truly is a beautiful masterpiece of modern art that an online community largely fueled by fandom and media analysis has come full circle into creating a detailed and thorough pastiche, via gifsets and faux analysis essays and letterboxd reviews and more, of a "forgotten 1970s film classic" that does not actually exist. Goncharov (1973) (the memetic phenomenon) has quickly become one of the most biting statements about the current state of art and its consumption. A work of art that exists not in and of itself, but as a discussion of itself. an analysis of itself. An appreciation of itself. pure unadulterated simulacrum.
two guys having a conversation about their friend who uses any pronouns but they're very clearly trying to outdo each other in obscurity with each pronoun used
Story goes, a couple of years ago I digital painted this accursed image:
I don’t visit tumblr all that much these days but today I did, and I found a comment that said something along the lines of “Is this the original Ricardo Megamind meme?” and I was like “WHAT MEME?”. So I googled it and:
MY NAME IS MARLENA SIDOR. I AM (or was until my tools broke) A FREELANCE DIGITAL ARTIST FROM POLAND. AND I PAINTED THIS SH**
I don’t mind it being a meme. It’s a fanart. I painted it for fun and because I really like that movie. I see this entire thing as a form of flattery. Also, you’re welcome, since this may be the closest you will ever see of a “live-action” Megamind (and considering how all the recent remakes of old classics are, it may be for the best).
I only want to know one thing, WHO THE F** IS THIS RICARDO?
I caught you thinking about it again.
You want to constellate the stars,
set the moon in the sky
and the rain just above your shell.
Did you know snails can write, too?
Apparently words can be slower to trace
when you are so glued
Have you ever found a writing or a drawing you don't remember making? Well I found a poem written two years ago that I must've left as a draft. I don't know how it was supposed to end, what the meaning was supposed to be, the person (or thing?) I'm adressing, or even the theme. I don't know how to feel about this ngl.
legitimately my first feminist awakening as a ten year old child was realizing that girls were expected to respect “boy stuff” but boys were never expected to respect “girl stuff”
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?
D'entre totes les estrelles,
em sabia la més freda
i llunyana.
Les mans tapaven el blanc del cel
i m'encongien en un mar negre
「just llavors vaig veure més mans tapant el mateix sol– milers de mans,
cadascuna la més singular
i més llunyana i més freda.」
Quin joc de llums més únic,
el veure que algú sent el mateix que tu,
i que tot i que siguis a anys llum de distància
i que no el puguis abraçar,
encara li puguis dir:
"vols ser amic meu?"
(coming to terms with a snail)
I've stared at every corner
and listened to the same dull buzz for hours.
When a sound grows loud outside
you won't need to cover your antennas–
I know you like rain.
Can you hug other snails?
And eat the lips of leaves,
and tell me what they taste like?
Would you do that- for us who can't walk.
describing my relationship to someone by introducing them to people as "an old wound"