My second piece of music composed with artificial intelligence. Link to the full video in my bio. . The voices in my head are unkind, giving power to thoughts I couldn’t dare own as mine. . The longer the voices perceive my failures the more forcefully I validate their existence. . And then I wonder - how many others hear voices like mine? ...but nevermind... . It’s time to wake up, brush my teeth, go to work. Time to come home and count followers as worth. Time to call friends and check in, all’s the same Time to hope that tomorrow will change. . Forgetting that it’s always time for something and yet there’s never enough so we gamify life for more likes and more stuff . Unable to reconcile each passing year, time’s the one thing we can’t engineer. . How might the tens of thousands of collective decisions made daily change if we were forced to come to terms with our own mortality? . Would the voices in our head stop the tirade? Or would we feel them grow frantic, become more afraid? . Perhaps it’s only when we stare in the face of a loved one who is dying that we realize we really only get one shot. . That quarrels with lovers and battles at the workplace all seem to fade away as inconsistent and insignificant when seen in the frame of our limited existence. . And that thinking “small”, and doing “small” and loving “small” -- only make sense under the false narrative that we will somehow live forever. . But never mind. It’s time. . Time to place a few bets along this invisible thread and give pause to the voices inside my head.

tarynsouthernさん(@tarynsouthern)が投稿した動画 -

タリン・サザンのインスタグラム(tarynsouthern) - 9月29日 03時31分


My second piece of music composed with artificial intelligence. Link to the full video in my bio.
.

The voices in my head are unkind, giving power to thoughts I couldn’t dare own as mine.
.
The longer the voices perceive my failures the more forcefully I validate their existence. .
And then I wonder - how many others hear voices like mine?
...but nevermind...
.
It’s time to wake up, brush my teeth, go to work.
Time to come home and count followers as worth.
Time to call friends and check in, all’s the same
Time to hope that tomorrow will change.
.
Forgetting that it’s always time for something and yet there’s never enough
so we gamify life for more likes and more stuff
.
Unable to reconcile each passing year,
time’s the one thing we can’t engineer.
.
How might the tens of thousands of collective decisions made daily change if we were forced to come to terms with our own mortality?
.
Would the voices in our head stop the tirade?
Or would we feel them grow frantic, become more afraid?
.
Perhaps it’s only when we stare in the face of a loved one who is dying that we realize we really only get one shot.
.
That quarrels with lovers and battles at the workplace all seem to fade away as inconsistent and insignificant when seen in the frame of our limited existence.
.
And that thinking “small”, and doing “small” and loving “small” -- only make sense under the false narrative that we will somehow live forever. .
But never mind. It’s time.
.
Time to place a few bets
along this invisible thread
and give pause to the voices
inside my head.


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