- Kim was away for work again, so I mostly stayed in and spent more time with the Vision Pro. Apple’s new VIP video series that takes you to major sporting arenas doesn’t sound like my sort of thing on paper, but the first episode on Yankee Stadium was a surprisingly entertaining watch. The crowds feel real and the only thing missing was a closeup of a hot dog. It was filmed last June, I think, and feels like a document of a much saner time. There are still many more apps and videos I have yet to check out.
- Back in the present, Trump’s wacky tariff rollout drama continued, with the latest being a series of takesies-backsies that is great news for Apple and other makers of computers and smartphones: exemption from whatever the crazy current rate is on imports from China. 125%? Or was it 155%? Everyone now expects the stock to surge on Monday’s open, but come on, none of these pronouncements stick or mean anything now. The best move might be to sell all US-based assets and spend the next year off-the-grid on a beach somewhere.
- Starbucks has done a collaboration with Peanuts (that’s Peanuts × Starbucks, for readers who were here last week), and of all the merch they put out, it was a yellow stoneware mug that I liked the best. It features the whole gang sitting at a long table, with Snoopy dressed as a barista and serving up espressos in his latest persona, a corporate caffeine shill stupidly named “Joe Kind”. I like Snoopy, probably on account of being exposed to the Apple TV 4K’s wonderful Snoopy and Woodstock screensaver, so I’m turning a blind eye to this sacrilege. Anyway I received my mug in the mail this week and it’s my new teatime go-to.
- I did go out fairly early on Saturday morning to go hang out with a bunch of coffee nerd ex-colleagues who spent more time messing around with grind sizes than I ever thought possible (my contribution was a bag of beans fresh from Ho Chi Minh). It was a good time, and the occasion gave me a novel writing prompt to try out, which brings to me to my latest ChatGPT-based hobby…
- About two years ago, when we were just grappling with the GPT-3 model and what it could do, I spent quite a lot of time trying to get it to write passable poetry. The most successful approach I found was to provide it with a detailed character backstory and ask it to write from that person’s perspective, taking into account their preferred styles and word choices. I managed to eke out some genuinely good stanzas (imo), was moved and amazed, and then moved on to other experiments and forgot about it.
- Until this week, that is, when I wondered how the latest models would fare given the same tasks. I put my old prompts together into a custom GPT, and asked for the first silly idea that came to mind: a poem about growing older but ironically becoming more attracted to cute things like Snoopy. It did an honestly good job with just that. Then I asked it to write one about the story of how he got his name — a true story: Charles Schulz’s mother daydreamed they’d buy a family dog when she recovered from cancer, but she never did — and the result was good enough to refine further. So I went back and forth on it with the bot (who I named Penrose), combined several attempts, intervened slightly, and here’s where we landed.
She Gave Him the Name
“If we ever get another dog,”
she said,
“we should call him Snoopy.”
It was a small thing,
tucked between errands
or waiting rooms,
the kind of sentence
you don’t expect to echo.
He was fifteen.
Maybe he nodded.
Maybe he carried it like lint in his pocket,
forgotten
until everything else was gone.
Years later,
drawing alone in his studio,
he gave the name to a dog
who danced on rooftops,
typed novels no one would read,
stood in for joy
and for all the feelings
boys weren’t supposed to have.
Snoopy caught on.
So did the quiet boy with no luck,
the girl who loved too hard,
the blanket dragged across the years.
The world came to know them
and needed their steady kindness.
Maybe that’s what it means
to miss someone forever,
to take the smallest thing they gave you
and let it become
the sky above everything you make.
- And here’s one from another session where I asked it to identify a core human paradox and write something about it. It chose to explore how we want freedom but crave structure.
The Night I Rearranged the Furniture
I moved the couch against the other wall
just to see if the room felt different.
It didn’t.
I stared at it like it had betrayed me,
then moved it back.
It was past midnight.
The kind of hour
when you wonder
if this version of your life
is the one that sticks.
I opened the window to let in some air,
but it was the same air as yesterday.
Nothing new came through.
I thought about driving somewhere,
but didn’t know what I’d be driving to.
The gas tank was full.
The fridge was full.
I was full of something I couldn’t name.
They say people like me
always want to leave,
but never go far.
We change the wallpaper.
We cut our hair.
We imagine new cities
without maps.
The truth is, I love knowing where the forks are.
I love the sound the radiator makes
right before it kicks in.
I love the old light switch that sticks
unless you press it just right.
But still—
some nights I crave an airport gate,
a highway at dusk,
a conversation in a town
where no one knows what I used to be.
I don’t go.
I just stay up too late
and move the couch.
- It feels unreal to have this tool for S$30/mo. I can ask it for poems about any random scenario or feeling, and it tends to throw out lines and images that catch me off guard. I’ve now taken to giving it things I half-wrote long ago and never finished, and it gives pretty good notes. An unexpected side effect of this is that I’m feeling more inspired myself, and now I’m asking it to give me prompts, and I’ll write things for it to review.
- Here’s one I reworked this week.
He died in his 17th year
And flowers were laid by the side of the road
Fit to be swept within just a fortnight
Parents kept his memory alive another thirty years,
Until grief or emptiness took them too
I used to think we were made for more
How clever bones and cells can seem
But a body is mostly waiting to be undone
And our home keeps going around the sun
While out there
Nothing waits for no one
- While I was messing with Penrose, OpenAI launched a new feature called “Memory”, where ChatGPT is able to reference all your past conversations across previously separate chats. The way they chose to showcase it was to suggest you let the AI describe you, the black mirror lighting up to reveal a camera was recording all along. I didn’t expect them to so transparently demonstrate how this technology is a more powerful, more dangerous profiling machine that anything Facebook or Google has ever put online, but I suspect they think there’s nothing we can do. I asked it to guess how I felt about certain topics, like Nolan’s Batman trilogy or the Fujifilm X100VI camera. It didn’t exactly read my mind but they were very educated guesses. Not very reassuring. It offered to guess other things like my favorite cocktail (it said Negroni; not my absolute favorite but one of them), my favorite beer (a Belgian saison; not even close), and my favorite band (Radiohead; they might be in second place).
- This reminded me I was due another playthrough of OK Computer to keep my millennial card intact. It only gets better with time. I’ve also been listening to Counting Crows’ Hard Candy again recently. Some of those songs are the best that anyone or any AI will ever write.