ok computer

and the ** (ai) beauty problem 💻

Two songs this week have made me think about picking up an acoustic guitar and going primitive mode. One old. One new. “Little Wing” by Neil Young and “If We Keep Hangin Out” by Hotline TNT. I get obsessive with the replay button in search of solace. Really though, If you ever catch me at a campfire with the ‘ol Martin Backpacker, please call the authorities.

I also just finished the *Growth of the Soil by Knut Hamsun - the Nobel Prize for Literature winner for the year of our lord 1920 — about a man named Isak, who in full rejection of modern day civilization, walks out into the Norwegian woods, finds a plot of land and starts from scratch. Right up my alley. You know me. Mr. Rustic.

*major slow burn alert for the real heads.

I love space. Room to breathe. Sounds of nature. Solace. Missed notes. All of that. Both of these songs, and Growth of the Soil are beautifully stark. Stripped down to their core. Heart on sleeve. Real back to nature type shit.

Acoustic songs are great in that they are steadfast in their rejection of excess. Alone in their own little worlds, willingly shunning a studio tan, to bring you the listener, back to earth. Letting emotion take the wheel. Warts and all. Beautiful.

something deeply uncool about this type of guy

With AI breathing down our necks, an acoustic guitar and voice harmonizing emotional memories of lost love is a welcome breath of fresh air — a respite from the bleeps and bloops and clicktiy-clack of the matrix.

Small minded luddite? Couldn’t be me. But over the past few months I have been trying to understand my almost visceral distaste of the term “AI”. And with a bit of help from the paper of record, I was able to crack the code.

Before I walk the plank, I would like to clear the air. I am for progress. Generally. It’s more the tone of this AI discourse has taken on - always be wary of change the world proclamations.

Virtual reality has been around for what, fifty years, and still, not one soul gives a shit. If you catch me wearing a VR headset of any kind, much like the acoustic guitar at the campfire, sound the alarm. AI and VR. Birds of a different feather. Could be. Only time will tell.

I am a strong proponent of beauty. Beautiful things matter. Art. Music. Luxury goods. Staring into the ocean at magic hour. Smelling a flower. Two children holding hands.

Beauty is subjective. Not binary. I am pretty sure beauty is what I live for. The moments when I am bowled over by the randomness of nature, the kindness of a stranger, a glimmer of hope, that fleeting moment of clarity (nirvana?), having a deep and meaningful conversation with a new friend.

AI doesn’t care about beauty. Sure. It can replicate something beautiful. But, come on. That is not cool. In fact, it’s the opposite of cool. I would fight you over it. Like an actual fist fight. I have been in a few in my life. I never thought I would be in another. I’m like a steppin’ razor don’t you watch my size i’m dangerous.

Now i’m just the old man unable to navigate my new smartphone, or turn on any TV that isn’t my own. Maybe existence is just about finding your life raft out in the middle of the big blue ocean as the culture current rips around you. If so, fine. You can find me holding on for dear life, gazing out at a beautiful sunset.