If you can’t beat ’em. Which you definitely can’t.
Karpathy was right about it being fun, at least, no denying that. Might as well enjoy the end of the fucking world.
Look upon my works*, ye mighty, and despair: Fret Department.
* Okay, Claude’s works, mostly.
I enjoyed Sweet Mambo. It’s entertaining, oh so characteristic, often beautiful. But sad.
Not in the moment, always, exactly. There are landmarks of fun, excitement, hilarity. There’s a lot of yer actual dancing — not always guaranteed in Tanztheater. Beautiful dancers. Gorgeous billowing set. Lovely music. But the abiding impression is just so achingly sad.
Hindsight is tricky. It’s hard to keep track. But I’m almost certain her last piece was more upbeat than this, second to.
Also. Tangentially. I feel like I have seen Cafe Muller more times than I possibly can have. It’s confusing. I’m confused.
Dude, at least name some fucking names. Which tech CEO is the real Stavrogin?
Also, this is what a lifetime reading Slate Star Codex and LessWrong does to you.
I watched the hockey show, of course. With a fair bit of eye-rolling at first — it is quite trashy, especially early on — but it won me over. It has heart.
Apparently I’m as much of a sucker for sappy wish fulfilment gay romance targeting disenchanted straight women as— well, the next middle-aged homo, I suppose.
It’s cold, everyone’s ill and overworked, and 2025 was pretty dismal in a lot of ways. I shan’t be sorry to see the back of it, tbh.
May the new one be better, y’all.
🥂