I've been working on a series that follows the life of a trumpet player in a sort of 1920s setting, loosely inspired by Cortázar and his writing around Charlie Parker. Jazz musicians were just built differently. Their stories are so often filled with passion, excess, love, hatred, addiction, obsession… all of it. And while making this series I started thinking: We have these long relaxing videos on YouTube, so why not on X? I spend a lot of time here, sometimes between work, sometimes while taking care of baby Luna, so I thought I'd try uploading this 3-hour pixel art loop and see what you think. I think it hits exactly that jazzy, late-night, relaxing vibe I was going for. Music made with Suno v6. Part of Passing Through.

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One thing I find really interesting is how new models imagine themselves as they keep learning from you. I asked @bot to create a video of my work, giving it access to a folder where I stashed my latest work. The results are super corny, yes. Nevertheless, I think it's almost like a child would depict their dad/mom. And that kinda makes me positive about alignment in this case. It's cheesy and yet lovely at the same time, haha.

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“The world is turning… I hope it don’t turn away.” - Neil Young Sometimes one wishes just to stay home and listen to some records…

I knew it

Blue Skies today 🟦🌇🌁

Should I stop now? haha

You make me feel so young ☀️

In 1959 Julio Cortázar wrote El perseguidor, dedicated in memoriam Ch. P. His saxophonist Johnny Carter is Charlie Parker seen through grief: a genius obsessed with time, who loses his horn on the métro, plays "tomorrow" in the middle of a take, and is chased by the thing he is chasing until it kills him. The story is told by the critic who wrote his biography, a man who understood the music and missed the man. Reading it, I felt the injustice of that ending, both the story's and the real one. Parker died at thirty-four. He deserved mornings. These loops are my answer. They borrow Cortázar's obsession with time: each scene is a moment that never ends and keeps coming back to itself, the way Johnny felt a minute could open from the inside. But where Cortázar's pursuer runs out of time, mine is given more of it. He plays the late set and lives to see the ferry at dawn. He stops to smell the lilacs. The empty seat in the theatre fills. It isn't Parker, and it doesn't pretend to rewrite him. It's a small, stubborn act of tenderness toward everyone the music cost too much: a happier ending, offered the only way an artist can.

Just one of those things 🎺

GM ☀️ A flower is a lovesome thing …

On commence... 🇫🇷 What do we fight for? Why did it all start? Look at Fiat, the true chains of your command. Allons enfants de la Patrie...