timey transatlantic news reporter accent
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When I followed you earlier today and then realized this blog wasn't even two days old it made me feel like I invested in a startup.
Do you think if you did the lyrics for Fireflies by Owl City, your database would give us fireflies? (Will also accept owls. And there's a line about sheep too).
String identified:
t
t
t t a a
'Ca t' t a
A a ta
' t
t t ta a ta
' t a
Tat at at t
t' a t a tat ' at ta
Aa ' a
'Ca tg a t
'Ca ' gt a ta g
t ta gtg g
A t t t tac t ac
A tt a a
A c at
A c a t agg a ta
' t a
Tat at at t
t' a t a tat ' at ta
Aa ' a
'Ca tg a t
a a
a t a cac
(a ta aa )
'Ca c a ac
(a ta aa )
t ctg
(a ta aa )
' a t t t a a
T t
' 'ca at g
gt t a t a a
t ' a a
a gt a a
'Ca a a a t a a
' t a
Tat at at t
t' a t a tat ' at ta
Aa ' a
'Ca tg a t
a a
' t a
Tat at at t
t' a t a tat ' at ta
Aa ' a
'Ca tg a t
a a
' t a
Tat at at t
t' a t a tat ' at ta
Aa ' a
ca a a tg at t a
Closest match: Sepia lycidas genome assembly, chromosome: 36
Common name: Kisslip cuttlefish
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Give me a Simon Riley who's soft.
Give me a Simon who, when the guys ask him to run to the pub after a successful mission, turns them down. The reason he gives them is "because I just spent two months with you assholes", but everyone knows it's because he's too eager to get home to you to waste any more time.
Give me a Simon whose favorite place to be is with you in bed or on the couch, laying atop you like a massive weighted blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat as you massage his scalp. He constantly falls asleep like that, and he swears it's the only position he can sleep in that guarantees he won't have any nightmares.
Give me a Simon looks at you and, for the first time in decades, imagines a future for himself. He's never allowed it before - he's always been convinced that he'd die young and has always known he'd be grateful for it. But now, when he watches you smile back at him, he finds himself thinking of future years he never thought he'd want.
Give me a Simon who lets you trace his scars with your fingertips, and who starts to associate them less with the injuries that caused them and more with the sensations you give him. And all the while, he's looking at you like you hung the moon, the stars, and everything else in the sky.
Give me a Simon who has earned his reputation as a ghost, a phantom, a threat, but refuses to so much as raise his voice towards you.
Give me a Simon Riley who is completely and utterly yours, for as long as you will have him.
Give me a Simon Riley who will burn the world down at your feet to keep it that way.
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(click for higher quality!) draconified link concept ive been chipping away at this past week ..... here's my funny little compendium concept for him:
"A heroic spirit has taken the form of this bestial dragon. Unlike it's kin, this creature exhibits an extremely aggressive disposition. It appears highly territorial, and will relentlessly chase down those who disturb its skywide patrols - of which it seems to be endlessly searching for either a long-time vassal or foe. Unfortunately, it seems the spirit within has long since forgotten exactly who it was looking for…"
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the other night I had a dream that I was watching a new episode of a TV show I like and my fave male character takes his shirt off and he's got clearly visible top surgery scars. Absolutely no preamble or foreshadowing in previous episodes that this guy was trans just. there they are. and I was so overwhelmed by emotion that I had to stop the episode and get up and jab my finger at them bc the people watching with me had no idea what I was crying about. for context we do not have a TV, but a school-style projector onto a blank wall. so here's an artist's rendition of what it looked like (and how it felt)
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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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