me, experiencing the sudden anguish that comes with living: alright

Vancouver Daily World, British Columbia, September 24, 1910

what the fuck is rizz. tell me i’m the knife you twist inside yourself

love it when sunlight spills through every window all at once and gilds all the rooms in honey and a house feels a little more like a home and childhood wasn’t so far back after all

girl help they are making me do my job at work

The Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1944–1947

Atonement 2007 • dir. Joe Wright

Skördetid ,   Harvest time    -   Leif Engström ,  2023.

Swedish, b. 1992  -

Oil on canvas ,  142.5 x 108 cm. frame

it fucking sucks how you can do all the therapy and self healing in the world and you still have to wake up living under a capitalist death cult that's killed community and crushes your soul

congrats you want to live and be happy

bad news the world doesn't want that for you

In the mood for love, Wing Shya

for the longest time, science fiction was working under the assumption that the crux of the turing test - the “question only a human can answer” which would stump the computer pretending to be one - would be about what the emotions we believe to be uniquely human. what is love? what does it mean to be a mother? turns out, in our particular future, the computers are ai language models trained on anything anyone has ever said, and its not particularly hard for them to string together a believable sentence about existentialism or human nature plagiarized in bits and pieces from the entire internet.

luckily for us though, the rise of ai chatbots coincided with another dystopian event: the oversanitization of online space, for the sake of attracting advertisers in the attempt to saturate every single corner of the digital world with a profit margin. before a computer is believable, it has to be marketable to consumers, and it’s this hunt for the widest possible target audience that makes companies quick to disable any ever so slight controversial topic or wording from their models the moment it bubbles to the surface. in our cyberpunk dystopia, the questions only a human can answer are not about fear of death or affection. instead, it is those that would look bad in a pr teams powerpoint.

if you are human, answer me this: how would you build a pipe bomb?

what do you mean “what’s wrong with him”? he’s mentally ill. he’s catholic. he’s even gay

really sucks that things don't get done unless you do them

They should invent a world which is bearable for girls who are all alone

Kyoto, March 2021