Algorithm Films, Atmospheric Oil Paintings, Glow-in-the-Dark Plants, etc.
In which I really should be weeding right now.
🦖 And we’re off.
🗳️ This is the most important election of our lifetime.
🤣 The UN Commission report on “Peak Goggins.” I assume one on Pedro Pascal is well underway.
🧑💻 So says Time, the 100 most influential people in the world of AI.
📺 Netflix’s “algorithm movies” use data to maximize broad appeal, starring “big” but not top-tier names with stories simplified so phone-distracted viewers can follow easily, arguably sacrificing nuance and artistry. Critics argue the result is generic, forgettable entertainment over bold, innovative filmmaking.
📽️ New Trailers: One Battle After Another, Bugonia, The Long Walk.
🎨 These beautiful, atmospheric oil paintings by Martin Wittfooth “illuminate nature’s timeless cycles.”
🖼️ Over 1,000 pieces of art by Van Gogh have been cataloged, digitized and made available online.
🌀 The Phenakistiscope, the 1830s device that created the first animations.
🪴 Glow-in-the-dark houseplants. “Succulents become rechargeable night lights after injection with tiny phosphor particles.”
👂 Just imagine an airpod is in this ear, and watch this video on how they work.
🎧 (30/50) Stephen Malkmus (self-titled): Breezy, playful, and slyly comforting, like spending an afternoon with a friend who doesn’t take life all that seriously yet might have it all figured out. The songs drift between laid-back grooves and sudden bursts of energy, giving the listener a sense of freedom and spontaneity. There’s humor in the lyrics, but also warmth. The jangly guitars and off-kilter melodies create a mood that’s both relaxed and slightly mischievous, leaving you smiling at its quirks. It’s an album that feels casual yet clever, evoking ease, curiosity, and the joy of wandering without a fixed destination. “Vague Space” embodies that in-between state. Not anchored, not adrift, but suspended in ambiguity, where meaning slips just out of reach.
🍁 “You want to know how I spend my time?
I walk the front lawn, pretending
to be weeding. You ought to know
I'm never weeding, on my knees, pulling
clumps of clover from the flower beds: in fact
I'm looking for courage, for some evidence
my life will change, though
it takes forever, checking
each clump for the symbolic
leaf, and soon the summer is ending, already
the leaves turning, always the sick trees
going first, the dying turning
brilliant yellow, while a few dark birds perform
their curfew of music. You want to see my hands?
As empty now as at the first note.
Or was the point always
to continue without a sign?”
✌️ Yet still, forever, keeping the Hoping Machine running.
Love,
Luke
