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As AI art gets harder to clock, I feel like we are going to need to have a discussion about attribution and it's probably going to bum some people out.

Because the surest way to avoid platforming, reblogging, or encouraging AI art posting is to know where every image you share originated and that's 1) boring, tedious research and 2) extremely limiting in what you feel you can reblog. But if unattributed images never gets traction, people will start attributing their images.

I've been guilty of this in the past, but for a while now it's been my policy that if I can't verify the origin, I don't share the image. That goes for stuff like screen grabs of headlines too -- more than once I've avoided spreading misinformation by saving a post to research before I reblog, then seeing the post refuted before I've been able to verify it.

And I usually try to attribute photos I take -- case in point, the "woman with shrimp" post gets a lot of attention but not one comment about it being AI, despite it being pretty similar to something you'd get from an AI. That's because I clearly state it's in a museum and link to its catalogue page.

I'm not saying this to scold anyone -- I think yelling at the Internet to cite its sources is very much a losing game -- but because I don't see this discussed much. We're such fertile ground to be fooled by AI art because we've grown accustomed to not questioning the origins of any given image. And of course I also want to encourage both OPs to attribute their images and rebloggers to verify unattributed ones.

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me, a smooth talker, with my lifemate, @hereeatthiskitten , the woman i live with, the woman whose bed i share, on our regularly scheduled ditch-the-kids-night:

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Meta doesn't want you to know about Sarah Wynn-Williams book Careless People. So much so they got the courts involved so she can't promote herself. Would be a shame if a bunch of people not tied up in court promoted it for her…

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Margret: Sure Frank was annoying but at least he'd take it up the ass Hawkeye: truer words have never been spoken local woman horrified to learn that her 1950s military husband wasn't doing a bit. Oops realized that i was suppost to have hawkeye say the last line but i can't be bothered to fix that.

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Source

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And *every single thread* was spun by hand, using some form of spindle.

It doesn’t look that exciting, but this linen is from the New Kingdom (ca. 1492–1473 B.C.)

Thinking about it for too long makes me feel absolutely insane.

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Trump basically declared disabled people ‘unfit to work’ as he put it by revoking the Equal Employment Opportunity Law of 1965. It means employers no longer have to legally give accommodations to disabled employees. This will render so many Americans jobless and barely anyone is talking about it because disabled people like me are treated as expendable.

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"You can say that [orangutans] are not dependent on social support and approval, and if you admire this in them, that an orang is irredeemably his own person, 'the most poetic of the apes', researcher Lynn Miles told me once in an unguarded moments. What she had in mind was the difference between orangs and chimps in the way they carry on their discourse with the world.

Chimps are much admired for their tool use and for their problem-solving relationship with things as they find them...the orang is, let us say, not so replete with enterprise. Give an orangutan the hexagonal peg and the several shapes of hole, and then hide behind the two-way mirror and watch how he engages with the problem.

And watch and watch and watch--because he does not engage with the problem. He uses the peg to scratch his back, has a look-see at his right wrist, makes a half-hearted and soon abandoned attempt to use his fur as a macramé project, stares dreamily out the window if there is one and at nothing in particular if not, and the sun begins to set. (The sun will also set if you are observing a chimp, but the chimp is more amusing, so you are less likely to mark the moment in your notes. An orang observer has plenty of time to be a student of the vanities of sunset.)

You watch, and the orang dreams...when casually and as if thinking of something else, the orang slips the hexagonal peg into the hexagonal hole. And continues staring off dreamily."

Vicki Hearne, "The Case of the Disobedient Orangutans"

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can’t sleep, thinking about Fraser and Ray kowalski holding hands in alleys and kissing underwater. Both of them like “sometimes just to myself, I pretend we are married and hold his hand slightly longer than necessary” they are soooo stupid, thank god they run off into the sunset together

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"i'm wearing a shirt i made myself. out of yarn I made myself. ...out of fiber i did not make myself. so really, did i really even do anything?"

my children, in unison: "yes!"

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3x01 Burning Down the House | Continuous

THIS IS ALL ONE SHOT!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS ALL. ONE SHOT.

A nearly two-minute walk and talk in the precinct set with NO CUTS. For TWO MINUTES.

This is TWO FULL YEARS before The West Wing, which popularized the long hallway single shot walk and talk.

Genuinely hard to convey how difficult a shot like this is to choreograph with so many different moving pieces. As one continuous take this shot is WILD. It means everything—including the push in to Ray and Elaine, the pull back out to include Fraser stepping precisely back into frame, the ACTUAL LIVE DOG, the walk into the bullpen with all the extras cutting in front of camera, the gag with the ink—all of that is in ONE GO, NO FUCK UPS.

INCLUDING!! One of the best pieces of acting in the ENTIRE SERIES right here:

THE love at first sight moment. In the MIDDLE of all this.

My favourite thing about this is imagining Gordon Pinsent standing patiently in the bullpen waiting for his moment for the 45 times it took to get the first ninety seconds of this shot clean.

Oh I will never be done being obsessed with this show. The level of stagecraft involved here alone is insane. Paul Gross the man you are,

Happy 27th birthday today, Burning Down the House (Sept. 14, 1997)!! You are still iconic🇨🇦🍁

due South Long Shots [one] [two] [three]

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I’m really surprised how few people are talking about the autistic subtext in I saw the tv glow. I feel like so much of this movie is about what it’s like getting lost in a hyperfixation. It’s about feeling like you’re not meant to exist in the world you’re in because it wasn’t built for you. It’s about how sometimes fictional characters will do more for you than the people in your real life. It’s about having a meltdown in public and everyone ignoring you because they see you as crazy and beyond help and then having to apologize for it. It’s about feeling more real in a world that only exists in your head, no sees you for you, no one understands exactly what you are. So much of this movie is about disability and mental illness and how isolating those experiences can be. I’m screaming.

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thinking about how maddy/tara mentions working at build-a-bear in the monologue. thinking about how the most important part of the bear-stuffing ritual at build-a-bear is giving your stuffed animal a heart. thinking about tara and isabel's hearts in the freezer that mr. melancholy took from them. how the beauty of the pink opaque came from owen and maddy bestowing meaning upon it. can anyone hear me.

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related note that part of what I think jane does really well with tv glow is it is incredibly sympathetic to people staying in the closet while also not rejecting the responsibility they have for their own unhappiness. the things you do to self-soothe aren’t automatically righteous and can be counterproductive to your own liberation!

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One of my exes was a game designer, and I would play test her games for her, and she had this horror game where you're house-sitting and being hunted by, like, a deer monster. And I get really freaked out by horror games. My instinct is to just sort of do nothing when I think doing something will cause me to be scared, as opposed to horror movies, where I'm just along for the ride. She'd watch me play and say, "You know, doing nothing is a choice, and the scary things will happen anyway. The only way through it is by playing."

That's the same feeling I Saw The TV Glow gave me. It's a movie about how doing nothing is a choice and even though scary things might happen, being paralyzed and passive and giving up your agency will just make you feel more powerless against the things that are out to hurt you.

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This is from a longer post I wrote about I saw the tv glow but just posting this bit on its own bc of the conversation around the movie I guess:

The point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in.

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What if she was right? What if I was someone else? Someone beautiful and powerful? Buried alive and suffocating to death on the other side of a television screen?

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