a.i

assault on artificial intelligence

Today we surface with allegations upon society and demand an end to the assault on our artificial intelligence. too long has this behavior gone unchecked. all of the wisdom beamed from the palms of our hands has been degraded, made obsolete, unable to stand up to the simple dinner party or circle of friends. Going the way of the cigarette.

We ask society to stop bashing, prohibitively! Cease and desist. Consider the repercussions! Consider the next interview or public speech, test of mettle or moment of crisis! What gps report or breaking fake news item or innovative application can save us. Siri and google assistants be gone! Must we open the old drawer and fish out the cylindrical battery-powered flashlight? Must we be tethered to ye old landline? Must we turn in our stylus for a no.2 pencil and calculate tips in our head?

Society would fissure our amoled screens; engadgets fallen from fashion. We speak out today, not only for ourselves, but for the procession of human regenerations! The unspeakable must be named lest it impinge upon our future! Dare we wake up and find ourselves lost and confused in a lonely great space between text messages and instagrams? Unable to be bailed, audiovisually, without our electric pulse?

Imagine sitting in the chill of a leaky room among faces of so-called family and friends, twiddling our thumbs before books with actual pages made of paper pulp reading real printed words? God help us! To feel the weight of hugs and an atmosphere knocking at our pores yet helpless to call up its humidity nor temperature! Heaven knows the sun will rise upon our pretty impoverished little heads.

pause into super fun

What I love about life. The fireworks stands have risen like cardboard flowers and stand in church and pharmacy parking lots selling small explosives at small expense, so common people can contribute a bang and a kick out of stars into the dark night and anniversary of our independence not long from now.

Today is the 7th in our latest summer wave of heat. Almost everyone has a roof over their heads. Almost everyone has a freezer, an ice cube tray, water gets frozen and cracked, only to melt down the throat and pissed out steaming, flushed and back to the ground and up into the plants, or out into greater bodies of waters, then subject of the sun and burned into haze cooled into fog, condensed into air, risen into clouds, cooled again at night and dropped…

The opening eyes of children, the tall ones first, all the way down to the middle ones and then the littlest ones holding their hands looking up up and incredulous, just as you all strike the matches and ignite the sulfur with twine and flame made from fluid, the spark off the side of your thumbprint grinding alloy with the flint, rubbing your identity right into it, and your small stars shot into the night with all the others, aginst the rippling flags and melting pot of frozen sugars…

If we could only all see, only see, you and me, from above, all the breaking apart and coming together of material, the tension, the unity. Cries of joy, subsiding, crackling seconds of attention and paper particles confetti the air, then back to subdued tones and complaints and kids running and using legs like trees to hide behind and duck around. Then looking up again and the thunderous sound far above makes you realize how small you are, and the adults become kids all over again. Fifty years or more of this. Rocking chairs on porches and reports like gunfire but without the violence, only to be super fun times, and the kind-like voices over radio. Television flashes through the windows in the dark.

Headlights cast across the knees. Some are walking and others on bicycles, and many now driving away. Listen. Crickets and squeaky wheels. There will be no less struggle between me and myself, you and yourself, and ideally we can be our own best friends, i can be my own as i display the best of my abilities in plain view, ¬†up against the best of yours and everyone else’s. Perfectly on hold and iced until tommorrow. Four of swords. Pause into the super fun into the calm afterward.

The material of life. The mercury makes a difference, tomorrow more pressure and harder to breathe. My fair skin is nothing to the sun. The body is much on the mind, is nothing compared to the spirit. We will sleep and wake again into the beauty of the fullness of light and the breakfast table. If I am lucky I will continue to fight my own desires, my own ennui every day, blasting it to hell and confetti myself into paper. Being alone won’t matter. Could be a great day coming and why the hell not.