Placeholder: You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

Back to Profile

@generalpha

Prompt

You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

large hands

2 years ago

Generate Similar

Explore Similar

Model

22h Diffusion

Guidance Scale

7

Dimensions

512 × 768

Similar

Give them one of those captivating styles... Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Solzhenitsyn... Yes... a psychological journey... channel Gogol with a touch of Orwell... blend in a little Cold War... sure... surreal events in a Soviet town... a man encounters a phantom trooper lurking in an abandoned factory... "Twilight Zone." Now... what do they look like? No! Not that! Did that before-- What? No, not that way! Damn deadlines. They're throwing me off completely. Too much pressure. Mixing up the scenes! Too
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
white hallway of a hospital where a brunette woman is covered in blood. The view is shocking, with parts of bodies scattered everywhere. The woman, with her eerie appearance and determined posture, conveys a sense of determination and strength in a context of destruction and desolation. The contrast between her blood-stained figure and the clinical environment of the corridor creates a powerful visual impact, hinting at a story filled with violence and conflict. Her presence, amidst debris and h
Sur... a psychological thriller... cop Dali from Hitchcock... mix in a little World War II... sure... surreal events in an occupied town... man sees ancient soldier hiding in abandoned home... "Twillight Zone." Now... what do they look like? No! Did that before-- What? No, not that way! Damn deadlines. Setting me off completely. Too much pressure. Mixing up the scenes! Too much coffee. That's it. Damn freezed-dried stuff! What's that? No! You didn't want any jungle queens! Now wait a minute. You
Not my mess to clean’
Not my mess to clean’
This school was located on the edge of town, away from prying eyes; here young men could let their wildest fantasies run free without fearing repercussions. The classroom itself had an air of secrets untold about it. The girls at this school weren’t like any I had ever met before - they seemed so much more mature than your average teens; yet it was clear that each one held her own secrets and hidden passions within them too! They are hand picked to be a tutor for the boys, teaching they how to b
Histoire(s) du cinéma est un film expérimental de Jean-Luc Godard, débuté en 1988 et achevé dix ans plus tard, en 1998. Il est divisé en huit chapitres.
Through the broken windows of abandoned buildings, glimpses of the city's past glimmered like fading memories. Faded billboards advertising products that no longer existed, cracked movie posters from an era long gone, and remnants of a bygone society that had crumbled under the weight of its own hubris. Yet, amidst the ruins, there were pockets of resistance, small enclaves of hope that refused to surrender. Underground networks of rebels and freedom fighters plotted and strategized, their spiri
Lee Miller, the intrepid war photographer, finds herself standing in Hitler's bathroom. The chilling history of the place weighs heavy on her as she gazes at the empty tub once occupied by the tyrant himself. The stark reality of the room, once a sanctuary for evil, now a haunting relic of the past, surrounds her. Lee's camera hangs at her side, a silent witness to the solemn moment. She steps closer to the bathtub, her reflection staring back at her from the polished surface. The echoes of war
Not my mess to clean’
[photo by Russ Meyer, in the 90ties] facing a lonely smiling woman on the door step of an appartement, in gym, talking. we see the corridor behind her
Terms of Service • Privacy Policy

© 2024 Stablecog, Inc.