Chris DeLuca

I don’t know how it happened, but I need everyone to know that my cousin and I are the coolest motherfuckers in the world right now.

Two white people walk confidently towards the camera. The first, my cousin Karolina, is wearing dark sunglasses, a black baseball hat, leather pants, and a jacket. I'm behind her, wearing polarized sunglasses, dark jeans, and a grey balzer over a black half button. We look dope.

When some people say, “there’s nothing new under the sun,” they mean, “pure originality is a myth; isn’t it wonderful to be in this continuum of human thought?”

When other people say it, they mean, “I’m a hack.”

Good to be wary of advice that sounds too much like a self pep talk.

An especially poignant title text from xkcd’s Relationship Advice comic.

I am a creative. I am too busy making the next thing to spend too much time deeply considering that almost nothing I make will come anywhere near the greatness I comically aspire to.

I relate. From I am a creative over on A List Apart.

Unexpected Trek

I’ve been excavating old writings. This is the oldest one I’m willing to share at this point. Flash fiction that made it into my college literary journal Font circa 2006. Confirms my … Read more

Another dithering experiment, along with my fascination with corners of ignored industrial space.

A green, dithered photo of a shallow allyway. There are brick buildings forming the corridor, with a cemement staircase leading to an embedded metal door. There's a pile of scrap metal neatly stacked in front of the staircase.

Playing with dithering.

A dithered, dark shot of a small crowd in a warehouse. The people are staring towards purple lights.

I’m back in New York Ciiiiiiiity

Actively marketing yourself and your work, and setting up creative camp where the money is: that’s doing business. It is not inherently “selling out.” Anyone who suggests otherwise can go fuck themselves.

Scalzi on Jennings on the outdated notion of the sell out

It’s going to be a long day today traveling back to New York. I hope I’m not cursing myself by saying this, but I’ve found LAX to be fine.

Dave and I have been cackling at this shot of me. I look like a depressed mouse.

Extreme close up angle of me, a whir man with beard and glasses. The angle makes my eyes look huge and my chin taper into a tiny point.

I’m not above a dog graffiti shot.

At a random LA warehouse for my cousins bands soundcheck.

A industrial warehouse with three white people playing instruments. Two guitars and one guy crouching by a monitor.

I’ve been walking a lot in L.A., so I have the Missing Persons song pretty lodged in my head.

There are no public trash cans in the entire city of L.A. No, I haven’t done an extensive search, and yes I’m still right.

My January has been monopolized by moving into an apartment and traveling to California for work and to see friends and family. In between all that, here’s what I was watching, reading, and … Read more

I setup a local LLM integration in Neovim via ollama.nvim, and it works well. Now the big question: will it actually be useful?

You know what old English had right? The letter “thorn”, which made the “th” sound. You could spell “the” with two letters, “þe”, and when you’re saying it out loud it would sound like “thorny”. Come on!

One time, in college, I went to senior prom as Zoro.

Three young white men wearing suits and serious expressions. Me, on the right, is wearing an eye mask and hat and a sneer.

Just had a panicked moment thinking water could spoil, then realized I had accidentally drank from the kombucha glass.

It was once critics who helped shape cultural values – spotting a trend here, putting a scene on the map there – but now the process is driven by metrics. Context, the land of the artist and the critic, has been determined valueless (unless algorithmic) by the mainstream, which honestly never much cared for it to begin with.

A thoughtful piece on art and criticism that’s surprisingly hopeful in the face of change by Yancey Strickler.

Plus for visiting LA: being able to work outside in January.

A photo of me, a bald, bearded white man. I’m sitting outside near a tree, sun speckles lighting everything up. My expression is almost blank, with a weird-ass hint of a smile. I’m creeped out of myself in retrospect.

I learned the term “kazorcastra” at our company retreat, and I love it. It’s a group of kazoo players, and apparently it’s real.

I’m missing Godzilla Minus One Minus Color, but then again dogs permenantly suffer from the reverse so I think I’m doing okay. 🍿

A vivid splash of red and orange sunset over a bright blue sky, jet black mountains in the foreground.