Dan Milo

@danielemilo.bsky.social

286 Followers 495 Following

đŸ«§ 🍉 Ecologies, urbanisms, systems virtual & concrete berlin based queer äž­æ–‡äčŸćŻä»„ danielemilo.neocities.org

looking up at a façade of a 70s apartment building half-concealed by trees with purple flowers
cover of ‘The Ethics of Immigration’ by Joseph Carens
"They're here, but they're not here. See how they're talking now? The tone of their voice? They have passed their judgment on the place, and then they'll leave and will never know where they were. And yet, even if they're not here, their arriving to this neighborhood signals that the place is changing. They have arrived. And if they have arrived, the cold brew will arrive. And still, they have no idea about this place where they sat and ordered coffee."
slightly fucked up screenshot of an ig post of my face where im looking into the camera w an uncomfortable grimace and text that says ‘watching the news cycle and trying to stay positive’
To put it another way, the vast majority of men are only willing to engage in public violence if they feel like the people around them will approve of - and reward them for - that violence. ICE Watch works because it surrounds men seeking approval with people loudly expressing their disapproval. And the noise has the added benefit of drawing large crowds of bystanders who can quickly outnumber the ICE agents, who then have to decide if they want to escalate a situation or perhaps abandon their activity altogether.
picture of a fish tank full of crabs taken from the inside of a restaurant, the outside world beyond blurred by the water. Text on image: you are a crab, sitting with your crab friends in a restaurant fish tank overlooking the distant harbour, waiting to be consumed. but you have no concept of time, so this moment lasts forever
stinky tofu on a plate that’s in a plastic bag so they don’t have to watch it, next to it some soy sauce-chilli-garlic mix, all on a bright red table top
the back of a university building covered in AC units and half-hidden by lish ficus trees covered in vines.
plan of the renovated station, birds eye
"We're in the development phase," Bouvat-Merlin said. "You'll see a phased approach where we get our solution to market as a stepping stone. All the different components - our concierge service, our Al software running on servers, our smart cameras - are building blocks coming together in a plan we just put in place very recently."
a pair of smokestacks at sunset / the twin towers after theyve both been hit
from article: Johnson's actions finally caught up with him. The same will be true of Farage. As I wrote yesterday, he has little-to-no regard for probity or transparency. He is proudly funded by oligarchs, tax dodgers, and oil executives - and god knows what he's promised them in return for their patronage. There's a good chance that a Farage-led administration - whether on a national, regional or local level - will be even more embroiled by corruption and scandal than Johnson's rotten tenure. And while Johnson tried (to the best of his limited ability) to enact some popular economic policies, Farage seems determined to pursue his extreme libertarian agenda to the bitter end.
four books: Hiromi Kawakami, Under the Eye of the Big Bird; Mona Awad, Bunny; Hanns-Josef Ortheil, Der Stift und das Papier; Lucy Rose, The Lamb
a very foggy day, some dead plants and vines in the foreground, behind it a steep gil fading into the fog, and at the crest of the hill are a few bare trees, just about visible
They Can Be Killjoys Fear of genuine emotion can cause emotionally immature people to be killjoys. As parents, instead of enjoying their children's excitement and enthusiasm, they may abruptly change the subject or warn them not to get their hopes up. In response to their children's exuberance, they're likely to say something dismissive or skeptical to bring it down a notch. When one woman told her mother about her excitement about buying her first house, her mother actually said, "Yes, and then you'll find something else to go on about."
screenshot “But if your parent was scared of deep feelings, you might have been left with an uneasy sense of shame for needing comforting. When the children of emotionally immature parents grow up, the core emptiness remains, even if they have a superficially normal adult life. Their loneliness can continue into adulthood if they unwittingly choose relationships that can't give them enough emotional connection. They may go to school, work, marry, and raise children, but all the while they'll still be haunted by that core sense of emotional isolation.”
cover of book “Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self-Involved Parents”
And I think this distinction shows why "Al" and capitalism are so deeply intertwined and why there probably is not really a leftist version of it: Capitalism wants to produce more and more with as little cost as possible to create growth and therefore value for those owning capital. "Al" is that: Don't put anything in really and get something that might be passable to sell. You cannot get better than that really (from a capitalist viewpoint).
a braided loaf of bread with some beautiful colour on the crust, in the oven
Here we analyse an extract from a sample of asteroid (101955) Bennu collected by the OSIRIS-REX spacecraft and identify several bio-essential sugars, including ribose (RNA sugar) and glucose (metabolism substrate). These sugars complete the inventory of ingredients crucial to life. Their distribution is consistent with that in the condensation products of formaldehyde solution. Given that Bennu contains formaldehyde and originates from an ancient parent asteroid that underwent long-term alteration by aqueous fluids, we postulate that the detected sugars formed in the parent asteroid from brines containing formaldehyde.
a woman with a bike literally about to be crushed by cubic metres of snow falling from a roof
zoomed in shot of huge cargo ship on the water in the distance, backlit and surrounded by bright strips of water reflecting the sun. the ship is dwarfed by the huge, swirling masses of clouds in the sky, dramatically lit by the sun.
a shot of lisbon harbour, mostly sky, with wispy, lighter clouds along the top and darker, heavier clouds by the horizon. The sun is on the left and is tefracting rainbow colours along its halo, maybe becasue of the clouds or the camera. The water is grey-blue and in the foregroudn are the end of two big docks, black silhouettes because of thr contrast with the sun behind. if you look closely, a man is on the pier, he was dancing.
looking up at some crammed-together apartments in Lisbon’s old town. The buildings are all off-white except for one that’s pale pink. The concrete is crumbling with water stains and there are only a few windows spaced out. the sky is grey.
A block of 70s-looking flats out of concrete with a curving façade and lined with orange sun shades. The flats fill up the whole frame, and a bare tree is partially covering the balconies on the lef.
whatsapp message with heart-reaction: i feel confused and abandoned by you.
article quote: Allegedly, the logs also show that Raine "told ChatGPT that he repeatedly reached out to people, including trusted persons in his life, with cries for help, which he said were ignored." Additionally, Raine told ChatGPT that he'd increased his dose of a medication that "he stated worsened his depression and made him suicidal." That medication, OpenAl argued, "has a black box warning for risk of suicidal ideation and behavior in adolescents and young adults, especially during periods when, as here, the dosage is being changed."
it’s that weird meme of stick figures crashing out, all black and white except for splotches of red that represents blood. one is biting on a metal bar and bleeding, one eating someone, beating comeone up, blood pouring out of their eyes etc., and then i wrote variations of “books done” and “finish” under them. It’a actually really hard to dscribe this meme and i couldnt find it when i looked for it, i was typing in ‘blood meme’ or ‘meme of stick figures panicking’ but it wasnt showing up.
They shook hands, and then Jun's eyes widened a little as he noticed the edge of the wound on Bud's right arm, peeking out from under the cuff of his shirt. He'd forgotten to put on a new bandage. The cut had crusted over and the skin around it had reddened. And it ran, Bud noticed now, perhaps suspiciously in a vertical across the part of his inner arm with the thinnest skin. The Bron had dulled the sensation of it, but it stung again now. "This?" Bud held his arm up. Jun said nothing. "I cut myself. On a piece of a massage chair," Bud said. "Where?" "My hotel." Jun looked relieved. "You should report that." Bud nodded
After meeting Jun he walked all the way back from Minato to Shinjuku, stopping at 7-11s along the way to chug fizzy-sweet cans of strong alcohol that made him pleasantly drunk. It was late, and Shinjuku buzzed with night. Tourist families and local students and young couples and cosplayers thronged the narrow roads, which were lined with arcades and chicken skewer shops and scam-info kiosks and glowing, blown-up faces of men and women edited into cartoonish elven beauty, huge blue eyes and desaturated skin and narrowed noses. J-pop songs were playing gratingly loud from every corner. Teenagers were feeding coins into a row of white-lit claw machines offering stuffed alligators. A gaggle of 60-something-year-old Americans had stopped in the middle of a pedestrian road, one of them repacking her sensible backpack, its contents strewn across the asphalt - a crumpled museum admission, packets of tissue, litre water bottle. Her pals stood around her sort of giggling, maybe at the thought of doing that anywhere else but here. A lone woman sat motionless on a curb with her head between her knees, the phone clutched in her hand pinging.
a screenshot of the tsingtao beer jacket logo with some slighty fucked-up, likely AI-generated chinese characters
The consistent absence of logic, the clumsily wistful tone, and the lack of substance in these abstractions at once belie the dearth of experience of their creator and lay bare the cynical aims of the exercise: to make us feel sad, and to comfort us that LLMs feel sad too.
a ridiculous photo from a 2017 conference on the Neom project. it shows a model of a ‘standard’ city neighbourhood - with roads and buildings and open space - next to a chunky old phone, and then next to that a model of the single, sleek ‘Line’ of Neom next to a modern smartphone. the nonsensical implication being that these two cases are the same in any relevant way.
She motioned for him to lower the red mass of tissue and tipped his head this way and that to have a look at his nose. Bud felt yet another trickle of blood down onto his upper lip and was astounded at how much of it he had in him. She cleaned off the crusted blood with moist cotton pads and got out a metal tray with tweezers, narrow forceps, gauze. With an apologetic look, she pushed his forehead back and started stuffing the gauze up his nostril and into his nasal cavity with the forceps. Bud gripped the armrest - it wasn't exactly painful but it was a supremely uncomfortable and unfamiliar sensation. The gauze filled his head and seemed to go on forever. When he flicked his eyes at Blondie, he saw that he was watching it all closely. "Two days," she said. "Then you take it out."
The train looped up and around and up again, passed through a narrow tunnel out of stone, reversed direction at a stub station with a viewing platform and continued. In pictures online, the train up to the onsen town of Hakone passed over steep, rock-strewn gorges and through pressing ferns. But it was winter, and after they gained some altitude the outside disappeared behind fog, spawning tiny snowflakes that stuck to the glass. Bud felt slightly sick from the train's sharp turns without a reference point or horizon. Blondie was holding his phone up to the window, sighing a little, waiting for a glimpse of an attractive slope or snowbank.
Soon it was night. They were clutching each other on the bed, very still. The album Blondie had put on was into some even more plaintive second half. Blondie's body felt unyielding, even as it was wrapped around Bud's own and so warm. The light of passing trains flashed across their bodies. Bud thought of an ocean roiled by powerful storms so that the water mixed with the air so that everything was either dark grey or foam. They were tiny specks on the water's surface, clinging on. The sound of the trains became thunder, and the air moving in and out of their lungs became the wind.
Quote from article: Among the worst offenders was Huel's Black Edition powder, the low-carbohydrate alternative to Huel's mainstay powder, which contained a stunning 6.3 micrograms of lead per serving, as well as more than double the safe daily serving of cadmium. As far as lead goes, that's about 13 times CR's daily recommended limit, though the Food and Drug Administration advises there's no known safe level of exposure to lead. "For adults, chronic lead exposure is associated with kidney dysfunction, hypertension, and neurocognitive effects," the FDA notes.
From article: "Keep it light, warm, and low-stakes so it reads as genuine interest without urgency," the bot advised. "Something like: Hey Sarah, still laughing about [tiny shared moment/reference if you've got onel - good to meet you!" Rich went back and forth with ChatGPT until he felt they'd hit upon exactly the right message ("Hey Sarah, it was lovely to meet you") but sadly she never replied, he says. "It's been two weeks now."
A kobo ebook reader with the title “Perfection” displayed.
"So I received this account, and at first I had no idea what to do. They wanted an experience they could sell to customers with their skincare and make an impression in a new market. At first I didn't understand. I wasn't a dermatologist, or an entertainer. But my strategy was to think about my loneliness. I desperately just wanted to feel touch. So what came to mind was a sort of massage. You would come in and receive a towel and go to a dimly lit room at the back of the store. Then you lay down and ten pairs of hands simultaneously began rubbing your skin with warm, damp towels, then with an oil. This went on for much longer than you'd expect. Then, the assistants would slowly pack clay onto your whole body and let it dry. And when it was completely hardened, they would slowly pry the pieces off with carved pieces of wood. Like a ritual, even though it had no basis."
Bud went around and said little friendly things to everyone and wandered down the hallway to the half-open bedroom door, where he found Diva and Ginger. Diva was Ona's longhaired cat and Ginger was Mel's tabby, and now that they'd moved in together they had a little lesbian interspecies patchwork family. Diva nudged her grey head into his hand and had her tail curled straight up. Mel appeared from the hallway with a plate of salmon canapés in an orange gown that matched the salmon and also Ginger. She had long limbs like a model but it was just because she was Dutch. She towered over him since he was on all fours with the two cats. "It's been a while," Mel said. "Nice to see you." "Sure. How is life treating you?" "So-so," Bud said. "How are you?" Mel rolled her eyes. "I'm working or I'm sleeping."
“The girl who'd done costumes stuck her bare feet in the water and was singing something and a few others joined in with the singing. Bud didn't recognise the song and started crawling further along the riverbank, crawling because he suddenly felt so tired and scared of how the dirt of the bank curved so steeply and cliff-like into the still, black water. He was melting into the branches and his skin was turning to bark. The palms of his hands felt soft and hot and seemed to make no sound at all as he crawled across the moist, uneven ground. Dark mats of shrivelled leaves and twigs bloomed striated patterns. Huge trees loomed over him impossibly large and it felt appropriate to cower.”
Cover of Near to the Wild heart by Clarice Lispector
Picture of The wind Knows My Name by Isabel Allende
A picture of the book
Quote: Rather than showing the capability for generalized logical inference, these chain-of-thought models are "a sophisticated form of structured pattern matching" that "degrades significantly" when pushed even slightly outside of its training distribution, the researchers write. Further, the ability of these models to generate "fluent nonsense" creates "a false aura of dependability" that does not stand up to a careful audit.
Cartoon jesus saying “If you are prosperous on earth, that means that god is rewarding your rugged individualism. If you are poor, it is a sign that god frowns on your reliance on handouts.”
Goya’s “Saturn devouring his son” except its mr peanut, aghast, devouring a smaller version of himself.
from article: “An ICE agent opens the door and the woman's daughter shrieks-an unforgettable noise of agony. Her mother is about to disappear, into the purposefully vague bureaucratic world of forced removal. The opening of that door, to this shrieking girl... it must look like a life torn apart. Her family fractured. And for what? No one bothers to explain that to her. Perhaps they're not allowed to. The rules.”