The Witching Hour Phantasia

Bright and early in the morning decided to check if they came up with an accessible and actually working anti-AI art protection tool yet (they did not).

I'm so tired of this.

I got three artworks done that I can't make myself post. Haven't posted in months, and I don't know if I ever dare to do that while everything is the way it is.

Also a funny ☠︎︎ thought. My friend, who argued with me that AI won't replace me - she used to commission me for graphic design. She doesn't anymore, 'cause she learned how to generate, and it's free, unlike commissioning someone real. ))0)0

I'm not being replaced at all, you see. )

If anyone here sees this, you're welcome to tell me in detail just how much you hate AI in art. ♡ Also any suggestions of anti-AI protection will be very appreciated.

That interesting and seductive feeling when you look so godlike and radiate such confidence in own irresistibility it makes you ready to desire for self.

Lightened by rays of the setting sun, I looked illegally beautiful in a side mirror.

I almost hadn't expirienced it so strongly since then, and don't know when I will. Warmth and light are slipping away, so I'll just leave here this lost piece of summer and continue my transition to the phase of darkness and cold.

    January 15 th, 1987     Van Nuys, 8:30 p.m.

    Today we were back in the studio, writing for the new album. I rode in on my Harley feeling all jittery and decided to stop for a small fix... Went in Denny’s on Gower and Sunset (always the classy guy!). I didn’t have a spoon, so I bought a bottle of Pepsi, threw the bottle away, kept the cap and went in their bathroom to shoot up. The shitter was disgusting - black rings and shit stains around the bowl and the unclever graffiti all over the walls...     I sat on my motorcycle helmet on the floor and filled the cap with water from the toilet. I dunno why I didn’t fill it from the sink, like any sane person would. I put the bottle cap on the toilet seat in the piss and stains, and poured coke in it. I drew it up in the syringe, washed it out in the shit water, put a little china white in the cap and cooked it, burning my fingers. I had no cottons, so I just drew it up and shot up.     The studio was fine after that... I just felt dead.

    Nikki Sixx, “The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star”.

    I hope we all understand it’s not a lure, but a warning.

Fanfic illustration

Description of the scene: 

Dr. Sixx introduces beloved patient to the dark secret hobby, showing him an obscure album filled with photos of his tortured victims.

Иллюстрация к фанфику:

https://ficbook.net/readfic/1154260/3530090#part_content

Sometimes the song is so damn good you just have to illustrate it.

https://lono.bandcamp.com/track/--5 

Some time ago I found a Huffpost interview with Jackie Fuchs of The Runaways where she's telling about sexual assault she had suffered from band's manager Kim Fowley on one of her early days as a Runaway. I drowned in Jackie's tale for a while, and it struck me hard. But I also was very inspired with her strenght and vitality. And, as a result, felt a will to draw her little portrait.

I'm not your pretty little flower.

We must protect them at all costs. ♡