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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Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie hears him. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens- to Steve grumbling to himself when his hair doesn’t sit quite right, who starts to hum and whisper some catchy song. Eddie turns his sleepy gaze onto Steve as he shuffles around their room- watching quietly as he slips on his clothes, his shoes, a simple chain with Eddie’s ring around his neck. A warm, affectionate smile breaks across his face. Before he leaves, Steve glances at what he expects to be a sleeping Eddie, but instead, he’s met with a rasped, ‘Hey.’ Eddie sits himself up, stretches his arm across Steve’s side of the bed, and reaches, fingers wiggling. Steve crosses the room to cradle his face.
Their foreheads press, noses bump, and Steve brushes his fingers across scars and dimples.
He breathes a quiet,
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
Eddie huffs a tired laugh,
‘You know I never mind.’
Because, yeah.
Every morning Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie always hears him.
( another one from the poll | WIP )
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ok, i cant resist the urge to make a post about it after all, especially since it's related to a post i made prior
one of my favorite moments in trimax is By Far this part in chapter 35
[ID: Two pages from Trigun. The first starts with Wolfwood thinking, "Now that I think 'bout it, it may be one of the major differences between our species." That deep rooted dear I felt on the ship…" He thinks of Vash crying blood and, swearing, wonders, "Is he the one who can save humankind? That monster?" Wolfwood is briefly shown in resolution before someone calls, "Hey, Wolfwood!" and he looks up with surprise.
Vash sits with a smile at the edge of a rooftop, backed by the Fifth Moon and its prominent crater. Vash asks with a smile, "Just coming back now? You're a bit of a night owl, huh?" Wolfwood looks taken aback and wary. End ID]
Right Here. Vash is just sitting there, smiling like normal, but he's got the backdrop of the damage he caused on the moon set Perfectly behind him. it's a glaring reminder to Wolfwood of who exactly he's dealing with here, and that TERRIFIES him.
& the fact that Wolfwood still remembers that moment of crying blood as a moment of true fear. because for all the cheer Vash shows in the average moment, Wolfwood just recently saw him nearly lose control Again (at the Dragon's Nest). the second time he witnessed it, & the third time he would know about.
Vash is a walking atomic bomb with multiple charges. even with how cheerful & kind he is, he's shown Multiple Times that he does not have full control. he is decidedly something different, something Hazardous to humans, and Wolfwood knows this very very painfully.
for all that Wolfwood loves Vash, he is also terrified of him. and at this point in the story, that terror is potent enough to nearly eclipse his affection for Vash.
leading to some of the next most iconic pages:
[ID: The next page starts with Wolfwood standing behind the sitting Vash, his expression hard and the moon bright behind him. Vash seems sad and has one eye open. A close-up focuses on Wolfwood looking down.
Wolfwood thinks, "So easy to pull the trigger. So easy to remove half the problem." Another close-up with bright lighting obscures his face but for one eye. Then Vash turns around curiously and asks, "What's up?" Wolfwood sits behind him and says "Nothin'. Come on. Let's go." Vash seems surprised as Wolfwood scolds, "Don't get yerself tangled up in every little skirmish ya see. It'll be pointless if ya get yerself killed before ya meet him." End ID]
the manga frames it like Vash doesn't know Wolfwood was pointing the gun at him, but I think he did know. he's freakishly perceptive over and over again throughout the story. he HAS to be in order to survive like he has. he'd hear the movement of the gun & sense Wolfwood behind him...
he'd know. i really think he knew.
but he doesn't do anything about it. there is zero fear in his face. he turns to look at Wolfwood curiously, a bit confused, but not afraid. he never once thought that Wolfwood would shoot him. there's full faith and trust there in that moment.
Wolfwood pretends that nothing happened, & Vash lets him. they both move on, not talking about it, because they never talk about Anything of substance like this (not until much, Much later).
overall, it's just such a great example of their relationship's development. Wolfwood's fear & Vash's trust that he won't act on it... it's just. Man.
(EDIT: people have made some good points about how Vash's expression when Wolfwood points the gun at him shows that he probably did know and YEAH that's a good point! & probably why I was so certain he knew lol, I just hadn't realized it myself)
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