All The Words

The Road to Mindless Starts Here

I’m so disappointed in the world for giving up our minds to ai, and for letting it write all the captions, articles, blogs, descriptions. There are so many great writers out there who have always enjoyed word-smithing phrases that thrill and explain and get to the heart of whatever it is we need to know.

It’s as if the one big robot-writer now explains everything to everyone now. It’s all one style. Whether it’s a stupid meme on instagram or a lengthy report on what’s happening in the world, ai writes it and every fucking word of it is the same. All of our information is delivered now by the same asshole robot, there’s no difference between the cheapest doom-scroll meme and an informative news event on YouTube. It’s all just ai slop, no matter how fooled you are by it. There’s no style, no surprise, no reality to it. It’s just

That’s not journalism—that’s the sound of depleted systems wrapped up in strategy, authenticity and quiet wisdom. That’s the soft leaning in that comes from turning the tables on intelligence and ending up with golden fearlessness, rather than some conditioned version of internalized shadow work and a few less glasses of water to drink. If we want to establish bold and radical boundaries, then we must visualize those unapologetic desires and embrace defiance. This is grounded rebellion, an awakening that represents the primal outward expression and unfiltered liberation.

Yes, I wrote that. And if you thought it was ai and were impressed by its inanity, then good for you. You are helping us lose our last bit of humanity. If you love, adore and support ai in the arts, then you are the eaters of heart and soul. You are killing our spirit. And you’ll win, because sooner or later, no one will want to read non ai work. No one will want to hear songs written and performed by actual humans. We’ll all just get on line and slurp up our slop, like a bunch of brainless vacuum cleaners. And texting has just become a nightmare now. Autocorrect was always a ducking joke, but ai has absolutely ruined the experience of sending a quick note to someone.

And I fear future writers will learn how to write from ai examples. Forget the mind, just write like the robot does. It’s as if we’re just so blown away by this trite shit, so much so that we think it’s OK to forget how to express ourselves uniquely, how to be subtle, how to think on our own, how to know that it’s not only OK to get it wrong, but that getting it wrong means we’re human and that, ironically, is the charming part about writing.

I guess my biggest fear is...will anyone want to hear the imperfect voice after a while? Will anyone want to read sentences that don’t line up with ai’s idiotic pace and plagiarism? There’s just so many ways you can barf up the same ‘vast’ set of words before we’re just reading recycled recycling. Ad infinitum.

I watched the award winning short film ‘The Singers’ last night. There was so much rawness, so many imperfect moments, so much singing that bordered on too sharp or too flat that I couldn’t help but shed a tear over the realness of it. We do go sharp sometimes. We don’t always hit those notes, but we sure do try and that’s what makes it beautiful.

Fret noise in an analog recording. Breath. Words that aren’t ordinarily put together, yet when they do make it into a sentence, they help us to transcend because of their irregular beauty. Paint that doesn’t always get it right color-wise, portrayed faces that come from a hand that messed up just a little and brought us something so tender and vulnerable that our hearts break just looking at it, because of that tiny error. Bad judgment in art, mistakes, effort, attempts at perfection that show us all the more how perfection is not only dull, but impossible and thoroughly undesirable.

Who wants anything that slick, that poreless, that unearthly that its unearthliness could only come from something on earth, as in a human who said ‘yes’ to the idea that being imperfect and flawed is inferior and worthless and a line of code is our only salvation. Upgrade me! Make me a clone! Is this new illusion our next religion? Do we want it forever?

Is this transhumanism? Do we just give up and let ai show us that it’s so much easier to be biological as long as we don’t have to think? And what of post-humanism? Is that where we just host an eternal run-on sentence, scripted by blithering ai source code?

And what next? Build data centers on all the planets and moons we can get our billions on and just run the solar system on endless iterations of the word ‘strategy?’ Because ‘strategy’ has to be the one word that gets into every meme, every article, every blog, every news report, every YouTube video. It’s like the word ‘the’ to ai. That’s not just (fill in with word #9405822c)—it’s (fill in with two words between the range of 63144 and 9B642.oooX‹··€›)

Strategy, reset, pivot, wrapped...oh god, I feel like I’m in a garbage disposal and I’m continuously being churned. We’re all gray sludge now. We’re just sludge that once knew itself to be amazing, unique, loving, caring, vulnerable, daring, awful, wonderful, mean, kind, filled with ego, ruined by ego, pushy, aggressive, brilliant, genius, talented, thoughtful, ambitious, wrong, right, sexual, poetic, insightful, spiritual, free, imperfect...anything BUT perfect, and now, we are on the conveyor belt to becoming truly perfect as we are ground into fine gray even particles that make up the sludge that ai will churn and churn until we simply become the slurm that powers the data centers that create the redundant, endless perfection, somewhere, out there in interstellar space. And we just don’t care.

That’s not just brain rot—it’s strategy.