I’m just about to turn my head towards AI. And peer at it, over there, from over here. Looking it up and down, trustlessly, like I might a stranger that rang my doorbell at 9pm on a dark wintery night. “Nyeah? Can I help?”
I know little about it. I can spell AI. But that’s all right now.
AI seems to make faster what I like doing slowly. Which is a bad thing (for me). I think. When I write, I think, reflect and learn. So I’ll keep on writing regardless.
Right now, I don’t know what metaphor to use when I compare my writing to an AI version of my writing. The metaphor I have backed up and ready to go is that there’s a difference between home baked bread (my writing) and the foamy shite that the supermarkets sell as bread (AI writing).
But I sense that’s too simplistic. So I’ll take a closer look, probably with David Hieatt in London. And see what’s what.