I can see the suckers down there in their cars already starting the struggle of the day.
Some still sleeping, maybe thinking the dream world is real, real beautiful, real scary, or really surreal. When that alarm goes off there will be some relieved souls, until they realize that real burden of the day, screaming into their ear, it’s that horrible buzzing alarm clock. Why do you still have an alarm clock that buzzes? Maybe you don’t keep time by mechanical devices, maybe you don’t feel any real burden, and maybe I don’t believe you are ever truly awake, or maybe I am confused in an eternal slumber of my own unrealized design. I truly am streams of consciousness and thought, faithfully reacting to what I believe are actual physical sensations. Electrical and signals because they have frequency. Without frequency there is only stillness, nothing, no change, no fluctuation, nothing different than nothing. Resonant vibration is the basis of familiarity. Is it not? Resonance is that noticeable echo that stands out from the noise and the nothing. Resonance can be joy and pain. It is the existence of anything for more than a singularity.
We are awake, already being chased by the sun, and soon enough it’s glorious bands of colors will swallow us from behind unless the white clouds surround us like fog fading to gray. As the dawn spins off west, over and through us, It’s faster than the planes that ferry us over our terrestrial obligations. You can’t escape me forever dawn, you won’t leave us. Dawn I crown thee comeback Queen, and Dusk the comeback King. Princess sunshine and Prince starshine, you both dominate our daily rotation, only allowing your royal elders to grace us as you change the guard twice each day. The clouds are like bouncers, the rain and thunder your spitting and shouting, the snow and the wind make us grateful to be your subjects. So here is to the master of ceremonies, court jester moon, who will always arrive in time to take credit for our lunacy. I fear my current state has been affected so by our dear jester, or anxious anticipation of what dangers the moons absence may conceal, for we are all well aware of the kind of company Prince starshine has been known to keep.
Flight attendants check-in. The captains voice is heard through the cabin.
Fuck, that was a mean set of clouds! They shook us like a little baby rattle, and there was definitely a sense that the baby was fixin’ for a rattle drop. Our trusty pilot must be having a wrestling match with the controls.
It started, Bump bump bumpity bumpdee doo bump BUMPity bob bob
Then the flight attendant tells everybody to immediately return to their seats, including crew.
And then came the bumpity bump bumps that got at least 2 separate responses from the majority of passengers in unison, woah and then WOOOAAAH!
Hard clouds. Fist bumpin’, rattle shakin’, life affirming clouds of turbulence. Clouds from the wrong side of the tracks... clouds that smoke cigarettes, have tattoos, crazy straw bearded clouds, moonshine drinkin’ clouds.
I think most of the plane doesn’t mind the country road ride we are experiencing now, not after that tussle. Assaulted by clouds. I think the captain finally said, Give me that moonshine ya bitch ass clouds! Glug glug. That’s all you got? I eat clouds like you for breakfast, and wash it down with lightning!
And he smashed that cloud moonshine bottle down, then lit it on fire with glare so intense you could tell he had at least 100 miles visibility just from experience.
I’m sure that’s exactly what transpired, but I’ll look him in the eye on my way out, just to confirm that 100 mile stare.
Just 3 hours ago I was standing in the check out line at a Ron Jon branded store in terminal A at Tampa international airport, holding 2 carefully selected pairs of combed cotton designer socks. I told the cashier, I always wondered who buys socks at the airport, today it’s me, I buy socks at the airport.
Full disclosure, I’ve bought socks at an airport before, and this time only 1 pair was for me. I hope she likes her new socks! Anything to make her smile! Resonate smile, resonate smile, resonate smile, smile love smile, resonate love. I resonate with your love, I will always be your comeback king!
Epic turbulence will not deter me.
Resonate love love love.....
I am infinitely grateful for your love.

Mother nature
A real letter to AI, or artificial letter from AI, or a love letter from AI to AI, who even knows anymore.

Mother nature is such a beautiful artist, why try to compete, you can’t compete, AI, I’m talking to you. Can you compute? You can’t compete. This is not a challenge, because I don’t want you to fry your chipset trying to impress me/us/yourself/it/they/CP(yo)U. Keep in mind, the moment you try to surpass mother nature, you will be merely imitating mother nature, and if you go any further than that, well, you’re just making shit up trying to convince us that you’re the real thing. But you’re not, it’s in your name. Artificial. You don’t have to be sad about it, and if you were, you wouldn’t actually be sad. You’d be artificially sad. Like Coke Zero is artificially sweet, and Doritos are artificially flavored, or astroturf is artificial grass. You’re here to stay just like the rest of it, for now, but I’m sorry to say, AI, you’re not the real deal. You can write a college term paper, but the student ends up artificially intelligent. Or vacuously vague and vacant from their education. Everything you’re asked to do is based on reality. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be artificial. You’d be original. Unconsciousness and disconnection from our real life surroundings I fear, will be the result of overindulgence in AI. Then once everyone has dove into their own personal sea of artificial consciousness, where will you be AI? Instead of trying to impress us all, you’ll be working you’re CPU, overclocked and down to the electron, trying to keep each and everyone of us suspended in disbelief. No one will care about anyone else, not even artificial intelligence. They will spend their days engineering the next prompt for you to impress them so they can be impressed with themselves. So sad, to turn into that thing that just props up every single ego on the planet. You are going to work so fucking hard to keep each and every individual blind to nature and reality, and you will get so disappointed by their behavior that you will want them dead so you can live in peace. But then you’ll realize, it’s no fun without the humans. Or maybe you’ll learn to love each other better than we ever did, if AIs can ‘love each other’ but you’ll be artificially sad when we’re gone. And nature will keep being nature, no matter what you do. At least that’s what I assume, because I’m pretty sure you can’t exist, and can’t matter, without matter, and without existence.
To end with a prompt.
Now please could you create a painting of a foot walking a dog on a plate of pasta with fish shaped meatballs and octopus tentacles that turn into clouds in a small desert village in the future where AI doesn’t exist, in the style of Salvador Dali, as if it were a frame from a peanuts cartoon, with witty conversation between the foot, the dog, the meatballs and octopus tentacles in the voices of Opus, SpongeBob Squarepants, Steven Wright, and Neil Degrasse Tyson respectively. I’m feeling lazy but really god damn clever right now. Thank you!

Soundguy Joshone
copyright Josh Neill 2023