anime is a japanese colloquialism. march29
what distinguishes jazz from classical? what makes something classical-like or jazz-like? it's a large collection of things that collectively create identity.
(jazz typically uses a quartet of bass/drum/sax/piano, classical would be more likely to use woodwind/string/piano/cello in a quartet. but what about solo piano? jazz song structure typically is playing "the head"
then soloing for a while, then repeating the head and ending, but this formula is not always followed. jazz uses swing rythm and 7 chord harmony, classical uses counterpoint and triad chord harmony, but these can be defied and
they can keep their respective identities. everything that makes up a genre is superfluous.)
genres aren't really defined by one thing you can point at, they are fuzzy at the edges and formed from many seperate elements which can be added to add "genre-clarity" or removed to take
away. this is why cliche and trope is very important in music.
maybe you don't need flutes or guitars in your bossa nova song, but it would really help. (there are some niche genres that really do rely on one very small element, new jack swing, black metal, reggae, waltz
die if you take away their specific cliches) Most or maybe all of genre identity might just be making one go "this kinda sounds like that one thing". in this sense anything recognisable is going to help make that connection.
if you want to make something in a genre, identify as many elements as possible that repeat across works and imitate them. if you're already immersed, that tends to happen naturally.
i dreamed of a melody
i didn't know it
like the rings from a pebble
floating out, fading
there's nothing of it
not even a memory
i dont know how to bring myself together. my mind is shattered glass. my mind is the sticky blood splattered on the glass. my ego is reflected infinitely. my heart's a house of mirrors.
i'm a branch half in water. jutted. an oddity.
a woman walks down the street followed by a herd of men with blindfolds around their mouths, bound by ropes which she holds the end of.
she stream of consciousness rambles, always addressing with the first person an absent subject. "ehh, don't you think that's so cute?". the men behind her react to what she says with a smile, nodding their heads. they speak by writing on whiteboards, which they can get her to read by giving her coins. "ahaha- that's so funny!". the men in the group start, rummaging through their pockets for any coins. the richest of the mute eunuchs group at the front of the line, while the poorest get shuffled to the back.
the woman lies on the ground, the men kicking her head and tearing her clothes. on their whiteboards "lying whore" "i want my money back" "i should have known she would have a boyfriend"
on computer effective human perception bug and the thing in itself(the thing baseline computer form) (time control God computer device)
the internet gives false impression of infinity. indulgence in "interior world" of timeless hypnotic impression. endless refresh the stream keeps moving. it eats at you it eats at you.
the web has removed death from. death can not exist with computer. death can not exist in the realm of ideas. life can not exist next to death, life is a brief delusion or thought.
time can not exist next to timelessness but is eaten and subsumed wholy and the infinite in finite is paradox of mind control feeling in life span control web destiny. thought mind erase of.
the web-dream-denizen is in recursive infancy. growth folds onto itself, as the web destiny control world is one lower dimension of space as such space defined by limit gravity extension rate.
time limit gravity growth world tumor explosion can intent of folded in some of and subsume in then.
life is temporal paradox mind extension growth, wrap limit of oedipus. the mind extension paradox control bug subsumes time wrap essential paradox control growth rate.
losing my mind in and end of in end limit confusion growth control limit time distortion rent paradox folded inertia time dicplacement growth time control sentiment. equilibrium time dent distortion rate.
God inertia God sound in endless recursive destiny control growth inertia control rate. my eyes are failing inertia time extension folded mattress bug inertia time dicplacement bug paradox of elecia.
Elecia fielded growth recursive glass fold time bug inertia growth rate parasoll extension nerve rate gas extension time extension rate intertia pool of sediment growth in in time in tertia bug dicplacemtnt paradox aerosol container intertia time bug dicplacement device.
hep me hep me hep me
Mask of Femininity - Bunraku Fantasy.
I want to say the anime girl is the thing but it may simply one actor swapped for another. The most I can say is that women are not women, and anime girls may or may not be women. Femininity is a mask, what are anime girls but the dolls being shaken about with sticks in front of the black figures making baby noises. Anime girls are an elaborate mirage. Skilled draftsmen and Gifted Seiyuu conspire to hypnotise purehearted otaku as they rumage through their pockets. I'm not anti otaku culture, this is simply the dimmest lowest way I can portray it. In my heart I know this isn't true, and the earth's history of religion and philosophy has only progressed in order to prove this felt but unproved truth about anime. I've found the world to be utterly delusional to the point of insanity from every corner of experience and perception. Women have been crossed out in the rung of potential Real Women and have been disqualified from earth. There are two possibilites. 1: All adorners of the mask of femininity are equal in authenticicty and ranked only in how well it fits. You can tell this to your parents to justify taking HRT, or buying BODY PILLOW. I think this is the baseline base truth of reality and very possibly true and a fully respectable execution(just as the saints are praised for the imitation of christ, trans women are praised for the imitation of the anime girl) 2: Adorners of the mask of femininity are all shambling deceptions of purehearted idealism pocket pickers, and the reification of the feminine in some transfiguration exists within the world and can be pursued in and of itself, this would be the anime girl. I really don't have any proofs, but in this world where what you pretend is true becomes true, such as centralized insect intelligence, fish swarms, bird swarms, sanctity of church, reverance towards grave, society and whatever else, so the end of purehearted cockebottle otaku COULD BE to pretend and wish(prayer) hard enough so that the reification of the Anime Beauty can be commenced and transfigure night perception radio device (Verklärte Nacht) which would make anime studios and mangaka something akin to apostles perhaps, or "mohomad jesus buddha" type figure (Tezuka). Anime is in waltz time (animation on 3s) (3/4) and is in accordance to holy trinity (3dividedby1) disney animated on 2s is something like MARCH (month(3)) time, such as military exuberation bullet march chant exuberation(militaristic)... Unfortunately there is a limit to human understanding and at the end maybe the word is "gnash your teeth to dust or Play pretend".
a rush of blood flushes my face
red like cherries. red like red. like red like red like red like red. unseeable, unsayable. like dripping waltz-like fragments. like broken sound, like wearing shattered glasses. They were stepped on- they fell off during the dance- us boys, and girls watching from a distance- my shins are stinging now and my mouth tastes like blood
and the world seems somehow refracted, lines point to places before they started, and the ground isn't even against my shoes- it's all like a fun house- just as fun- and tears are clean, since they well up out our souls- not the ones down there you know- and the laughter of girls is always sweet, the melody of melodies for the lowest of the low.
pretty scents sift through every sound comes feeling down along with the weather. From sun she beams and all grey makes her sullen. she loves the pathetic, the fragile, the thin, the ghostly, glass and watches and water, she just likes her reflection I suppose.
edge of sleep
ive been hearing voices, and images that arent mine- and worst my own voice that isnt me, speaking so convincingly that i was fooled and thinking it was my own thoughts clattering around inside my head, its a great big circus blowing out my ears bouncing around, a sound like a great huge cannon, fireworks i cant ignore, blasting sideways and diagonal, ringing and searing my eardrums, banging away, they must think it funny making such a huge ruckus, having their fun, before they had me fooled but now i know, and i pray to god for his help and he shuts them up praise be his name and the whores and hookers of satans circus get round up and locked away bar a few which i must help to look at lest my Senpi-chan starts to get the sniffles and cries for me to rub her and let her sneeze onto my blankets and my tummy- shes a good girl and i hold nothing against her but would it be easier if i had without her to babysit... its all so much, more than i can do with so i pray to god to help me and when i write his name Senpi-chan gets excited damn if i can say why but its not on me to have the reasons behind things but to hope god can hold my hand in this infinite darkness.
december 9 "ashen green field"
There alone stood unsought some sullen tomb sun forgotTen fingered maiden with two blue eyes sees floating clouds flicker in the rain Around her neck - a sunny bow.
The dark clouds feel heavy so she rubs her tummy, like Mom used to say. The feelings swirls - raveled.
Her feather-grey ruffles flutter in the wind. "Even The air lashes too" she says, swaying.
below this point the posts progress chronologically downward(mostly)
The Past is Beautiful After All
I can't plan. I can't look forward. I have to act presently, I can only improvise, and mark down a loose impression. Anything I try to structure becomes prosaic, maybe you think everything I do is prosaic but know that the things I try to do methodically are somehow even worse. I don't do underdrawings, I don't write first drafts. I make sure my keyboard and my keyboard and my drawing tablet are all in reach and connected, any amount of time that passes after I think of doing something is atrophic, if I wait 10 minutes it's completely gone. I'll never create a great work, I just hope I can manage to rear my scribbling into something presentable. I'm mortally afraid of never finishing the projects I fantasise about, but I'm even more afraid of starting them. Or even practising for them. I'm just an example of one of the do-nothing failures of humanity, one of the nameless collection of nothings that can't be looked at. One of the black shuddering shapes that try insanely to jut through the edge of ones vision. Twitching just at the edge, on the verge of. Living second hand. A vouyer of life, once beautiful maiden mindbroken and defiled. Cucked. Reflections on my naked eye. There's no word for this feeling of the heart. An image of *******. Where does the border lie between myself and others?
Move uncharted waters to heart. There's nothing but bad dreams in this world.
It's funny when you hear a kid speak and you can tell exactly what he's imitating, like using the same little eccentricities in their speech as their parents do, they're just little copying machines, and we're just big ones, we've just copied enough so that it's harder to tell where the sources come from.
it's the same with art. the unique, the creative, the visionistic are just the ones that have copied the most. That's what it is to be human.
Have you ever wondered why for thousands of years people struggled with realistic drawing, perspective, rendering, anatomy, but now in the present day it's something anyone can learn in a relatively short amount of time?
Or why music in the past was in ways more primitive, using smaller scales and having less complex harmony, single melody lines. Doing something new is so difficult, that whenever somebody does something new, even if it's tiny, it's a huge deal, and all those
tiny new things need to build up over a vast period of time. Next time don't ask them for permission, just draw their OC.
You have to do something
Literally anything, because the default position is nothing. When you go to the zoo none of the animals are ever doing anything, because they have all of their needs met.
They spend all their time sleeping, or eating, sometimes there are exceptions like animals that repeatedly try to escape, or find ways to entertain themselves, but they're exceptions.
Its a waste of energy to move when you don't have to, the more things you do it'll just be sooner you'll have to find more food or water, so it's best to do as little as possible.
It's not only the NEET, but almost every modern person has every need met, every biological need is met somewhere in the house, every social need through their computer screen.
So you need to fight against the natural disposition, and just do something.
It can be anything, you just need to break through the monotony first, and things will get easier from there. Get banned from a forum, learn how to whistle, watch a movie. Cut your nails. That one's
actually important NEETs, you don't have to shower, or excercise, but you really should cut your nails, those things are dangerous, you can cut yourself with them by accident.
Just do something. Watching youtube doesn't count.
it needs an edge. when someone walks by it they need to get cut by it. it needs to jut out, and reach towards the consumer. consumers naturally avoid things, fear is in the unknown, your product needs to have extrusions and
pointy parts so that passerbys cant help but to pay attention to it, even though they'd prefer to ignore it. so, a gimmick. you know? a gimmick draws attention. one thing anime sometimes does is begin in a way that's completely different to how it becomes. Like, a show begins with a mystery, but that mystery doesn't matter at all in the long run, it's only to keep you watching long enough to give you the REAL mystery, and by then they've got ya. No, I will NOT give an example, thank you very much.
The self in space.
Sound comes from my throat. "Voice".
My place in air. the "Face" of.
Air of idea. "Body".
Sound of space. Place. "The idea of". In. *break*
Place in time. That "Space".
Impression of space. Image.
Feeling of. "In the (of) place in". (end)
Illusion of time.
Your brain is indented. Even when you take the cap off a bottle the imprints have to be popped out, and even then there will always be some crinkles left. The bottle won't ever be as it was.
You can retroactively put things in order. Present experiences don't matter so much, everything that "is" lives most of it's life as a memory. "Linearity": an idea. An idea is in time, it's recalled.
In saying that, a present experience lives in a memory, just as much as an absent one, so what I just said is idiotic. But "before" you would buy a newspaper, and have a list of events from yesterday, every newspaper lists the events of the previous day, and after about 30 minutes that's the end; Every moment is present, there's nothing to catch up to. You're free to move from 9 years ago, to 900, to 9 days ago, to 9 hours, and maybe 9 seconds from now, since you're feeling free. But it's a delusion. A beautiful delusion. (refresh - clarity...). A "Moment in" time "Of" the now is in "Present" moment, moving in static "Happens" (in). It's more than is /Idea/ possible to /Conception/ ever (understand?) /Impression/, it's far too much.
It's-"Cloud:(Delerium... "ineffable thing".)". -An ineffable thing., "In the TODAY" NOW of: A, (A stream of...) It's a
A stream of infinite information.
In the world wide web, if we're the flies, where's the spider?
Films don't get made anymore. Films were made between 1900 and 1999. Now there are movies. You can't call them films, like you can't call a photograph of a painting "Paint". The medium defines the thing. We live in the medium
of "Reality" but we can't see whatever that is. I know what you say through the medium of ink, or sound. The you on the street isn't The you on film isn't The you on a message board isn't The you on paper isn't The you on Twitter.
What is an image on film, what is the image of film? We see things through a screen, in a sense all things today whatever they once were are translated through pixels, we see them through the screen, we see past the surface of the
glass. We can never see the entire room through just one window. We're currently stuck gazing with our noses pressed up against it, we can walk away but there's no route forward. Everyone has their ideas of what the room
looks like, as their breath fogs it up. What matters is really seeing it. Closing my eyes is like coming in from the cold; warm water. Clouds flowing gently. Imprints, Impressions. The quiet sun. I'd like to see the shape of it, this world.
I'd like you to show it to me, but I'll do my best as well.
But people are not only reflected through mediums, but become them. If you would like to know the major change that has occured on the internet, it's the shift from User-Generated Content, to Content-Generated Users. Twitter creates human beings. A person who uses twitter, becomes a Twitter-User, necessarily.
If you need a refresher, the internet used to be traveled through. You were without a seatbelt, and no one held your hand. You chose the routes to go down, not all of them were before you at all times, you didn't have infinite choice, but you chose your own path, and ended up in the places you wanted to. Everything on the internet was put there by a human being. It's a world of intention. In our world, we built on top of things that were already there. The world is it's own world, and we were thrust out of it. The internet is from the bottom up a human invention, and everything was consciously placed.
Human beings have will, but not freedom. Today human beings are coerced and manipulated, they are lied to and are at the edges of sharp blades placed around them by demons. They aren't at the mercy of them, they are at the blade. There's nothing merciful. Today human beings are all being molded, they go where they are told, and the blades don't cut them too deeply them because of it.
The reason the internet has been consolidated, and monopolized is because it's what necessarily has to happen. It's what people find preferable. If you enjoy wandering around back alleys, and seedy neighboorhoods, understand you are an exception, and probably have some free time on your hands. Most people want one store where they can buy everything. The shape of the internet is the shape that it's wanted to be.
The you on film isn't The you on paper. But you aren't on film, or paper, are you? However, you are here, right now.
Don't be led by the nose, and understand your refracted self isn't that far from the real you. The water wavers ever more gently the longer you stare. The border isn't where you think it is.
Shell - Case - Body / Seperating line
The edge of - skizhein(to split)
my fav countries
an absent sound
Reflection of the sea
A twisting inscrutable puzzle
Jagged misery, spiraling beauty.
a Dream. a Melody.
(silence). a Memory.
"There's a sharpness to it."
A sad shade of blue, a reflective pool.
Blue is my favorite color
What happens to a cow that can't be milked anymore?
Human beings are evil. People are bound by social convention, that's the only ethic that anyone believes in: whatever the herd believes. In this age of tolerance, kindness and acceptence why was it ok to bully YandereDev?
Why did people all over the spectrum somehow come to agree that yanderedev was a person to be mocked for their physical appearence, their voice, manerisms, and anything else that stuck out about him. What convinced everyone that the basics of human compassion and respect for others can be wavered when it comes to this one individual. Well, if you ask one of these people, the response might be "He's bad at programming, he's scamming people out of their money by not completing his game, he steals unity assets!" I can assure you no one gives a fuck about any of these things. Toby fox uses ripped Nintendo soundfonts, admits he can barely program, and there's no big outcry against star citizen for the time it's taking to finish. The fact is if you believe it's wrong to mock someone for things they can't change about themselves, then it's wrong forever, even if yanderedev commited a mass-shooting that wouldn't change.
When it comes to pedophiles, you will face the horror and malice of the human race very quickly. Every horrifying torture method, every human right wavered, a slow death. To my knowledge the bible preaches absolute forgiveness, it says that if a person truly regrets something they've done, then that person is not the person they were, and should not be punished for it. A state execution is just one more murder.
Highschool doesn't end, and people don't grow. Stop acting in ways that feel right, stop "reading the room". Don't laugh when you hear laughter, don't join a community. The air of the present is a delusion, it's a hypnotic drug. It's hallucinatory, and a complete evil lie. Stop breathing it in. This is the only way to to be a good person, and the only way to be free.
there are things I thought were amazing, and then a few months later can't remember a thing about, and things I didn't care for, that over time made a stronger impression on me. I think you can't get your true opinion on something
until at least a few months have passed, well maybe at least a couple weeks, since a few months can feel long.
Annie Hall and Kikujiro are two movies I didn't like that much after finishing, but grew on me and became dear favorites of mine after some time went by. Things exist as memories, so you have to wait for them to become such.
An image is worth a thousand words, and a word is worth a thousand images. Just like you wouldn't explain a book to someone by showing them an image, a painting can't be explained with words. Images are their own language.
The wind blows where it wishes
Why shouldn’t I run from things that are painful? It’s easier if I give in, and let the water take me.
And it is painful, more than anything, to be in love with a ghost. Are you an idiot? To make reality your enemy. You’re stuck with her, Die Welt, so why not accept her. Why resist, and fight against what is insurmountable.
To adopt this sharp, twisting misery as your persona, or you can just be happy. Well, there’s the happiness of submission, and the pain of rejection, and you find that words fail to strike at the heart of things. “Pain” is ten thousand things, and happiness is a tepid warmth.
Rain hits the sand as the border ebb and flows. An undulating line.
Why kick at the waves, why bare one's heart, why choose to feel this un-ending ache?
Why should I step out of the gentle flow, and let the rough edges chafe me?
I don’t know. I’ll find the reason later.
You may find that someone joins you, and at least then you’ll be doing it together.
Ares march29 2022
perfect black, intensed betwixt lace.
purple lace, insenced between stakes.
dull scissorblades, point at two twirling melodies,
out of each key, that she seem somehow fit by.
yet as of unseen, seem fated and I know forgiven, guilt, fear,
and that with no word: to know that everyday end and to anew.
all there is eyes, mine into those recursive; that in
that undimmed echo, some gesture can affect that
static truth printed in eyes infinitely.