Dark Forests rule everything around us. Signal chats to plan wars? Check. Private group chats where rival athletes discuss injuries? Check. Communications increasingly monitored by states and authorities? Check. A decrease in posting on social media? Check again.

In 2019 I wrote that the internet was becoming dangerous and people were moving out of the mainstream and into dark forests instead: 

“The internet of today is a battleground… The public and semi-public spaces we created to develop our identities, cultivate communities, and gain in knowledge were overtaken by forces using them to gain power of various kinds (market, political, social, and so on). This is the atmosphere of the mainstream web today: a relentless competition for power. As this competition has grown in size and ferocity, an increasing number of the population has scurried into their dark forests to avoid the fray.”

This was written during a much more agreeable time on the web and the world than now. The post worried about the consequences of the dark forest: that as more of us retreated from the mainstream, public spaces would be increasingly filled by extreme voices working to gain power and influence instead.

What was a theory of growth in the hidden corners of the internet has moved to the heart of it all in the years since. Even as humans use social media less, online spaces are increasingly being used for ideological gains, now aided by AI. There’s now more bot content than human content being posted for the first time. As Sean Monahan (formerly of K-Hole) writes, the iconic Dead Internet Theory that the internet will be increasingly non-human — which multiple tech leaders have recently echoed — combines with the Dark Forest Theory to explain the strange internet we inhabit today:

The internet is dying on the outside but growing on the inside.

One way to look at this schism is through the lens of who makes the content — human or machine. Another lens is who has more power. As Domination and the Arts of Resistance, a book by James C. Scott (author of “Seeing Like a State”) explores, subjugated people maintain their cultures and ideas in the face of oppression using “hidden transcripts”:

“The theatrical imperatives that normally prevail in situations of domination produce a public transcript in close conformity with how the dominant group would wish to have things appear. The dominant never control the stage absolutely, but their wishes normally prevail. In the short run, it is in the interest of the subordinate to produce a more or less credible performance, speaking the lines and making the gestures he knows are expected of him. 

“’Hidden transcript’ characterizes discourse that takes place ‘off stage,’ beyond direct observation by powerholders. The hidden transcript is thus derivative in the sense that it consists of those offstage speeches, gestures, and practices that confirm, contradict, or inflect what appears in the public transcript. 

“We do not wish to prejudge, by definition, the relation between what is said in the face of power and what is said behind its back. Power relations are not so straightforward that we can call what is said in power-laden contexts false and what is said offstage true. 

“What is certainly the case, however, is that the hidden transcript is produced for a different audience and under different constraints of power than the public transcript.”

Hidden transcripts are drafted, revised, and designed in dark forests safe from outsider view. Public channels are where dominant powers dictate and control narratives. As authoritarian regimes around the world increase their monitoring and persecution of those who do not fall in line with the dominant story, these spaces and their security become increasingly important.

This is coming from the voice of a white guy who’s used to being positively included in the system. But this presumption of safety has never been available to others.

This month the Ezra and Cecile Zilkha Gallery at Wesleyan University is hosting a gallery show called “DFT 2025” — “DFT” an abbreviation for Dark Forest Theory. The show’s co-curator, artist Salim Green, uses this shorthand to describe the Dark Forest concept, particularly as it relates to Black people who “may gain agency through concealment.” The show asks: “How might a practice of hiding, abstraction (as a tool and strategy), evasion, a refusal of visibility and insistence on privacy, and opting out, facilitate freedom?”

The show includes works from Rhea Dillon, Nikita Gale, Rodney McMillian, and others exploring the tensions between what’s hidden and visible. It also includes DFT Radio, a streaming station broadcasting sounds and ideas from the show as oblique echolocations from the Dark Forest.

Over the past two years, the Dark Forest Collective, a private group chat of 15 writers, has published three books charting unseen universes: The Dark Forest Anthology of the Internet; Antimemetics by Nadia Asparouhova (one of The New Yorker’s best books of the year); and A Sexual History of the Internet by Mindy Seu. Each a map of worlds that aren’t always meant to be seen.

The dark forests have grown so vast that the metaphor now needs infrastructure. At Metalabel we’re building the Dark Forest Operating System, or DFOS: software that makes it possible for small groups to create their own private internets. The idea that once described how we hide will soon be architecture for how we can safely gather and not be alone.

Everything public feels like an ad. Everything private feels real. The gap widens every day. The dark forest is where decisions are made; public space is where they’re performed. In an age of state dominance, only hidden spaces keep our conversations and ideals off the menu.

Dogs, they’re just like us! Perpetually anxious pizza lovers.

The pups taking center stage in Alison Friend’s beloved paintings sport a range of personalities that feel all too familiar: several hungrily snack on pastries, sip cocktails, and even present their self-portraits on everyone’s favorite toy, the Etch A Sketch.

Friend is known for her witty pieces that portray our domestic pals in the style of the Old Masters, lending a sense of reverence to her furry subjects. The artist’s first monograph, Dog Only Knows, is available this month from Artisan and collects 125 of her canine works, a small fraction of which are shown here.

Pre-order your copy in the Colossal Shop, and find more from Friend on Instagram.

Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $7 per month. The article Alison Friend Packs a Lot of Personality into Witty Dog Portraits appeared first on Colossal.

After many years, I watched a film that touched my heart. A film that reminded me it’s always the little things that we overlook that make life worth living. A film that re-introduced me to me. It was a Japanese film called Perfect Days.

The story was simple:

The hero is a toilet cleaner. He lives alone. He wakes at six every morning. Brushes his teeth. Puts on his uniform. Drives his small van. Puts in a cassette in the player. Drives listening to English songs from the 80s. Cleans public toilets across Tokyo. Takes photographs of trees. Smiles at sunlight coming through the leaves. Eats in the same restaurant. Returns home. Reads a book under the lamp. Switches it off. Sleeps.

And the next day…. the same.

Just watching the film made me feel so calm. Like the film itself gave me a warm hug and whispered: “It’s okay to live a slow boring life”.

When the film ended, I made myself a cup of green tea and sat on the balcony. Just looking at the trees and the sky and feeling the warm cup in my hands. And I said to myself: “this is home”.

I feel the world has become too fast. Too restless. Too demanding. We don’t say it, but there’s always this quiet pressure we all feel. A pressure to know all the latest trends. The latest fashion. The latest tech. A pressure that creates a subtle fear inside our hearts.

The fear of being left behind…

I remember my father. When computers first came into our house, he would call me every week. How do I print this? What is a PDF? I remember how his hand trembled
moving the pointer across the screen.

It irritated me. What’s so hard about it? I thought. Now the memory hurts my throat. Because now I understand. He was trying. The world rushed past him too fast. But he was trying.

Everyday I read things like:

- If you don’t know these AI tips, you’re losing $10,000 a month.

- 8 exercises than cat melt pounds right out of your belly

- Invest in these 2 crypto coins and double your income in a week

They make you feel like if you don’t know these things, you are a lesser being.

Like last weekend, one of my friends told me about a web series that’s going viral everywhere.

When I told him I’ve not heard about it, he looked at me like: “you can’t be real!!”

To tell you the truth, I cannot keep up with the world anymore. It’s changing too fast. I’m a quick learner. I’m hard working. But I can’t. I’m done. It’s just too much. And I’m tired. Tired of losing myself. Tired of chasing fads and trends that make me betray who I am.

Now I have reached a place in my life where I am ready to be left behind.

Maybe you’re tired too… and if you are, here are some little things that may help:

1. it’s okay to live a boring life

Boring doesn’t mean a dull life. Boring means a life that feels calming. To repeat the same cosy routines. To eat the same food. To wear a simple black tee and the old blue Levi’s. To sit with the same two friends you’ve known for twenty years. The world rewards spectacle. Flashy instagram reels. Curated Twitter lives. Always something new. Always someone shining brighter. But behind those lights there is emptiness. The truth is: there are many like you. Many like me. Living quietly. Doing what they like. Finding peace in repetition. A simple boring life may not be shiny and exciting, but it’s peaceful.

2. it’s okay to be old school

In the age of AI I still write with my hands. Using an 8”x 5” notebook and my old loyal Reynolds 045 pen or an HB pencil. There’s something fulfilling about creating something with your own hands. I can write a prompt in ChatGPT and it can spit out a letter like this in 5 seconds. But my conscience doesn’t allow me to do that. I want to do honest work. It may not be perfect and polished, but it carries my soul. I’m not against AI. All I’m saying is, you don’t have to follow the herd. Do it the way that feels right in your heart.

3. it’s okay to be good at just one thing

I guess we learn it too late that it’s okay to be average. I’m not an athlete, but I can walk 5 miles. I’m not an professional chef, but I can cook. I’m not a polyglot, but I can read and write in two languages. The only thing I guess I’m a little good at is putting thoughts in my head onto the paper. It may not be perfect, but I try to write the best I can. And sometimes, that’s enough.

4. it’s ok to have just 3 hobbies

I write to make a living. I walk to be healthy. And I read and watch films to keep my mind sharp. I don’t want anything else. I’m happy. People around you may do all kinds of cool things, but you don’t have to. Instead, do things that are sustainable in the long-term. Things that don’t make you feel like you’re betraying yourself. Things that don’t feel forced.

5. it’s okay to love the ordinary

The 2 a.m peace. The same old restaurant. The smell of pencil shavings. The silence of an empty house. The warmth of tea long after the cup is empty. The little things. The ordinary things. We all know them. We all see them. We all feel them. But we rarely talk about them. And yet they are the very things that make life bearable.

When I watched Perfect Days, I realized again: beauty hides in repetition. In routine. In the same sun falling differently every morning. The toilet cleaner’s life looked “boring” from the outside. But inside it was filled with light.

And perhaps that is the secret. Not to run. Not to catch up. But to stay.

To stay with your pen. Your walk. Your small joys. Your quietness. To be left behind. And maybe in that place, you will find yourself. Again.

6. it’s ok to miss out

Algorithms will feed you more of what you like. That’s how they keep us on a leash. Craving for more. But you can stop it right now. Simply by overcoming your fear of missing out and embracing the joy of missing out. Replace it with things that make you peaceful. Like going out for a walk in nature. Reading a novel. Watching an art film. Staring at the ocean. Listening to the birds singing. The rustle of leaves. The calm of your own breath. Once you start doing these things you’ll feel you weren’t really missing anything. It was just your imagination.

7. and finally, it’s ok to live a life other people don’t understand

I end many of my tweets with, “you won’t get it”. I used this phrase 3 years ago. And it resonated with thousands of introverts. Because they felt it, they got it. Sit on a path bench alone. Feel the warm sun. Look the the flowers. Stare at the clouds. Don’t fit it. Don’t be ashamed to be different. Do things that take you closure to who you are every single day. That’s what gives meaning to our lives. To just be your most honest self.

Final word…

We spend so much of our lives chasing a version of “enough” that was never ours to begin with. Always trying to catch up. To know more. Do more. Become more.
But maybe… the answer was never “more.” Maybe it was less.

Less noise.
Less pressure.
Less chasing.

And more of the things that make you, you.

The world rewards loud voices, fast growth, constant novelty. But introverts, we thrive in silence. In the quiet walks. The familiar tea cups. The slow mornings. The repetition that grounds us.

You don’t need to race to matter.
You don’t need to keep up to be worthy.
You don’t need to be understood by everyone to live a meaningful life.

Maybe the real secret is simply to stay. Stay with your silence. Stay with your quiet hobbies. Stay with your boring, beautiful life.

Because sometimes, in choosing to be “left behind,” you finally return to yourself.

If this letter spoke to you, my book Born to Stand Out was written for moments like this.

It’s for introverts who feel too much. Who think deeply. Who are tired of running in a race that was never meant for them. It’s not another “fix yourself” manual. It’s a gentle invitation to come home to who you already are.

Inside, you’ll find stories, insights, and timeless principles to help you embrace your quiet power, protect your energy, and build a life that feels calm, confident, and true.

Get your copy HERE.

The world doesn’t need another copy. It needs you — slow, real, and unapologetically yourself.

Stay blessed,
Karun

It’s very easy to ignore what happens before and behind-the-scenes when you enter text into a chatbot and hit enter. A response spits up instantly. However, it takes a lot of bits, energy, and people to make that happen. A cartography of generative AI by Estampa shows the groundwork.

Tags: generative, human, system

Caroline Hatchett recalls the early days of her marriage in Miami, Florida, cooking on a budget to help feed her and her law student husband. Hatchett took pride in cooking delicious yet frugal meals, comfort she could not find with a husband deeply devoted to his studies. For The Bitter Southener, Hatchett wonders how she missed out on discovering arroz imperial, a dish created by the Cuban diaspora in Florida, a beloved rice casserole that’s a staple at special occasions and considered the ultimate “carby joy.”

I also wish I had appreciated lunch, a luxurious hour each workday in a little office kitchenette. Meg and I brought back steam-table Indian — eight bucks for a pound of stewed okra, saag paneer, chana masala, and rice, plus a samosa. We ate nasi lemak from a tiny Indonesian restaurant, run by former cruise ship workers. We microwaved leftovers (so many leftovers), gossiped about our bosses, and teased each other gently. I thought that dinner with William had been most sacred, the brightest part of my day. That lie might have saved my marriage, but now I know that I was best loved at lunch.

I just got back from a 24hr trip to Los Angeles to catch my favorite Portland Thorns team, watching them clinch their playoff spot in a match at BMO stadium in downtown Los Angeles.

In May of 2024, I did the same trip to catch a match on Mother's Day, but I accidentally chose bad seats in the sun and it was hot and uncomfortable. Ultimately, it partially inspired my wife and I's book reviewing every NWSL soccer stadium so other fans wouldn't suffer the same fate when flying across the country to catch their favorite team.

This year, I got better seats in the shade and enjoyed the game. But overall? The experience of being in the stadium was worse a year later. After thinking about it on the flight home, I think the reason was the stadium's rush to automation and AI in several places.

Spoiler alert: deploying camera/AI recognition for everything isn't great

Every concession stand, including the ones that didn't even serve hot food, used the apparatus in the photo above to control all checkouts. I assume these are expensive units, because most places that used to have several checkout lanes only had one of them, requiring everyone to checkout through a single location.

Here's how they worked in the stadium yesterday: You place all your items on the white shelf with some space between them. Although they were clearly designed to be a self-checkout experience, the stadium had a staff member rearrange your items, then for about 30 seconds the kiosk would be thinking. After, it would pop up all items on the menu, and the staff member would have to tap to confirm what each item was. Then another 30 seconds to calculate and move the purchase to a point of sale/tap on the side, then you'd pay.

Overall, this added at least one, if not two full minutes to every transaction that didn't normally have those delays. Lines were unbearably long, and it was a hot day in LA yesterday, at 87ºF/30ºC. I bought food and drinks several times over the the course of the day and had to endure the process multiple times.

When you add object recognition, you're incentivized to reduce choices

Here's an unintended consequence of moving all your concession stand checkouts to computer vision: it's easier if you have less things on offer.

Case in point: Let's talk about my favorite concession stand at BMO last year, a place that served rotisserie chicken with waffle fries and chicken sandwiches. Here's our meal from 2024, it was well-seasoned, came with great sauces, and was one of the best meals I had at a stadium in my entire nationwide tour, which is why I remembered it.

I returned to the same concession stand yesterday and here's their new menu:

When your checkout stand relies on computer vision, it's probably confusing to have half a dozen different menu items that fans can enjoy. But if you could condense it to just chicken tenders, fries, a hot dog, and boxes of candy, your computer vision-based checkout system will probably work faster since it has to do less work with the obvious shapes of each of those items.

Looking through my photos from my 2024 visit, I saw a variety of food options including smashburgers and a Korean BBQ rice bowl I also tried, pictured above.

If foods are difficult for computer vision to decipher, why not get rid of most options? Walking around the stadium yesterday, the menus were basically all hot dogs, pizza, nachos, and chicken tenders.

Even quick service options sucked

As I said, it was a hot day, I was constantly parched, and I ended up drinking four bottles of water over the course of three hours. Each time, I had to go through the automated checkout gauntlet, and each time it required a long wait in a line, while I missed bits of the match.

Late in the game, I wanted to get water quickly and they had these "vending kiosks" that were fully automated. You'd tap your phone on the locked door, it would unlock, you'd grab items, then close the door. Next, you had to stand there for about 2 minutes while it said "calculating checkout" before showing you a receipt on the screen.

What was supposed to be fast was very slow. The person in front of me bought two items and saw she got charged for three. Since there were no paper receipts, she took a photo of the machine before going to the guest services to complain. I missed ten minutes of the game getting water.

This was a quick service "market" style place and last year, you'd just grab stuff off a shelf, and checkout quickly from staff at multiple registers. This year, it had a long line snaking all over because of the slow AI/camera checkout kiosks.

It was a busy game, being the last home match for the fans and I would guess there were around 17,000-18,000 people in attendance. When it's nearly 90ºF/30ºC, heat exhaustion becomes a problem for crowds. When it takes people ten minutes to buy a bottle of water (I didn't see automated water fillers at the restrooms), the embrace of slow AI/Camera-based checkout systems starts to become a health and safety issue for the crowd.

But Mrs. Lincoln—besides the obvious—how was the play?

A year later visiting the same stadium, I got worse food, slower service, and a worse overall experience. On the bright side, the billionaire stadium owners probably got to reduce their staff in the process while maybe increasing profits.

The company behind the kiosks claims they are 400% faster than human checkers and result in a 25% increase in profits. After experiencing it in person yesterday, I think those numbers are bullshit. Human checkers are clearly faster and smoother, and I bet they sold more food and drinks when people could get them quickly.

And the portions? They were so small!