+he Ghos+ in the A.I.

2024.07.15

"Where you been, Wynn?"

"Working." Is the right answer.

I turned in and turned out the lights on the day-to-day affairs.

The way a monk goes to the woods, I stepped away to work on the words.

There are plenty to share with you.

And plenty more dreams to get down.

I look forward to it.

It's me, Ghost.

Now spelled: +he Ghos+, to get AI criminals to stop badgering me.

They're code blocks.

They keep AI away from the content.

I choose Courier New for font as a rule.

Sure, it's not the most aesthetic but that's the point.

Like most writers, I've spent hours of my life 'choosing the right font.'

I made a pact with myself to always default to Courier New to save myself the trouble.

There are plenty of web designers out there with ideas of what fits their specific pages best.

Let them spend the hours grueling over font choices.

My work is content.
To be content with the content.

The last two days, the words are all business, all practical matters.

And it's about time.

I'm far from shy.
Sensitive, sure.

But sensitive doesn't mean delicate.

Just the opposite.
As it should.

Selective as to my experiences, they all ought to be what I refer to as quality or they are simply not worth the time.

That's the ideal for all of us.

To fill our days with what we value the most.

A few good relationships with people and a safe quiet place to work.

That's what I require.

That's where my peace of mind, peace of life, resides.

It ought to be easier than it's been to find my whole life.
Illness was in the way.

When I went into remission, finally I could work and not work around the illness.

I'd plug away my whole life, At least one sentence a day,was the mantra.

Whether that was a word or five or ten thousand.
Whatever I could get out based on the state of my health.

Then the state of my health was no longer an issue.
Other than the healing that comes from a decade of fighting for your physical life, I was in good shape.

So, I sat.
So, I worked.

If you're from the city, chances are you saw me out working.

Years being confined most of the time to a chair, the only way to get to the kitchen to eat, for a glass of water, or to the bathroom, was a Percocet, or a pill of Morphine if that alone didn't work.

Between the steroids, anti-cancer meds, auto-immune inhibitors, pain medications, and anti-seizure medications, I was exhausted.

A body Hell-bent on destroying itself while I sat lost in daydreams waiting for enough of the drug haze and/or pain to wear off enough so I could write down a sentence or two.

It's been my only love, writing I mean.

Since my early teens the dream has always been the same.

Share some words with the world and have an old-fashioned good, simple life.

Such a simple life should not be a full vertical mountain climb.

But what I have to write about changes, at least touches, a lot of people.

Life doesn't like change, unless you can show Her the change you bring means growth.

Nature despises change, but she loves growth.

I'd like to believe all the illness was Her resistance to me.

Maybe that's hubris, but the last few years echo the sense of the sentiment.

There's been a lot of another kind of sickness in my way the past few years.

Old societal wounds and the deplorable states, and stories, people have to believe in order to perpetuate them.

I survived; it wasn't too hard after a lifetime of invisible soldiers at war with me to dodge some big bigotry machines.

The only certain way to beat the Devil is to ignore him.

If he doesn't matter, he doesn't matter.

I kept working.

We'll keep the 'Ghost' part.

It pertains to my intent to write on the spirit, to make sure we keep it at the forefront of the evolutionary size changes along the way with AI.

We mustn't forget we're spirit stuff first or we'll make ourselves obsolete in our self-imposed scientific ignorance.

It's not that we can't measure the spirit, it's only we're afraid of the tools it requires to do so.

It means language as a means of measure.
It means Art as a Scientific tool.

It's a great time to be alive, let's remember that's one thing machines can never have, a life.

Life itself.

We are not gods; we are men and women playing with action figures we can program to do the hard labor so we can focus on what's really important: caring for one another, creating beautiful things to celebrate life, and the enjoyment of our days.

My dream of what AI can bring us is a world where everyone wants to get up in the morning.

All the grunt work is gone.

Poverty, starvation, greed... hate, they die off because there's just no more use for them.

Not pie in the sky stuff anymore, plausable, realistic goals.

Finally, avarice won't pay.

Hate won't get you a step up on a social ladder.

Bigotry won't fill your pockets; blind ambition won't make you a billionaire.

It's time to dream big dreams, because big dreams can finally become reality.

It happens quick if we want it to.

So, let's want it to.

We must put the spirit of our dreams of a better world in the AI of things.

We must keep +he Ghos+ in The Machines.