Check out this devastating little experiment Google helped me build. I am spending a lot of time – too much really – trying to figure out how LLMs can be used to accelerate my creative process. I deal in AI slop all day. It seems very apparent to me that there really is very little existential threat to human creativity in whatever these things are that we have built. There are more than enough…

(a one shot poem about how you can find good things to look back on or forward to even if you can't see them. [Keeping hope when there is uncertainty or pain])

Just in case you ever forget, how beautiful life can be.

There is something on the other side of the brick wall.

There is something after the smoke clears

There is observable health of the plants and the sky.

Even If you are working in a coal mine

Or are walking a forest in the deepest night

Your labor is not for nothing

The seeds you plant will sprout

Do not forget what you know you have seen in the world when it comes to the beautiful things. Just because you may be (or faceing) am ugly one.

Do not forget what is possible in your destination from your current location.

The boat traveling across the ocean does not see exactly where it's going long before it comes near its shore of destination.

---

“sin plan, sin fin”

That took away the sweetness of your breath,

when the choice to kiss them or smoke me,

was pulled out of its box for the umpteenth time.

It was a battle I was bound to lose.

So, I grew jealous of the way you had all the time

For the guilty pleasure that sliced away at ours

In ways I never would.

In the same ashen breath that you two shared,

you, or maybe it, would speak of your interim.

No more than a fleeting kiss you promised would end,

if I so much as wished it, like I had so dearly in the past.

I was your favorite of all who you smoked.

The taste of blindsided love, and maybe cherry,

Coated your tongue with words

That kept me addicted.

But the temporary joy was me all along.

My pack ran dry.

no flame to be lit,

or high to be had.

But what’s a favorite pack of cigarettes

To a man who’s hooked on any

That will let him smoke them

For even an instant.

But now, the spirit left in ruin

Breathes in the smoke of the cigarette

he stole from your new,

favorite pack--

And convinces himself that he loves

the taste of ash and filth

he smothers with memories

ONE TAKE INKIGAYO (Toujours aussi réussi avec ce photographe qui connait par cœur la gestuelle de la chorégraphie et qui danse avec le groupe, et si vous ajoutez une 4K qui sublime le tout, c’est un perfect!) See you.