Lately I have amused myself by editing iPhone photographs of Hilton Head Island and by using AI (artificial intelligence) on all my devices (iPhone, iPad and MacBook Pro) to create images of heraldic shields. The capacity of both (photographs and AI) for novelty, simplicity and facility is astounding.  I recall for example at 18 years of age having bought my first 35mm camera, an Agfa Silette LK. My introductory experiment with it went badly. Unknowingly I exhausted an entire roll of film (but kept taking photos) before appreciating my mistake.  It was an unfortunate learning curve because I had been using the camera on our automobile journey from Stockholm, Sweden to the Arctic Circle and back through the Norwegian fjords to Oslo. From what I recollect I lost the last frame of film after sailing on the Baltic Sea and upon arrival at the Arctic Circle. I am quite certain none of the photographs would have amounted to anything in any event. I subsequently bought a Nikon but every photograph I ever took that had been developed has since vanished.

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It’s a question I have often asked myself and I suspect it is one others have on occasion asked themselves too; viz., What if things had been different? To begin, the seat of the curiosity arises, at least in my case, from the knowledge that I had other choices along the way. This of course is not the case for everyone for whom the question arises. Some people merely wonder whether things would’ve been different if they had escaped certain peril or infirmity for example.  Not everyone one of us has options in life; but we all follow paths which by whatever consequence, whether decided by us or otherwise, change our course and direction in life. Similarly whatever that alignment, the result is in retrospect inalterable. Therefore it would appear that the examination of what might have been different is purely whimsical and illogical, perhaps even unhealthy or at the very least unhelpful and unnecessary.  I do not however agree entirely.

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Excerpt From
Michel de Montaigne.
“The Essays of Montaigne — Complete.”

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It began on a crisp Saturday evening, February 24, 1996, in the heart of the ByWard Market. The air in the bar was thick with the scent of cigarettes, mingling with the sharp, intoxicating aroma of martinis. Bee and Dee met by happenstance, two souls drawn together by the magnetic pull of chance. Their conversation was effortless, flowing like a well-aged spirit, each word strengthening the foundation of an unspoken connection.

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Note to Reader: What follows is an exact copy of a conversation I had with AI (here attributed to “Hal”).  What is transcribed is both precisely what I (“Me”) wrote and what AI (“Hal”) responded.  Nothing has been changed.  It constitutes for me my first palpable excitement of this technology, the amplification of which I continue to investigate. The featured image was as well created by the ChatGPT.

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A Sunday—an interlude, a quiet withdrawal from the relentless mechanics of commerce that govern the preceding week. The island, usually caught in the thrumming pulse of routine, today moves at a gentler pace. The roads, once burdened with urgency, are untroubled now, their silence a hymn to the lingering reverence of the sabbath—whether by faith, by habit, or by some unspoken need for respite. Even in this modern age, the seventh day asserts its quiet dominion, as though time itself acknowledges the necessity of stillness.

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After breakfast this morning at Lowcountry Produce & Market, we punctuated our afternoon idleness with a leisurely meander through the neighbourhood. Though substantial, breakfast did not immediately induce drowsiness. However upon returning home to the drawing room, we lingered long enough to peruse the news and collect our thoughts before gathering ourselves for more productive pursuits. This endeavor first required a wardrobe transition —from the “formal” casual pants and cardigan worn at breakfast to the more agreeable “comfortables” of sweatpants, a long-sleeved silk shirt, and a nylon undergarment, well-suited for tricycling. The relentless pursuit of comfort is imperative.

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Contradiction, as a personality trait in the manner of gainsaying, is often associated with those of Highland heritage, where conflict and denial have historically played a fundamental role in its emergence, existence, and continuation. This predisposition stems from a deep-seated conviction that opposition must be met with unwavering refutation and defense. Often, the mere perception of an intrusion—whether upon oneself, one’s bloodline, or one’s tribe—is enough to provoke immediate resistance. To do otherwise might be seen as an unfavorable concession, an admission of impropriety or inadequacy.

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In a recent fire dampening epistle from our financial advisor, he quoted, “AI won’t take your job, but people who know how to use it will.”

Americans are on the threshold of understanding what is happening in Congress, the seat of national government (the Senate and the House of Representatives).  The relevancy of this uncharacteristic attention (normally confined to election trumpeting) has arisen because of a new and similarly unprecedented conflict. The complexities of government are being overtaken by an unresolved candidness which surpasses the rhetoric of bipartisanship and standard opposition bashing.  The attempt of Trump to colour and fly his royalty of conduct for widespread federal price cutting by firing federal employees, by pursuing drug traffickers, by expulsion of illegal immigrants, by wiping the intellectual slate clear of uncomfortable esoteric (aka “woke”) conversation, by adopting popular religious themes against minority models – and expressing it all in the equally blunt language of accusation – has unwittingly entered into sharp opposition to the appetite of the public for flavourless commonality and prejudice.

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