contrary to popular opinion, i may never embrace AI with a warm hug, like a long lost cousin. in fact, i am writing my second manuscript, and it is full of social commentary and predictions about what our society might look like ahead. i mean, why must we pretend we are Gods, with this strange urge to create perfect things in our own image. whenever i see AI people talking in videos, i frown, the look on my face as heavy as the feeling of dread. wasn’t solving world hunger and climate change a large enough task to rally around? wasn’t access to the internet enough? i do appreciate this pimped-out steroid-filled thing called chatgpt a lot. i wont lie. but what do we really need? have we lost the plot line? what.do.we.really.need? i can only hope we start to recalibrate in 2026. . .
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TOGETHER
Sometimes when Fall turns to Winter,
My skin turns so red, as if
The heat is leaving my skin
And wants the wind
To take it away.
I say, life is a beautiful thing,
But I must report that the days
Are feeling longer than usual.
It is not unusual for me to make
So many undulating decrees.
But, I guess that is the reality
Of life. That in spite of it all
If we cannot run, we must walk,
And if we cannot walk
We must crawl. Yes!
I promise I will stand by you
Through it all.
I promise I will give you my hand,
And we can fall and
Make a ruse of it all
Together.
