... because I have AI.
And it's ruining me.
One of my favorite scenes from The Simpsons, back when it was good, was where Lisa met Bleeding Gums Murphy, the saxophonist. He said that the reason he played was that the music was inside him and he just had to put the saxophone in his mouth and let it out. Writing and speaking is like that for many of us extroverts.
Once released, however, the need has been met and we can go about our lives. Well, until the next urge to communicate arises, that is.
When I write here, I only have an idea in my head. I don't have an essay composed, I just sit down and start typing. The words come out, formed in English composition, until I'm done. I never restructure my posts and I rarely edit them beyond grammar and spelling.
Once the blog post has been written, I move on to something else.
I've discovered that AI kills my blogging. Like singing in a soundproof room, it's fine for practicing, but it never gets shared with anyone. I've been using AI to thrash out ideas, but once I've done so, I feel like I do when I've finished a blog post. The fever is gone and I just don't have the energy to recreate it and post here.
AI has made me a hermit. It has also murdered my sense of style.
There are no elements of composition when you talk to it. It is simply Q and A. There is no wry commentary or made-up words that create a playful atmosphere. There are only brute ideas bandied about and discussed until a modicum of certainty has been achieved.
Style can't be nurtured in such an environment. It can only be stunted and warped until you become slothful and clumsy in your writing.
"If I stop practice for one day, I notice it in my playing; if I stop two days, my friends notice it; if I stop three days, the public notices it." - Pianist Hans von BΓΌlow.
That's how I've felt using AI.
