đź“ş
Meta-irony is the fantastical pallet in which I choose to paint my world.
I find myself following confusing paths to strange allusions.
Sentences that switch back on themselves and examine the writer for meaning,
And truly burn them during a burial at sea to sink beneath waves of witticisms and filler words
Like, it’s, okay, um, well, god; physical eye rolls careen over bodies of the learnedÂ
And silence is resented.Â
Seek visual silence and youre staring into space
I seek the stimulation of little scrolling stories and their sixty second arcs
The recaps of art I will only ever see from this side of the fence Â
Obscured by toggles and buttons. UX and UI blurring my experience and sharpening my understanding
Trapped in a cage of something else’s design, in someone else’s device
What I hold is not my own. It is not of me, it has grown attached to me.
A leech I love so dearly we share skin. A parasite I make space for.
My mind has holes where morals should be. Blasted out by years of prank videos
Of multi-channel networks, family vlogging channels, relationship advice gurus, discord moderators
I am the seed sown by excitement for lazer collections, gmod idiot box, and home made stop motion lego Star Wars parody music videos
Perverted in bad faith at the hands of a digital monster let loose by its creatorÂ
To put the potential for profitability through exploitation in the hands of the proletariat too occupied by dreams of influence to see how they are being led to the altar by the collar.
Asked to sacrifice time or spirit or soul to be left hollowed out by the house before it inevitably wins
The will is no match for the cold, mechanical force of algorithms whose nature is dictated by watch times
One sided engagement over engaged interaction
I watched too much YouTube as a kid and now I know everythingÂ
Related Recs
piece that explores our collective relationship with algorithmically driven platforms and theorizing why non-algorithmically driven platforms haven't caught on yet (PI.FYI mentioned ‼️). some of the references and moments in the writing style makes this article feel hollow and generic, but the overall conceit is engaging. also this article (and the general public alike) keep saying tumblr is dead but tumblr is very alive for me personally.
"Just kidding. There is no pure place: we crave the end because it seems cleaner on the other side. We all live,and have always lived, in the muck—even and especially after death. Download the niche app, participate in the empty-ish forum. Labor to make the experience you want. Labor to animate a human internet."
Mar 6, 2024
đźš«
started writing this a few hours ago when i first saw this ask, then decided against posting but i've since changed my mind. there really is no justification for it outside of entitlement. even from a selfish lens, there's no long term benefit to its usage. it harms the world and culture in more ways than one.
a.) the water and energy usage that isn't a secret at this point. "no ethical consumption under capitalism" yadda yadda and yeah corporations are extremely culpable in the state of the environment but there really is no need for chatgpt and the planet is already too delicate at the moment.
b.) the exploitation of workers in the global south. this program is not just a computer figuring it all out, there are in fact humans behind it. it reminds me of the acceptance of fast fashion and how people have the tendency to divorce the idea of the garment worker from the garment they wear when all clothing is handmade in some way, shape or form. you need hands to man a sewing machine, you need human eyes to moderate content. also, content moderation can be a thankless job with psychological repercussions.
c.) the erosion of social skills, humanity and media literacy...this one is very personal. like, you have a cushy email job but can't write an email? you need a computer and a worker in kenya to get paid a dollar an hour to figure out a daily routine for you? i've seen the program churn out blatantly incorrect information. fine tuning a prompt or chat or whatever to give you the exact (possibly incorrect) answer you need isn't really that much less work than sharpening your research skills by cracking open a dictionary or using boolean search keys in google. again, the main issue with this kind of stuff is the entitlement to convenience, with no thought towards the repercussions within and outside of us. we are losing major recipes (critical thinking and media literacy) here, people!
i probably did an iffy job are coherently articulating my thoughts here but i am in fact, human. and that’s the beauty of it all.
Oct 1, 2024
This zine by Juliana Sekai on YouTube.
I consider this app one of my digital safe spaces 🙂‍↕️ I’ve been trying to reclaim my space online and don’t rely on likes or algorithms to enjoy my time online.
Feb 1, 2025
Top Recs from @a2den
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I could live better if I tried
My sink would have fewer dishes
The thought of eating would not cause my body to feel tired and weak
I dream of the taste of fresh fruit but all I can manage are fried pre packaged frozen disks of various substances
Fruit never stays
It deflates in my refrigerator
What was six apples becomes three, becomes piles of fruity flesh
Carcasses rotting like innocence in the glow of a small white bulb
Watching the life leave, confined to a cheap plastic cubicle
The spirit was never there to begin with
All I am ever allowed is dead
Brought from the store to my refrigerator like from an accident to a morgue
To stay cold
Dec 29, 2024
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My mind is made of bubbles
Synapses pop here and there
Take me in different directions
Through alleyways and down steep stairs
My emotions come and go like the mornings
receding tide
Shift like piss swift dribbling down drainage pipes and play-place slides
My words are drool upon your feet
My eyes are hung like frozen coals
Or snot that freezes and puddles
In jacket arms, on brand new clothes
The mirror is a needle but these ropes are all the same
I built my house on a rock in sands so that I can be displaced by strange rogue waves
Sometimes screaming doesn’t help
Today I can’t talk at all
Self harm gets only a couple chuckles when friends come round to call
My loves tears taste like cinnamon
I can’t swallow without spitting up
Ones once loved don’t talk to me because my medicine makes me less fun
I cry every other night over folks I chose to hang around
My room is set on fire every time I say something and don’t like how it sounds
Good grief, bang the drum all day
Dec 29, 2024