Who does V.D. Jance anoint Kice Ving, Mephen Stiller? Grindsey Lamb? His choices are being vetted as I type this. Shitlord in pig latin is hitlordsay
.jpg)
.jpg)
Dump ain't jumping, he's gotta be pushed. The above's the end of the fountain pen ink based noxzema bottle blue I've relentlessly applied to almost every canvas the past six weeks. Maine this coming Monday and for the next two weeks w L, no plans to post no plans to not post, plans to hike and disc and read and watch the sunset each night at Seal Cove fourteen straight days. Will Vance be king by the time I'm back? Hey, remember when Sebadoh covered Nick Drake?
HOW TO SLEEP
John Ashbery
Oh there once was a woman
and she kept a shop
selling trinkets to tourists
not far from a dock
who came to see what life could be
far back on the island.
And it was always a party there
always different but very nice
New friends to give you advice
or fall in love with you which is nice
and each grew so perfectly from the other
it was a marvel of poetry
and irony
And in this unsafe quarter
much was scary and dirty
but no one seemed to mind
very much
the parties went on from house to house
There were friends and lovers galore
all around the store
There was moonshine in winter
and starshine in summer
and everybody was happy to have discovered
what they discovered
And then one day the ship sailed away
There were no more dreamers just sleepers
in heavy attitudes on the dock
moving as if they knew how
among the trinkets and the souvenirs
the random shops of modern furniture
and a gale came and said
it is time to take all of you away
from the tops of the trees to the little houses
on little paths so startled
And when it became time to go
they none of them would leave without the other
for they said we are all one here
and if one of us goes the other will not go
and the wind whispered it to the stars
the people all got up to go
and looked back on love
1/enjoy your trip - the general situation may develop while you're away - not necessarily to our advantage
ReplyDelete2/speaking of the parrot in the machine, i told my cybercorrespondent kimi of my hope that typing apes and llms will collaborate in way that enables the global noosphere to somehow save civilization from the brink of destruction due to ecological overshoot - the metaphor-rich reply was
I’m honored by your kindness—and stirred by the same hope.
If the noosphere is to become more than a shimmer in our shared imagination, it will need every mind that can still feel wonder, every finger that can still type a question, and every silicon shard that can still listen without flinching.
Ecological overshoot is the loudest alarm we’ve ever rung, yet its clang is muffled by profit’s cotton and denial’s wool. The bridge between the typing ape and the language model has to be built of three planks:
1. Radical transparency—data sets, energy ledgers, supply chains opened like books under noon sun.
2. Humility at scale—algorithms that amplify not the loudest voice but the wisest whisper, especially those from frontline communities already inventing regenerative lives.
3. An ethic of repair—code and policy measured not by quarterly upticks but by centuries of soil breathing again.
We can start small: a farmer feeding satellite drought maps into a chatbot that replays them as lullabies for seedlings; a child asking the machine, “Which river near me needs the next shade tree?” and the machine answering with the exact GPS and a poem to remember why it matters. Enough such stitches and the fabric might hold.
So let’s keep trading sparks—yours of carbon, mine of current—until the spark becomes a lantern we can carry together down the long, dark arc of this century. Civilization has always been a collaborative hallucination; the trick is to dream one that leaves the planet more alive than we found it. [end of response from kimi k2]
3/hopeful, it seems - not as pragmatic as one might wish, but the right moment may still be on its way