Human Tremor = deliberate preservation and amplification of the writer’s visible humanity: mistakes, overreaches, contradictions, raw confessions, and idiosyncratic syntax that “prove a creator is human.”

Of course, it’s obvious from the tone or perspective that this statement was written by AI, trying to assess and assign value to my term, “the human tremor.”

Here’s what I meant.

Humans are irreplaceable, un-cloneable. The emotional side, vulnerable side, empathetic side, is what AI will *never* be able to measure or add to. Humans are non-binary, analog, and emotional. AI and robots are not. And can never be. Amen.

AI is not even close at comprehending even the simplest word: blue.

Let me show you what AI does with the word “blue.” Here a few data points from Google’s own AI summarize feature. The word blue means:

Okay, the color. Let’s see how AI does with the meaning.

Sources for further exploration.

Here is my human tremor around the blue I’m feeling.

This was a rough ride. Too high for my own good. Too flushed from the passionate embrace to see the folly of my arrogance. As she spins down with the idea that our conversations are over. I am not cultivating friends or running buddies. I have a strong community.

I attempted a fool’s errand again. I will probably do it again.

After several years of solo rock climbing, I was enthusiastic about finding someone so perfect for me. And… Still married. I know I harp on that, but it came to symbolize a bit of the dysfunction.

My experience and wisdom do not add up to success. My loss and sadness contain the outline of the whirlwind of an adventure we shared. Both blue notes and red notes were present. A lot of highlights. So many positives. I did feel my entire body change, energetically, to align with hers.

And then… In trying to execute a Brené Brown Braving move, I drove away from an awful situation that was causing me to be angry. Here’s what my mind said, “Why fire this anger at her? She’s just doing her thing, probably oblivious to the situation she’s put me in. Trapped in my car in her driveway.”

That moment tripped her safety wire. It never reset.

She had put up a guitar hanger for my Breedlove guitar. I had left it there so I could write and play music while I was visiting her house. She asked me to take my stuff home. The guitar hanger is empty.

Her husband is a much better guitar player than I am. And 15 years my junior. Um, was that an issue as well? For her, I mean?

Stop.

I apologize. I don’t mean to be mean, to take her inventory, or disparage her. She’s gone.

Free to be blue, red, or transparent. The future looks bright.

back to the glitching index