I am so goddamn bored of artists, writers, musicians, and wistful wannabes lamenting artificial intelligence. Even when I’m with people I generally enjoy, whose minds I genuinely value, and drinking beers, which I always enjoy, and I hear, “You know, this whole A.I. thing is getting pretty scary,” I vanish.
Part of my indifference is that I am bored by their conversational laziness, and part of it is that my mind ponders the only A.I. worth a damn. I recall one of the most human, culturally significant Virginians of all time, Allen Iverson. I close my eyes and watch him brawl in a bowling alley, then cross up Michael Jordan and step over Ty Lue. I remember the shoes, the sleeve, and the undoubtedly imperfect celestial scale of humanity packed into his modest body. I hear the practice rant. I see him bounce and float and command his realm with power and grace.
While watching highlights in my head, somebody always prods and says, “Well, what about you, Daisy? Aren’t you scared, as a writer? Everything you do can be replicated by an algorithm. Soon, you and everyone like you could be nothing.” Then I grin, and my heart makes words my mouth cannot say.
I have been scared my whole life. Scared of talking. Scared of upsetting. Scared of being ignored. Scared of ignoring. Scared of nothing, being nothing, and nothingness. Scared of men, women, and everybody outside and in between. I’m afraid of feelings, numbness, my mind, my body, cops, court, sex, condoms, children, genes, medicine, overdosing, dogs, bears, cancer, AIDS, leprosy, illiteracy, my mind, the shotgun in the closet in my Nashville bedroom, failure, pizza ovens, the pill bottle in the mirror cabinet of my Charleston studio, success, FaceTime, my therapist, my mind, my exes, hospital beds, capitalism, seizures, wires, neurologists, general practitioners, zoom meetings, love, dentists, plagues, oligarchs, government, anarchy, Asheville, wooden boxes, cardboard boxes, planes, car rides, board games, being in the same place for too long, drowning, Arty leaving, mornings, school shooters, school, Aristotle’s Cave, the Sun, death, life, work, taxes, knowing too much, memory loss, being remembered, and being forgotten.
Much of what I have ever felt is fear. Of course, I fear the computers. I fear them like I fear everything. But what I fear most is that my friends and I are becoming tiresome. We are forgetting our hearts. I’m scared that we’re talking about practice, not the game, not the game that I would die for. We’re talking about practice, practice, man, practice. We’re talking about practice.
Hello, world.
As long as computers ain't got neck tattoos, I ain't trippin'!
such a nice thing to read on a friday.
thanks man