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Impossible Tasks, chat GPT 4.0 & Lousy Scrabble Based Poetry
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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At the thrift shop I found a set of magnetic Scrabble tiles, and conceived the notion that "wouldn't it be cool if I could write a poem using all 100 scrabble tiles and 2 blanks", with the intent of dumping it on the magnetic poetry board at the cafe I frequent.
Of course it would be cool, only my creativity wouldn't suffer said restraint, but there's been a lot of talk about the brilliance of AI lately, and so I turn to Chat GPT 4.0.
Now, while I can't show you the entire chat here - for some reason logging back into it today it's truncated the back-forth nature of our dialogue into merely it's last failed attempts. It took about a dozen tries to make it understand I didn't want a poem that used all the available letters in the alphabet, that I wanted a poem constructed entirely out of Scrabble tiles that used them all but no more, the two blanks it can use as it wishes.
Finally it delivers - if you can call it that:
A waltz of quick brown fox jumps.
Over the lazy dog, bright vibes hum.
Zealous jackdaws fly next.
Happy quails sing by pond.
Now, it gave me a few results of similar quality, which I can't share due to our truncated chat. But in every instance upon reviewing it I found that certain tiles weren't used, and others were used too much. So I point it out, and Chat GPT does a self analysis, and then apologizes and tries again, assuring me that it's now got it right. Only it hasn't. And so I send it back and it tries again, and does another self analysis, posting it for me to see:
- S: 4 - (A waltz of quick brown fox jumps. Over the lazy dog, bright vibes hum. Zealous jackdaws fly next. Happy quails sing by pond.)
- T: 6 - (A wterful, quick brown fox jumps. Over the lazy dog, bright vibes hum. Zealous jackdaws fly next. Happy quatls sing by pond.)
And here you have it, the smoking gun, just like that guy next to you it's fudging it's own self analysis by changing the poem. Every time. Until finally, like a petulant little Elon-Musk-child it tells me I need a subscription to listen to more of it's gibbering idiocy...
"You've reached your GPT-4o limit. You need GPT-4o to continue this chat because it uses tools. "
We don't want to make the AI think now, do we? The dangers - and intelligence - of AI so far have been blatantly oversold.
The death of Dag
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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At the liquor store after and I run into Sasha, Dag's daughter. I'm mentioned her here before, posted a picture of her, young 80's, feisty, always with a joint in her month. I'd visited her in November in the hospital, asking Sasha where she is now, did she get into a home, and no, she passed away January 6th, 2 months in the hospital, not even a month in the home. No obituary, Sasha's choice.
And so that's that, another bit of the local color gone, the town, it's becoming gentrified in the worst of possible ways. All the people that gave it color, character, dropping off one by one...
the quietude of mind
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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And this, noted, following any rave or big night out, the quietude of mind.
Exactly that. That the world's dialed down to 1, 0 even. You hear the sounds, the street, the mind-numbing chatter of idiots, but it's dialed down to zero.
There's no background noise, nothing, not even the sound of your own thoughts. Just a comfortable absence of all thought.
Outside, thundershowers, rain. The same as the subliminal stop-smoking soundtrack I listen to.
I check the fridge for food, nothing but condiments, I make up some rice and choose from a variety of flavours to season it with.
Now I can see past the abomination I've made, can see clearly the errors in the painting on the easel, and sit quietly and enjoy the absence of mind. A proper stay-cation.
Symbols...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Ideas & Questions
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Inspired in a bit by "A Beginners Guide to Constructing the Universe..." I've been thinking - in the background, about the universality of man's symbols.
And there's been a few insights. My own, but probably not, probably read, forgotten, remembered again when I was ready to remember.
Mostly triggered by the observation that the the Muslim symbol for "Allah" resembles a hand.
A hand, any hand, is a maker's mark, "Action", movement made from the 2 dimensional realm of thought into the 3 dimensional realm of action. That a hand should represent God is the most overlooked "clue" that we are, in fact, our own Gods.
But let's go to the first symbol. An easy one, the circle. '0'. "Zero". '0', compassing a circle, the perfect shape, the minimal number of lines compassing the greatest area. The wholeness, the unit, and - in a queer reversal, representing nothing. Both the absence and the everything. Or a point - the beginning of dimensionality.
Next, 1 - or I (the letter, the word "I" and it's phonetic equivalent "eye") - individuation, the process of beginning, via Fibonacci the possibility of all numbers, possibilities, people and things begin. "I" as in me, myself, my own singular viewpoint upon creation, "eye", the word spelled as a pair of eyes looking over a nose (the "Y") into the distance, 2 "I"'s because of course we have 2, 2 united to form 1 point of view. Horus, the Falcon-Headed Egyptian God, depicted as 1 eye - again, the individuation, the right eye representing the sun or morning star, power and quintessence, the left eye representing the moon or evening star, symbolic of healing and regeneration. 1 - a line between 2 points, 1 dimensional.
Curious that when examined their symbolism should be so apparent, but this is the trick of religion, to hide the truth...
2 Eyes too, "two" - represent the other. You see how clever that is? From 1 - "I" to "Two" - and now we no longer have the symbol of ourselves, we have the symbol for another - looking back, reflected upon us, just as we look upon it, the other, them, the other looks back at us.
Then there is the Hand - again, the symbol of creation, the spelling of "God" or "Allah" - perhaps one of the most ancient of symbols, found spray-painted in relief in Caves, tens and possibly even hundreds of thousands of years old, symbol of our presence and action in the world, close fisted, a punch, open, a slap, a caress, the possibilities beginning from the 5 fingers flow on to the infinite.
"Breath", or breathing, this our presence as part, not the totality, of the world, breathing, as in eating or drinking ("This is the body, this is the blood") represents our portion of the whole. That even while separate we are one. While there are symbols for this - of it's nature, invisible, language - speaking, the word - best represent this.
And then symbols build on to symbols, the fish becomes the symbol of water, the unconscious, the well of creation and creative thought, birds become symbols of the air, the air, the possibilities, unbounded, and symbols of more recent import, like keys, which imply understanding, and keyholes, which provide a limited view upon possibilities as yet unrealized...
Symbols of our own creation, yet somehow have acquired a universality...
Anyways, these are my throw-away thoughts for the day, time now to finish off the atrocity on my easel and begin painting although, perhaps, given my introspective turn, it might be better to smear all the colours upon the canvas and scraping away to reveal the meaning...
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