no hate to the saltburn editors (you’re all doing gods work) but i need the digital release to come out ASAP, all of the saltburn edits are all of the exact same clips to the exact same music just with different timing
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.
Pac: Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok? See you on the other side, big boy.
Fit: [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. [Fit tries to lasso Pac] You're coming with me.
Pac: No, I need to leave!
Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!
Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?
Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?
Ironmouse: You guys, we don't have time to be gay right now.
[ Full Transcript ↓ ]
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Pac: I'm just here to say goodbye to you, Fit.
Fit: Goodbye? We're not– we're gonna be fine, we're going to get out of here, don't worry.
Aypierre: Yeah, don't worry!
Pac: I know, but like– I will sleep until the end, you know? I will pass through this moment sleeping, man. I won't be able to be awake for the moment.
Fit: [Laughs] You know, it's– I mean, if that's how you wanna go, but– I mean, that- I mean, isn't that bed kind of like.... I don't know, it's–
Pac: No no, I will be staying on the sofa, you know, I will be staying on the sofa.
Fit: Oh the sofa. Ok, that's a nice sofa! Yeah, that is a pretty nice sofa.
Pac: Yeah, it's a nice sofa right? No, yeah– I'm going to stay on the sofa, you know? So, since I will be going Fit... [Pac starts tossing Fit all his items]
Aypierre: [Not paying attention to their conversation] Is that bigger cell? I don't think it's a bigger- biggest one.
Fit: Oh... Thank you Pac, thank you.
Pac: Everything you need to survive, ok?
Fit: Wow.
Aypierre: Wow.
Pac: And if you need this one also, maybe, who knows? [Throws him more items]
Fit: Ohhh, well hey– just take this to remember me by, ok? [Tosses him a photo of himself – the same one Aypierre was carrying all day yesterday]
Pac: [Laughs] Ok, I will sleep holding the picture you know, like this. You know, I will dream about you, Fit. And I hope this is gonna be good dreams. I see you in the other side. Good luck, my friend.
Fit: The other side... Yeah, you know, yeah, we– we– you know? It's been an honor, Pac. It's been an honor, you know?
Pac: Yeah, for me too, you know? Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok?
Fit: Ok.
Pac: See you on the other side, big boy.
Fit: I will sing your praise– Oh yeah, hey– [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. You're coming with me.
Pac: No, I need to leave!
Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!
Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
Fit: Sorry, there's–
Pac: I'm sorry!
Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?
Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?
Ironmouse: You guys, you guys– we don't have time to be gay right now, come on. There's no time.
Pac: No, there's no time! Oh, goodbye Fit...
Fit: Ok, c'mon, no no no, come on, we got this we got this!
NGL I have STRONG opinions about digital releases omitting the letters to the editor section of older comics. I feel like the letters are a part of comic history and should be aggressively preserved.