Semantic Distance https://semanticdistance.io/ closing the gap Tue, 07 Apr 2026 05:57:02 +0000 https://i.snap.as/M2Lo43Te.png Semantic Distance https://semanticdistance.io/ absorption 002 - hand it over! https://semanticdistance.io/absorption-002-hand-it-over?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[ hand it over — mgmt you know the tweet that’s like: opening spotify when you’re not obsessed with a song is like opening up the fridge over and over again when there’s nothing good to eat to no one’s surprise, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling with this song over the past couple of weeks. idk what specifically caused the resurgence as mgmt isn’t in my usual rotation, but i was randomly humming the chorus one night and my head snapped like a hunting dog towards my phone. the song transitions from c\# minor to its parallel major of e, but the eeriness, somber, and weight of the first eight bars bleeds into the rest of the song. listening to a piano arrangement of the song made me realize that chord progression is sort of hidden in the mix, with the bass doing a lot of the work for guiding the ear. the songwriting of the outro coupled with the refrain of “hand it over” is what really makes the song for me. i’m particularly drawn to the use of “rightfully” when the speaker is talking about this amorphous desire of theirs; this declaration of deservedness is a feeling i think most of us have felt and (personally) brings me in closer to the track. below is an earlier section (around 0:38) that always grabs my attention—the descending melody.. the ascending minor chords.. the rise back up to the previous motif… like yeah… #realfuckingmusic. !--more-- it also doesn’t help that i still in the aftermath of applying to \[REDACTED\] and the lamenting of the chorus didn’t help the (occasional) spiraling. i can see my dreams so clearly! they’re right there! hand it over! also fun fact: this song was partly inspired by and written during the 2016 election and reading that in 2026 makes me realize the lyrics like these are very on the nose… i mean that in the best way possible… the joke's worn thin, the king stepped in now we'll see who is who look who's bending over mutant exotic → back 4 more → f.u. this specific order of songs causes my body to move so rigorously that i’m convinced i’m doing some sort of somatic therapy. there’s something so effortlessly cool about lsdxoxo’s and it pairs nicely with toka project’s deep house production, with jamie xx closing it out with playful treat eryka badu vocal samples. each of these songs deserve some sort of 16 track transition with some low pass filters and center bass swaps. can a dj please hop on this? here are some more variations of these three tracks csirac → muschi muschi → cyan hardcore front left speaker → set the roof → the hills (george daniel remix) got em (sango remix) → screen cleaner → hitchhiking wired — post june i imagine this song playing after a b2b with the general aesthetics of the songs in the above absorption, acting as a breather in between hard acid, techno, trance tracks. the instrumentation is simple: a basic drum pattern, a fuzzy bass, and arpeggiated synth lines that are stretched across all frequencies in the middle of the song. i feel like one of those photos from art & oppression by ellen jantzen, but on the imaginary dance floor in my head. ]]>

hand it over — mgmt

you know the tweet that’s like:

opening spotify when you’re not obsessed with a song is like opening up the fridge over and over again when there’s nothing good to eat

to no one’s surprise, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling with this song over the past couple of weeks. idk what specifically caused the resurgence as mgmt isn’t in my usual rotation, but i was randomly humming the chorus one night and my head snapped like a hunting dog towards my phone. the song transitions from c# minor to its parallel major of e, but the eeriness, somber, and weight of the first eight bars bleeds into the rest of the song. listening to a piano arrangement of the song made me realize that chord progression is sort of hidden in the mix, with the bass doing a lot of the work for guiding the ear. the songwriting of the outro coupled with the refrain of “hand it over” is what really makes the song for me. i’m particularly drawn to the use of “rightfully” when the speaker is talking about this amorphous desire of theirs; this declaration of deservedness is a feeling i think most of us have felt and (personally) brings me in closer to the track. below is an earlier section (around 0:38) that always grabs my attention—the descending melody.. the ascending minor chords.. the rise back up to the previous motif… like yeah… #realfuckingmusic.

it also doesn’t help that i still in the aftermath of applying to [REDACTED] and the lamenting of the chorus didn’t help the (occasional) spiraling. i can see my dreams so clearly! they’re right there! hand it over! also fun fact: this song was partly inspired by and written during the 2016 election and reading that in 2026 makes me realize the lyrics like these are very on the nose… i mean that in the best way possible…

the joke's worn thin, the king stepped in now we'll see who is who look who's bending over

mutant exotic → back 4 more → f.u.

this specific order of songs causes my body to move so rigorously that i’m convinced i’m doing some sort of somatic therapy. there’s something so effortlessly cool about lsdxoxo’s and it pairs nicely with toka project’s deep house production, with jamie xx closing it out with playful treat eryka badu vocal samples. each of these songs deserve some sort of 16 track transition with some low pass filters and center bass swaps. can a dj please hop on this?

here are some more variations of these three tracks

csirac → muschi muschi → cyan hardcore front left speaker → set the roof → the hills (george daniel remix) got em (sango remix) → screen cleaner → hitchhiking

wired — post june

i imagine this song playing after a b2b with the general aesthetics of the songs in the above absorption, acting as a breather in between hard acid, techno, trance tracks. the instrumentation is simple: a basic drum pattern, a fuzzy bass, and arpeggiated synth lines that are stretched across all frequencies in the middle of the song. i feel like one of those photos from art & oppression by ellen jantzen, but on the imaginary dance floor in my head.

]]> https://semanticdistance.io/absorption-002-hand-it-over Mon, 06 Apr 2026 23:56:34 +0000 draft 004 - gallery musings https://semanticdistance.io/draft-004-gallery-musings?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[ i’m always intrigued by artwork that casts the author’s personal relatives as religious figures. it feels like the ultimate form of flattery. imagine being immortalized as mother mary for observers to see. maybe the act of rendering a person on canvas is a religious act itself; you are preserving memory and making a figure omnipresent in the rooms of galleries. !--more-- i wonder how artists painting portraits back then felt as they remained one of the only ways to preserve memory in physical space for centuries. did they feel that weight in the studio, peering into the eyes of their subject? how would they feel now walking around the halls of galleries, witnessing the durability of their sketched out image first hand? hopper is able to capture a lot of expression in the faces of his subjects—slight brushstrokes moving downward on faces, looking to be the beginnings of a frown. the closer i get to his paintings, the more i can see back in time. i picture hopper making an abrupt motion down after focusing in on a face, likely painting it over for the 15th time not satisfied with the demarcated expression people still want to learn about art. there are rooms full of life listening to someone lecture about islamic manuscripts from the 13th century. people still want to learn. ]]>

i’m always intrigued by artwork that casts the author’s personal relatives as religious figures. it feels like the ultimate form of flattery. imagine being immortalized as mother mary for observers to see. maybe the act of rendering a person on canvas is a religious act itself; you are preserving memory and making a figure omnipresent in the rooms of galleries.

i wonder how artists painting portraits back then felt as they remained one of the only ways to preserve memory in physical space for centuries. did they feel that weight in the studio, peering into the eyes of their subject? how would they feel now walking around the halls of galleries, witnessing the durability of their sketched out image first hand?

hopper is able to capture a lot of expression in the faces of his subjects—slight brushstrokes moving downward on faces, looking to be the beginnings of a frown. the closer i get to his paintings, the more i can see back in time. i picture hopper making an abrupt motion down after focusing in on a face, likely painting it over for the 15th time not satisfied with the demarcated expression

people still want to learn about art. there are rooms full of life listening to someone lecture about islamic manuscripts from the 13th century. people still want to learn.

]]> https://semanticdistance.io/draft-004-gallery-musings Mon, 30 Mar 2026 22:26:40 +0000 post 001 - february bullets https://semanticdistance.io/post-001-february-bullets?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[this month started like most: overwhelming. while i usually take the contours of my life with relative grace, there’s something about this month that scares me. lots of decisions are being made in the next couple of weeks, let’s see if they’re correct—or at least worth the wait. ever since i’ve been writing more, the specter over my shoulder is starting to be exorcised. reality seems to be taking shape and i finally have the eyes to see it. i think i need at least ONE roommate. living alone is obviously a luxury most want but don’t receive, however, i’m starting to talk to myself way too much. it’s a habit i picked up in high school, regurgitating study material to myself silently in my school’s media center, but it’s ended up overstaying its welcome. i can clearly remember moving into my first apartment in dc rehearsing my professional elevator pitch in front of the bathroom mirror wearing only a towel while hitting power poses. i recite monologues around my place too, of course thinking i’m preforming like there’s an eviction notice on my door. anyway, i think i just need a pet. i was cat-sitting for my friend momina a couple months ago (if you’re reading this hiiiiii) and i was immediately taken aback having another living thing in my home. i don’t necessarily ignore the silence, i didn’t really have the ears to hear the frequency. it’s like the cat’s signs of life widened my understanding by reminding myself adolescence, back when i was sharing a room with one or both of my siblings. i miss the noise. !--more-- i think i’m attracted to men that are built and look like walruses. it’s fleeting, but i sometimes feel 17 again. it’s like i wake up and lose progress one day. sometimes i look in the mirror and see him staring back. is there something i’m missing? i think i’m the only person who knows about madi sipes & the painted blue. i found the band right before covid hit while i was visiting home for spring break. i was in a phase of isolating myself and illegally watching movies on my 2017 macbook air until 2 AM, using the last couple of dollars from my work study paycheck to buy snacks from the vending machine by my dorm. some say i might’ve been struggling financially—i’m gonna have to agree. anywayyyyy, the music is kinda made for people who want to imagine what sex is like without actually having to experience it (there has to be a better way to say this my god). it’s melodramatic, sometimes gaudy, but always good idc. these lyrics were tearing 19-year-old me apartttttt. i would’ve been that one grad student in elizabeth holmes’ chemistry lab praying on her downfall. i’m sitting at my desk trying to work but i think this job is genuinely making me depressed. it’s hard to explain but going to the office feels like a funeral procession—i find myself gravitating to all black outfits and walking somberly to the metro as if i’m awaiting the fate of my livelihood. last year when it was even worse (lol yeah that’s possible) and my mom would comment on how sad my eyes looked on facetime. i didn’t believe her at first but now it’s all see when i look at myself in passing. it’s draining. i just want these people to take me seriously like everyone else in my life. why can’t they see me? but also who fucking cares about them? idk. it also sucks because i’m wearing my sophie sweater today and serving too much cunt for a corporate environment. i will never forgive the initial commodification of large language models by openai. its gonna take so much longer for ai research to be taken seriously by the general population. i deleted my twitter account about two years ago and while i’m eternally grateful for that decision, i’ve always been nervous that i’d be missing out on the inside jokes that make up most of internet culture. all that to say, thank god for those meme pages on instagram reposting tweets like i really needed someone to fill that vacuum of humor and they came through for me. i have a memory from elementary school where i was in my music class and playing with a sharpened pencil on the carpet. all i remember next is the pencil going through my left hand and blood leaking all over my uniform shirt. it seemed that no one helped fast enough as the blood dried on my skin with smudges from my tears i’m guessing? i still don’t know if that was a dream. time isn’t as close as i think it is. it’s like when i turn back i can’t see it anymore, i’m waving back to get its attention—i still feel the weigh over my shoulder. i’m gripping what i want so tightly i might kill it. i can see the life leaving its eyes and veins pop. but it’s for me. i know it’s for me. oliynykova’s serve is so cool, it looks too cool to be that consistent and fluid. i think ariana grande was allowed to co-opt black culture without too much blowback from the public since she was a child star on nickelodeon. to me at least, working with dan schneider under the age of 18 gives you one hall pass for a socially unacceptable behavior. i’m thinking about this since i’m a) a gay guy and b) listening to positions in a time of tumultuous transition. this tweet fr follows me everywhere: there has to be a drink with the same flavor profile as classic red bull like i can’t keep drinking caffeine like this if i want to retire in brazil. i find it so endearing that my barber sings along to the radio while he cuts my hair. he’s not shy with it either, finding harmonies with the melody and vocalizing the ad-libs with precision. i sometimes join him in between cuts obviously avoiding eye contact even though everyone knows the words to s&m… i’m actually so glad i don’t have a childhood home. i don’t think i can visit a space of mine that has witnessed so much change. my presence is inherently transient. i’ve gotten so attached to places i’ve only lived in for a couple months, college dorms mostly. i look back at the photos and can explain ever design choice, every poster placement, every pin on my wall. why do we need to ai-generate little latin boys with grammys if we have bad bunny performing at the super bowl? i don’t have my pulse on the culture like i used to but i hope bugonia is a frontrunner in the oscar conversation. (aside: i’ve heard so much about one battle after another \[review below\] and tbh i wasn’t as impressive as it was made out to be. coming into it i had this expectation that pta succinctly captured the climate of post-covid america in three hours and while he kinda did, it didn’t move me at all? that’s a pretty loaded statement and i probably need to write a full-blown essay about it but i digress…) i think gpt by stayc is the best songs on love in the internet age post-covid and that’s a hill i’m willing to die on. i’m also only sharing this opinion because i think i’m dl, but in a k-pop sort of way. (aside: i’ve been on the periphery of k-pop stan culture for most of my time on twitter and regularly found myself running in the same circles as people with irene avis. in a way i felt an kinship with them and i don’t think i have time to explain further.) the world has always been broken i feel like 2% of all air canada employees speak french fr are you predicting trends or just observing what’s already in front of you? whenever i drink a strawberry matcha i feel like a fruit fly drinking sugar water in a wet lab is media literacy really at an all time low if the only people seeing these takes are also concerned with anti-intellectualism? we only talk about these issues as outsiders looking in instead of actually interacting with the realistic opinions of the people who are “media illiterate.” it also doesn’t help that these conversations mainly happen online with media publications regurgitating the spark notes version of a video essay an editor found on youtube. i guarantee you most people don’t know who mina le is. there’s something about the personality of the average british person that makes the traitors uk the best in the franchise emerald fennell’s movies are gonna be cult classics in 30 years and yes i’m being dead serious rather than relying on gestures, we rely on diction and syntax we need more horny b-roll footage industry is one of the only shows that treats sex scenes as something that is used to explicitly help the narrative to make relationships more obvious to viewer without it teetering on “show, don’t tell.” it feels less intimate—more viscous and voyeuristic. it’s like i’m watching something too realistic to suspend my belief that i’m watching television. imagine if tennis had loser brackets… like imagine an unseeded player grinding through the draw after losing early and then having to reset the bracket against sinner in the final… like i’d kill myself. life constantly feels like you’re traversing fog of  war and unlocking previously restricted areas; somehow MOBAs are a useful metaphor. time builds fondness and of course this knocked me off my ass btw: ]]>
  • this month started like most: overwhelming. while i usually take the contours of my life with relative grace, there’s something about this month that scares me. lots of decisions are being made in the next couple of weeks, let’s see if they’re correct—or at least worth the wait.
  • ever since i’ve been writing more, the specter over my shoulder is starting to be exorcised. reality seems to be taking shape and i finally have the eyes to see it.
  • i think i need at least ONE roommate. living alone is obviously a luxury most want but don’t receive, however, i’m starting to talk to myself way too much. it’s a habit i picked up in high school, regurgitating study material to myself silently in my school’s media center, but it’s ended up overstaying its welcome. i can clearly remember moving into my first apartment in dc rehearsing my professional elevator pitch in front of the bathroom mirror wearing only a towel while hitting power poses. i recite monologues around my place too, of course thinking i’m preforming like there’s an eviction notice on my door. anyway, i think i just need a pet. i was cat-sitting for my friend momina a couple months ago (if you’re reading this hiiiiii) and i was immediately taken aback having another living thing in my home. i don’t necessarily ignore the silence, i didn’t really have the ears to hear the frequency. it’s like the cat’s signs of life widened my understanding by reminding myself adolescence, back when i was sharing a room with one or both of my siblings. i miss the noise.

    • * i think i’m attracted to men that are built and look like walruses. * it’s fleeting, but i sometimes feel 17 again. it’s like i wake up and lose progress one day. sometimes i look in the mirror and see him staring back. is there something i’m missing? * i think i’m the only person who knows about madi sipes & the painted blue. i found the band right before covid hit while i was visiting home for spring break. i was in a phase of isolating myself and illegally watching movies on my 2017 macbook air until 2 AM, using the last couple of dollars from my work study paycheck to buy snacks from the vending machine by my dorm. some say i might’ve been struggling financially—i’m gonna have to agree. anywayyyyy, the music is kinda made for people who want to imagine what sex is like without actually having to experience it (there has to be a better way to say this my god). it’s melodramatic, sometimes gaudy, but always good idc. these lyrics were tearing 19-year-old me apartttttt.

    • i would’ve been that one grad student in elizabeth holmes’ chemistry lab praying on her downfall.
    • i’m sitting at my desk trying to work but i think this job is genuinely making me depressed. it’s hard to explain but going to the office feels like a funeral procession—i find myself gravitating to all black outfits and walking somberly to the metro as if i’m awaiting the fate of my livelihood. last year when it was even worse (lol yeah that’s possible) and my mom would comment on how sad my eyes looked on facetime. i didn’t believe her at first but now it’s all see when i look at myself in passing. it’s draining. i just want these people to take me seriously like everyone else in my life. why can’t they see me? but also who fucking cares about them? idk. it also sucks because i’m wearing my sophie sweater today and serving too much cunt for a corporate environment.

    • i will never forgive the initial commodification of large language models by openai. its gonna take so much longer for ai research to be taken seriously by the general population.
    • i deleted my twitter account about two years ago and while i’m eternally grateful for that decision, i’ve always been nervous that i’d be missing out on the inside jokes that make up most of internet culture. all that to say, thank god for those meme pages on instagram reposting tweets like i really needed someone to fill that vacuum of humor and they came through for me.
    • i have a memory from elementary school where i was in my music class and playing with a sharpened pencil on the carpet. all i remember next is the pencil going through my left hand and blood leaking all over my uniform shirt. it seemed that no one helped fast enough as the blood dried on my skin with smudges from my tears i’m guessing? i still don’t know if that was a dream.
    • time isn’t as close as i think it is. it’s like when i turn back i can’t see it anymore, i’m waving back to get its attention—i still feel the weigh over my shoulder.
    • i’m gripping what i want so tightly i might kill it. i can see the life leaving its eyes and veins pop. but it’s for me. i know it’s for me.
    • oliynykova’s serve is so cool, it looks too cool to be that consistent and fluid.
    • i think ariana grande was allowed to co-opt black culture without too much blowback from the public since she was a child star on nickelodeon. to me at least, working with dan schneider under the age of 18 gives you one hall pass for a socially unacceptable behavior. i’m thinking about this since i’m a) a gay guy and b) listening to positions in a time of tumultuous transition.
    • this tweet fr follows me everywhere:

    • there has to be a drink with the same flavor profile as classic red bull like i can’t keep drinking caffeine like this if i want to retire in brazil.
    • i find it so endearing that my barber sings along to the radio while he cuts my hair. he’s not shy with it either, finding harmonies with the melody and vocalizing the ad-libs with precision. i sometimes join him in between cuts obviously avoiding eye contact even though everyone knows the words to s&m…
    • i’m actually so glad i don’t have a childhood home. i don’t think i can visit a space of mine that has witnessed so much change. my presence is inherently transient. i’ve gotten so attached to places i’ve only lived in for a couple months, college dorms mostly. i look back at the photos and can explain ever design choice, every poster placement, every pin on my wall.
    • why do we need to ai-generate little latin boys with grammys if we have bad bunny performing at the super bowl?
    • i don’t have my pulse on the culture like i used to but i hope bugonia is a frontrunner in the oscar conversation. (aside: i’ve heard so much about one battle after another [review below] and tbh i wasn’t as impressive as it was made out to be. coming into it i had this expectation that pta succinctly captured the climate of post-covid america in three hours and while he kinda did, it didn’t move me at all? that’s a pretty loaded statement and i probably need to write a full-blown essay about it but i digress…)

    • i think gpt by stayc is the best songs on love in the internet age post-covid and that’s a hill i’m willing to die on. i’m also only sharing this opinion because i think i’m dl, but in a k-pop sort of way. (aside: i’ve been on the periphery of k-pop stan culture for most of my time on twitter and regularly found myself running in the same circles as people with irene avis. in a way i felt an kinship with them and i don’t think i have time to explain further.)
    • the world has always been broken
    • i feel like 2% of all air canada employees speak french fr
    • are you predicting trends or just observing what’s already in front of you?
    • whenever i drink a strawberry matcha i feel like a fruit fly drinking sugar water in a wet lab
    • is media literacy really at an all time low if the only people seeing these takes are also concerned with anti-intellectualism? we only talk about these issues as outsiders looking in instead of actually interacting with the realistic opinions of the people who are “media illiterate.” it also doesn’t help that these conversations mainly happen online with media publications regurgitating the spark notes version of a video essay an editor found on youtube. i guarantee you most people don’t know who mina le is.
    • there’s something about the personality of the average british person that makes the traitors uk the best in the franchise
    • emerald fennell’s movies are gonna be cult classics in 30 years and yes i’m being dead serious
    • rather than relying on gestures, we rely on diction and syntax
    • we need more horny b-roll footage
    • industry is one of the only shows that treats sex scenes as something that is used to explicitly help the narrative to make relationships more obvious to viewer without it teetering on “show, don’t tell.” it feels less intimate—more viscous and voyeuristic. it’s like i’m watching something too realistic to suspend my belief that i’m watching television.
    • imagine if tennis had loser brackets… like imagine an unseeded player grinding through the draw after losing early and then having to reset the bracket against sinner in the final… like i’d kill myself.
    • life constantly feels like you’re traversing fog of  war and unlocking previously restricted areas; somehow MOBAs are a useful metaphor.
    • time builds fondness
    • and of course this knocked me off my ass btw:

    ]]>     https://semanticdistance.io/post-001-february-bullets Wed, 18 Feb 2026 18:25:36 +0000     draft 003 - (some) january bullets https://semanticdistance.io/drafts-003-january-bullets?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[not to sound like every 25 year old ever but i’ve been thinking a lot about neuroplasticity. it’s pretty rare that i lose my train of thought while i speak as i’ve always tried my best to be exact with language, even as a kid. it was to the point where i wouldn’t event start essays in my 8th grade languages arts class since i needed my introduction to be perfect. and ngl, this kinda followed me into adulthood as i get into writing consistently as a hobby, evidenced by my countless essays drafts i furiously wrote in a dream-like haze after reading for more than like ten minutes. i feel like there’s a metaphor there if you squint hard enough. i mostly find myself lacking the words in the middle of work meetings, looking to the side of the screen trying to connect the cerebral dots in my brain back again, making eye contact with megan on my katesye poster that is blue tacked above my desk. my apartment is a two minute walk from a harris teeter (this is giving context i swear) and i wear the whole most horrific outfits of my life in there—like i know it dad would side eye me if i was stranger. it’s mostly bc that short of a walk doesn’t necessitate a full “outfit” to be worn. and by “outfit” i mean putting on jeans and a t-shirt i guess? it’s not like putting on those articles of clothing takes a ton of effort, but why do i need to try that hard before 9 AM. anyway, it makes me eternally grateful i don’t live by any of my coworkers. i would be absolutely stunned if i saw my manager saw me in the dairy aisle (she might be lactose intolerant idk her tea), staring directly at the banana socks i stole from my bf peeking through my all-black birkenstocks. that fr just sent a chill down my spine. i’m being dead serious when i say this but why don’t more people use vsco? !--more-- ok this year i really need to learn spanish. not only because i have moots in south america (#iykyk), but because i simply can’t believe there are white people out there living in china speaking the language near perfectly with the people at food stands. like if they can do that, i should be able to order at a dominican restaurant without sounding like a toddler. i’ve been obsessed with watching recaps of niche internet drama on youtube for the past couple of weeks now. the sheer volume of videos is so baffling to me as there’s countless beefs between creators i’ve never heard of that sometimes lasts months on end? like there’s feuds between those influencers you only see in those reels your gen x mom sends you. they’re truly living in a different reality and i applaud those youtubers for putting in the time to chronicle these events to me while i sit in my bed… sometimes high. why do i know what podcast ash trevino went on (sitting with her kids mind you) after she received allegations of not giving said kids a bed to sleep on? why do i also know that the host of that podcast recently released a course on “how to be an influencer” with an application that didn’t need any social media handles? let me stop. i don’t know why i always scrape by surviving january. every year, without fail, i find myself counting down the days to february 1st. i think it started in high school when i was waiting on college app decisions for what felt like an eternity, desperately trying to be validated for the countless hours i spent studying for ap exams. it all felt like a blur. somehow simultaneously comforting yet foreboding? i just remember being really scared. it’s a new year of my life and it’s up to me to carve a path for myself and i'm like what? 17? how can i be trusted to make my own choices, let alone a dream to chase. maybe that is reserved for someone else. i don’t think i’ve ever shaken off that feeling and it’s kinda metastasizing in my psyche, praying to get found out. trixie mattel is rupaul’s successor i’ve been listening to my playlist from 2019 and i think south florida was patient 0 for that gen z aesthetic everyone posts on their pinterest boards. i get the association with la and emma chamberlain and that side of the internet plastered with video thumbnails of rex orange county refracted by the discoloration of a jakarta filter—however comma—i think broward county is the real inspo. do you even know who traithalon is? right…]]>
  • not to sound like every 25 year old ever but i’ve been thinking a lot about neuroplasticity. it’s pretty rare that i lose my train of thought while i speak as i’ve always tried my best to be exact with language, even as a kid. it was to the point where i wouldn’t event start essays in my 8th grade languages arts class since i needed my introduction to be perfect. and ngl, this kinda followed me into adulthood as i get into writing consistently as a hobby, evidenced by my countless essays drafts i furiously wrote in a dream-like haze after reading for more than like ten minutes. i feel like there’s a metaphor there if you squint hard enough. i mostly find myself lacking the words in the middle of work meetings, looking to the side of the screen trying to connect the cerebral dots in my brain back again, making eye contact with megan on my katesye poster that is blue tacked above my desk.
  • my apartment is a two minute walk from a harris teeter (this is giving context i swear) and i wear the whole most horrific outfits of my life in there—like i know it dad would side eye me if i was stranger. it’s mostly bc that short of a walk doesn’t necessitate a full “outfit” to be worn. and by “outfit” i mean putting on jeans and a t-shirt i guess? it’s not like putting on those articles of clothing takes a ton of effort, but why do i need to try that hard before 9 AM. anyway, it makes me eternally grateful i don’t live by any of my coworkers. i would be absolutely stunned if i saw my manager saw me in the dairy aisle (she might be lactose intolerant idk her tea), staring directly at the banana socks i stole from my bf peeking through my all-black birkenstocks. that fr just sent a chill down my spine.
  • i’m being dead serious when i say this but why don’t more people use vsco?
    • ok this year i really need to learn spanish. not only because i have moots in south america (#iykyk), but because i simply can’t believe there are white people out there living in china speaking the language near perfectly with the people at food stands. like if they can do that, i should be able to order at a dominican restaurant without sounding like a toddler.
    • i’ve been obsessed with watching recaps of niche internet drama on youtube for the past couple of weeks now. the sheer volume of videos is so baffling to me as there’s countless beefs between creators i’ve never heard of that sometimes lasts months on end? like there’s feuds between those influencers you only see in those reels your gen x mom sends you. they’re truly living in a different reality and i applaud those youtubers for putting in the time to chronicle these events to me while i sit in my bed… sometimes high. why do i know what podcast ash trevino went on (sitting with her kids mind you) after she received allegations of not giving said kids a bed to sleep on? why do i also know that the host of that podcast recently released a course on “how to be an influencer” with an application that didn’t need any social media handles? let me stop.
    • i don’t know why i always scrape by surviving january. every year, without fail, i find myself counting down the days to february 1st. i think it started in high school when i was waiting on college app decisions for what felt like an eternity, desperately trying to be validated for the countless hours i spent studying for ap exams. it all felt like a blur. somehow simultaneously comforting yet foreboding? i just remember being really scared. it’s a new year of my life and it’s up to me to carve a path for myself and i'm like what? 17? how can i be trusted to make my own choices, let alone a dream to chase. maybe that is reserved for someone else. i don’t think i’ve ever shaken off that feeling and it’s kinda metastasizing in my psyche, praying to get found out.
    • trixie mattel is rupaul’s successor
    • i’ve been listening to my playlist from 2019 and i think south florida was patient 0 for that gen z aesthetic everyone posts on their pinterest boards. i get the association with la and emma chamberlain and that side of the internet plastered with video thumbnails of rex orange county refracted by the discoloration of a jakarta filter—however comma—i think broward county is the real inspo. do you even know who traithalon is? right…
    ]]>     https://semanticdistance.io/drafts-003-january-bullets Mon, 02 Feb 2026 14:21:26 +0000     draft 002 – living and exploring! https://semanticdistance.io/drafts-002-living-and-exploring?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[i’ve been keeping a running list of “ideas” in my notion for coming up on three years now. the term “idea” being from the podcast, exploration: live!, where charlie and natalie share their everyday conjectures and hypotheses with each other, with emma, their producer, riffing in the background and adding her (always) correct takes. when i first listened, i felt like running into old college friends at a mutual friend’s party yelling “OMG HIIIII” from across the crowd, b-lining towards each other trying not to knock drinks over in the process. they also had the same energy as a girl that would defend you from bullies (who were always homophobic) and ask you how your mom is in between classes. needless to say, i was obsessed. ... !--more-- anyway, it feels super hyperbolic to say that these two comedians and headgum et al. have absolutely changed my life, but it’s true! i’m observing everything around me with a keen eye and curious spirit, actively trying to shrink everyday interactions into microsomes of the human experience. i’m looking for through lines between everything i love with almost surgical-like precision. ... my worldview until further notice can be represented by a series of questions i can return to when i stay in my bed a little too long, lingering on the transience of everything: how much love can i see? recognize? really observe and put it into words? can i bring these axioms to my friends and family? will i provide them a succinct, clever collection of words that perfectly describes something they’ve been feeling, for what as felt like forever, as they erupt in laughter that it surprises even me? can i be the person the closest the distance between what someone sees and what they have to say? can i be an arbitrator of articulation—is that the just same thing as a writer? ... i don’t entirely know what i want out of this blog, but i do want to start somewhere. for the last couple of years, i’ve made several half-baked attempts to house my writing in a place that isn’t my phone, sending, what seemed like, endless iterations of prose that almost had something to say but i bit the bullet too soon and posted it on substack (no, i’m not linking it </3). i guess through all that noise, i just want my words to offer some type of ease or relief. some of them might be bad and unfunny! that’s fine! y’all can swipe up and offer opinions… i give up the floor for when i fall flat on my face. maybe that’s too much to ask of myself so soon, but i think we can eventually get there.]]> i’ve been keeping a running list of “ideas” in my notion for coming up on three years now. the term “idea” being from the podcast, exploration: live!, where charlie and natalie share their everyday conjectures and hypotheses with each other, with emma, their producer, riffing in the background and adding her (always) correct takes. when i first listened, i felt like running into old college friends at a mutual friend’s party yelling “OMG HIIIII” from across the crowd, b-lining towards each other trying not to knock drinks over in the process. they also had the same energy as a girl that would defend you from bullies (who were always homophobic) and ask you how your mom is in between classes. needless to say, i was obsessed.

    ...

    anyway, it feels super hyperbolic to say that these two comedians and headgum et al. have absolutely changed my life, but it’s true! i’m observing everything around me with a keen eye and curious spirit, actively trying to shrink everyday interactions into microsomes of the human experience. i’m looking for through lines between everything i love with almost surgical-like precision.

    ...

    my worldview until further notice can be represented by a series of questions i can return to when i stay in my bed a little too long, lingering on the transience of everything: how much love can i see? recognize? really observe and put it into words? can i bring these axioms to my friends and family? will i provide them a succinct, clever collection of words that perfectly describes something they’ve been feeling, for what as felt like forever, as they erupt in laughter that it surprises even me? can i be the person the closest the distance between what someone sees and what they have to say? can i be an arbitrator of articulation—is that the just same thing as a writer?

    ...

    i don’t entirely know what i want out of this blog, but i do want to start somewhere. for the last couple of years, i’ve made several half-baked attempts to house my writing in a place that isn’t my phone, sending, what seemed like, endless iterations of prose that almost had something to say but i bit the bullet too soon and posted it on substack (no, i’m not linking it </3). i guess through all that noise, i just want my words to offer some type of ease or relief. some of them might be bad and unfunny! that’s fine! y’all can swipe up and offer opinions… i give up the floor for when i fall flat on my face. maybe that’s too much to ask of myself so soon, but i think we can eventually get there.

    ]]>     https://semanticdistance.io/drafts-002-living-and-exploring Sat, 29 Nov 2025 16:07:51 +0000     draft 001 – even in the dark, we sing https://semanticdistance.io/drafts-001-even-in-the-dark-we-sing?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[i think i was the only kid in america that grew up with a scarcity mindset before i turned 5. i’m not sure if this is one of those childhood stories that had the truth bent a couple times when my parents relayed the story back to me as i’ve gotten older, but nevertheless, it developed. was it because i became anxious at the beginning of the month to see if rent will be paid on time or lived as an immigrant from a non-english speaking country? well, no! in fact, i grew up without worrying about where my next meal would come from AND i don’t speak spanish—i deeply apologize to my ancestors, i promise i’ll pick it up before i turn 30. … !--more-- anyway, i’m trying my best to not become the “licensed” therapist you see on tiktok—who, mind you, makes a living by analyzing the body language of female celebrities under the age of 25–but there’s only so many ways to approach this character flaw without airing on the side of pseudoscience. … at 13, i was lamenting to a youth group leader (my mom’s a witch now, by the way) saying, “how can this summer retreat be any fun! i don’t know anyone, i’ve never left the state without my parents, and all these kids are gonna hate me before i’m weird!” maybe “weird” wasn’t the correct word, i think what i was looking for was “gay” (lol) since i orbited around only the girls after service ended and unabashedly wore t-shirts with lady gaga’s face plastered front and center at family weekend events. … it still followed me through my adolescence though. I was 16 at debate practice on a random tuesday after school, borderline dry heaving in a stall next to media center because my sat score didn’t break 1400, all the while i had my coach ask me if i finished my prep doc for the tournament this weekend in ft. lauderdale. there was a constant blame i put on myself: it’s my fault that i didn’t try hard enough. you know, what’s the point of trying if everyone around me is achieving academic accolades without breaking a sweat. why even start improving if i’m going to get upstaged by white kids that live in west pines in a house with a pool? … what if i reckoned with mary oliver’s words and let the soft animal of my body love what if loves? what if the instagram witches that appear every three reels were right? what if entering a mode of neutrality aligns you with all your greatest desires? does that extend to what i want the world to become? will infants be spared in the wake of ethnic cleansing ? will archaic belief systems that anchor the minds of right-wing politicians crumble to ground? will we go back to indigenous ways of thought about respecting the earth as the divine entity it is? what else would i truly want besides living in a world that has no obstacles in progressing forward? will i escape the fate of being a footnote in future think pieces that reference the political climate of the early 21st century? to me, the answer is an emphatic yes. when i read the words of those that came before, whether they be academics, organizers, or regular people documenting their lives, they didn’t let the uncertainty of the world overpower the magnitude of their imagination. i want to be that person for someone, even it’s just one distracted, unassuming reader that happens to stumble upon this blog a few decades down the line while browsing the 10th page of search results from google. i hope my words as they appear on the screen outlive my time on this physical plane. to you in the future, it may be dark, but you are undoubtably the light. whatever may be happening around you, both in and out of your control, there’s hope in every corner room you enter. maybe you’re lantern of sorts, illuminating the landscaped features around you. i’m currently living in a world that’s cannibalizing itself because we are still interpreting a document crafted by group of white men who owned slaves in the 18th century to usher in the dawn of american independence as holy scripture. is it privileged to be hopeful because someone on my phone told me to, laying in a bed my cushy job paid for? is it privileged to question the privilege, having a stomach full of food and living, breathing parents that can hold my body up when i can’t do it myself? maybe it’s supposed to be like that. i don’t question where this new worldview came from. all that matters is that i developed it in the first place. all i know is that even in the dark, i sing with all the force i can—breaking blood vessels in my eyes and straining my vocal cords until veins are visible on my neck yelling “yes! i’m here! everything is cyclical and history rhymes! the world is good because i’m in it!” yeah, that’s it. the world is good because i’m in it. and that goes for you too.]]> i think i was the only kid in america that grew up with a scarcity mindset before i turned 5. i’m not sure if this is one of those childhood stories that had the truth bent a couple times when my parents relayed the story back to me as i’ve gotten older, but nevertheless, it developed. was it because i became anxious at the beginning of the month to see if rent will be paid on time or lived as an immigrant from a non-english speaking country? well, no! in fact, i grew up without worrying about where my next meal would come from AND i don’t speak spanish—i deeply apologize to my ancestors, i promise i’ll pick it up before i turn 30.

    …

    anyway, i’m trying my best to not become the “licensed” therapist you see on tiktok—who, mind you, makes a living by analyzing the body language of female celebrities under the age of 25–but there’s only so many ways to approach this character flaw without airing on the side of pseudoscience.

    …

    at 13, i was lamenting to a youth group leader (my mom’s a witch now, by the way) saying, “how can this summer retreat be any fun! i don’t know anyone, i’ve never left the state without my parents, and all these kids are gonna hate me before i’m weird!” maybe “weird” wasn’t the correct word, i think what i was looking for was “gay” (lol) since i orbited around only the girls after service ended and unabashedly wore t-shirts with lady gaga’s face plastered front and center at family weekend events.

    …

    it still followed me through my adolescence though. I was 16 at debate practice on a random tuesday after school, borderline dry heaving in a stall next to media center because my sat score didn’t break 1400, all the while i had my coach ask me if i finished my prep doc for the tournament this weekend in ft. lauderdale. there was a constant blame i put on myself: it’s my fault that i didn’t try hard enough. you know, what’s the point of trying if everyone around me is achieving academic accolades without breaking a sweat. why even start improving if i’m going to get upstaged by white kids that live in west pines in a house with a pool?

    …

    what if i reckoned with mary oliver’s words and let the soft animal of my body love what if loves? what if the instagram witches that appear every three reels were right? what if entering a mode of neutrality aligns you with all your greatest desires? does that extend to what i want the world to become? will infants be spared in the wake of ethnic cleansing ? will archaic belief systems that anchor the minds of right-wing politicians crumble to ground? will we go back to indigenous ways of thought about respecting the earth as the divine entity it is? what else would i truly want besides living in a world that has no obstacles in progressing forward? will i escape the fate of being a footnote in future think pieces that reference the political climate of the early 21st century?

    to me, the answer is an emphatic yes. when i read the words of those that came before, whether they be academics, organizers, or regular people documenting their lives, they didn’t let the uncertainty of the world overpower the magnitude of their imagination. i want to be that person for someone, even it’s just one distracted, unassuming reader that happens to stumble upon this blog a few decades down the line while browsing the 10th page of search results from google. i hope my words as they appear on the screen outlive my time on this physical plane. to you in the future, it may be dark, but you are undoubtably the light. whatever may be happening around you, both in and out of your control, there’s hope in every corner room you enter. maybe you’re lantern of sorts, illuminating the landscaped features around you. i’m currently living in a world that’s cannibalizing itself because we are still interpreting a document crafted by group of white men who owned slaves in the 18th century to usher in the dawn of american independence as holy scripture.

    is it privileged to be hopeful because someone on my phone told me to, laying in a bed my cushy job paid for? is it privileged to question the privilege, having a stomach full of food and living, breathing parents that can hold my body up when i can’t do it myself? maybe it’s supposed to be like that. i don’t question where this new worldview came from. all that matters is that i developed it in the first place. all i know is that even in the dark, i sing with all the force i can—breaking blood vessels in my eyes and straining my vocal cords until veins are visible on my neck yelling “yes! i’m here! everything is cyclical and history rhymes! the world is good because i’m in it!” yeah, that’s it. the world is good because i’m in it. and that goes for you too.

    ]]>     https://semanticdistance.io/drafts-001-even-in-the-dark-we-sing Sat, 08 Nov 2025 18:20:29 +0000     absorption 001 – audrey hobert, i love you https://semanticdistance.io/whos-the-clown?pk_campaign=rss-feed <![CDATA[who’s the clown? — audrey hobert when i first listened to “chateau” (high btw), i sent the song to two of my friends and basically told them audrey hobert is olivia rodrigo’s kid through ivf? i think at the time i didn’t say taylor swift because i didn’t want to be that annoying gay guy that thinks all white women with guitars make the same music. anyway, this album is really good! it does a great job at doing what it needs to do, and well: be a straightforward pop record with snappy lyrics, clean production, and a peek into what hobert can do as a songwriter. that’s not to say this album is basic, it actually has a lot of moments that surprised me—made me rewind to certain sections of songs more than once just to hear how each layer melded into one another (re: silver jubilee, she was rapping on that song idc). her visuals for the tracks themselves are also pretty cohesive for someone that has only has one project out. she really impressed me with what she did on thirst trap, but the music video for bowling alley is more of a standout for me. it’s dynamic, energetic, and honestly really funny—reminding me of the types of videos that would play on disney channel at like 4 am (you thought i was gonna say something about taylor swift but i didn’t). i feel like hobert is kinda in on the joke of what she’s doing? like “yeah i’m making this for an album rollout but at least i can have some fun while i’m doing it,” but in a surprisingly authentic way that is hard to come by (which probably happened because pop stars didn’t retain their well hidden lifestyles from early 2000s, we are bombarded by how they through tiktok quotas their labels put on them… ALLEGEDLY). closing thought: i think hobert paid a karmic debt in a past life because wdym brother is malcom todd (whole other conversation), her roommate at nyu was gracie abrams (an even longer conversation), and got signed to rca like right after those co-writing credits hit her wikipedia? !--more-- excalibur — good morning there’s a tenderness in good morning’s music that’s hard to replicate, even if you mimic their warm style of production where the guitars feel like they’re hugging your ears. their commitment to the feeling is juxtaposed by the lyrics, where when taken on face value, you’d be surprised that it’s a soft indie rock song. like look at this section of the second verse: So you catch a fresh glimpse into Hell It's a man down, the cops broke his teeth and he was screaming for help Well, it's only here and that's how they'll tell it All that sex and violence makes it so easy to sell it pretty visceral imagery accompanying subject matter that isn’t great either lol but i really like it! their project from 2019 “the option” is a good next step for anyone wanting to dive deeper into their music. sub is suchhhhh a good song so TAP IN! slate — voda fuji trap music so good it can make you cry… like i really wish i was kidding. i’m starting to feel like i’m 16 again listening to young thug and travis scott on the way to debate practice (i contain multitudes btw). i’m surprised at how mature fuji sounds on these tracks given how small his discography is. also the production is SO good and i can tell he cares about the details without sacrificing too much from the track if that makes sense? when i say things like that i think about 2010s pop music that was objectively well-produced, but lacks that soul or “it” factor that makes the genre so universally liked. i’m seeing this a lot in the underground rap scenes both here and in europe where it feels like every new artist somehow took an intro ableton course and can mix/master music like they’re not new to this. anyway, voda fuji better get his flowers soon but i lowkey wanna keep him to myself.]]> who’s the clown? — audrey hobert

    when i first listened to “chateau” (high btw), i sent the song to two of my friends and basically told them audrey hobert is olivia rodrigo’s kid through ivf? i think at the time i didn’t say taylor swift because i didn’t want to be that annoying gay guy that thinks all white women with guitars make the same music. anyway, this album is really good! it does a great job at doing what it needs to do, and well: be a straightforward pop record with snappy lyrics, clean production, and a peek into what hobert can do as a songwriter. that’s not to say this album is basic, it actually has a lot of moments that surprised me—made me rewind to certain sections of songs more than once just to hear how each layer melded into one another (re: silver jubilee, she was rapping on that song idc).

    her visuals for the tracks themselves are also pretty cohesive for someone that has only has one project out. she really impressed me with what she did on thirst trap, but the music video for bowling alley is more of a standout for me. it’s dynamic, energetic, and honestly really funny—reminding me of the types of videos that would play on disney channel at like 4 am (you thought i was gonna say something about taylor swift but i didn’t). i feel like hobert is kinda in on the joke of what she’s doing? like “yeah i’m making this for an album rollout but at least i can have some fun while i’m doing it,” but in a surprisingly authentic way that is hard to come by (which probably happened because pop stars didn’t retain their well hidden lifestyles from early 2000s, we are bombarded by how they through tiktok quotas their labels put on them… ALLEGEDLY).

    closing thought: i think hobert paid a karmic debt in a past life because wdym brother is malcom todd (whole other conversation), her roommate at nyu was gracie abrams (an even longer conversation), and got signed to rca like right after those co-writing credits hit her wikipedia?

    excalibur — good morning

    there’s a tenderness in good morning’s music that’s hard to replicate, even if you mimic their warm style of production where the guitars feel like they’re hugging your ears. their commitment to the feeling is juxtaposed by the lyrics, where when taken on face value, you’d be surprised that it’s a soft indie rock song. like look at this section of the second verse:

    So you catch a fresh glimpse into Hell It's a man down, the cops broke his teeth and he was screaming for help Well, it's only here and that's how they'll tell it All that sex and violence makes it so easy to sell it

    pretty visceral imagery accompanying subject matter that isn’t great either lol but i really like it! their project from 2019 “the option” is a good next step for anyone wanting to dive deeper into their music. sub is suchhhhh a good song so TAP IN!

    slate — voda fuji

    trap music so good it can make you cry… like i really wish i was kidding. i’m starting to feel like i’m 16 again listening to young thug and travis scott on the way to debate practice (i contain multitudes btw). i’m surprised at how mature fuji sounds on these tracks given how small his discography is. also the production is SO good and i can tell he cares about the details without sacrificing too much from the track if that makes sense? when i say things like that i think about 2010s pop music that was objectively well-produced, but lacks that soul or “it” factor that makes the genre so universally liked. i’m seeing this a lot in the underground rap scenes both here and in europe where it feels like every new artist somehow took an intro ableton course and can mix/master music like they’re not new to this. anyway, voda fuji better get his flowers soon but i lowkey wanna keep him to myself.

    ]]>     https://semanticdistance.io/whos-the-clown Tue, 21 Oct 2025 23:42:45 +0000