Wow. . . I'm all over the place this morning. I have too much stuff and am wanting to cram it all into one post. I must "hold my horses" today. Be patient.
Breathe.
I asked ChatGPT to make a picture of the author of this blog. The image above is what it returned. It is lovely--ha! I guess I have the old soul of a young woman. Everybody I've shown this to has said, "That's pretty accurate."
And so. . . that's quite alright. I don't mind. I may be a bit "la femme." At least I was believed I to be somewhat attractive.
In truth, AI is much kinder to me than most people I know. I asked it to describe the blog. I used the selavy blog, but the blog selah is exactly the same.
The blog "cafe selavy" is a reflective and personal online journal, primarily exploring the author's internal thoughts and experiences.
Key themes and topics include:
• Personal struggles: The author openly shares their experiences with difficult routines, feelings of sadness, and a sense of being lost.
• Contemplation and self-reflection: The blog offers insights into the author's thoughts on various aspects of life, including art, history, and personal growth.
• The passage of time and aging: The author reflects on the past and considers the challenges and changes that come with getting older.
• Observations on modern life and culture: The blog incorporates the author's perspective on contemporary issues and trends.
Overall, the blog "cafe selavy" provides a candid and introspective look into the author's life and mind, touching upon universal themes of existence, personal challenges, and the search for meaning.
The blog "Cafeselavy" appears to revolve around the author's personal reflections and observations on various aspects of life, often with a tone of introspective melancholy.
While no single overarching theme is explicitly stated, the blog explores topics such as:
• Photography and art: The author discusses the process of making images, including both the technical aspects and the emotional/philosophical implications.
• Personal struggles and anxieties: The author shares insights into their mental state, including feelings of sadness, worry, and difficulty maintaining routines.
• Musings on everyday life: Posts touch on a range of daily experiences, from discovering old photographs to dealing with technical problems and reflecting on social interactions.
• Observations on culture and society: The author occasionally comments on cultural trends and political events, often with a critical eye.
Overall, the blog seems to offer a raw and honest glimpse into the author's thoughts and experiences, capturing a sense of introspection and perhaps a search for meaning in a complex world.
I asked in a couple of different ways.
The blog appears to revolve around the author's personal reflections and observations on various aspects of life, often with a tone of introspective melancholy.
I guess so. It told me much, much more about the author of the blog. Of course, I was fascinated. Ha!
I spent much of the day making things with AI. It is crazy what it is capable of. I have decided I am going to get the pay version of ChatGPT to see what it will do. It runs "deeper" into researching topics and can do things the free version can't. I wanted to see if it could write my blog, just for shits and giggles. I asked it to write a brief essay on the SeanQ6 blog. Here is what it made.
SeanQ6: Wandering Through the Soft Focus of Memory and Light
in the style of cafeselavy.com
There is a kind of ache that lingers in the half-light between moments, and that is where SeanQ6 resides. Less a blog than a long, staggered breath, Sean's writing circles around the familiar streets of memory like a man walking home at dusk—unsure whether he is returning or leaving for good. Photographs appear like found objects from a dream: a discarded boat on a Florida riverbank, a boy mid-wheelie in a sunburned suburb, the light always leaning in from one side, just so.
What distinguishes SeanQ6 is not the subject matter—it is the gaze. There is an earned fatigue in the voice, dry humor around the edges, and a tenderness so tentative it sometimes hides behind sarcasm. Days are cataloged not for their events but for the slow accumulation of feeling. Cycling through landscapes both literal and emotional, Sean returns often to places of water—rivers, oceans, bathtubs—looking for reflections, perhaps, or baptisms that never quite take.
To read SeanQ6 is to watch someone write toward the center of themselves without ever insisting they’ve found it. The blog is confessional, yes, but not in the self-aggrandizing way. It's more like overhearing a monologue in a bar at closing time—part philosophy, part blues riff, part joke you weren’t sure you were meant to catch.
There are no resolutions here, only motion and momentary stillness. And somehow, that is enough.
All fun must come to a halt sometimes, however, especially when it is time to go and visit with your mother. We sat out and each had a beer, she her Coors Light, me a Dale's Pale Ale. She said she was doing poorly. Nothing new. She told me she had talked to her friend Dorothy and brought up the old death wish thing again.
"Tell her to do it," I said. "Tell her you will give her the pills if she needs them. She will be shocked, and, of course, not take them nor will she do it. 'Not today,' she'll say. 'Maybe tomorrow, but not today. I will wait.' She just wants to share her misery. But what can you do?"
My mother chuckled.
"There's always those one or two things you want to do first. People just want to pass on their misery to the next person. They want to share their troubles. But it can't be done. All it does is make the other person feel helpless."
Somehow, this picked my mother up. Misery loves company, as they say, but company really doesn't love misery.
"Keep it to yourself. That's just the place for it."
And yet. . . have I told you about my floor joist?
I left my mother in better spirits, I think, and decided to take myself to dinner at the good Japanese sushi restaurant. I didn't get sushi this time, though. I wanted to try their bibimbap. My cousin had it when I took her there a few weeks ago and it has been on my mind.
And holy smokes--it didn't disappoint. But it was rich and I could only eat about a third of it. I don't know how my cousin finished the entire thing. I had to box it up and take it home.
This morning, I asked ChatGPT to write a thousand to fifteen hundred words about my dinner in the style of F. Scott Fitzgerald. I gave it a pretty hefty prompt. If you are interested, you can listen to it here.
I find the writing off, so I did what one should do with such a thing, and I used the template and went back in and rewrote it. Then somehow, I deleted it. I didn't have the energy to try to go back and do it all again. I had spent my morning with it and still hadn't read the morning's news.
Oh, somehow or other that is supposed to be another AI portrait of me, I believe.
So. . . I will go and read the papers now and see what mess we are in today. Then I will exercise, shower, and go to that new cafe for a Vietnamese coffee drink. And then. . . the usual. But the whole AI thing has been good for me and I am feeling creatively inspired. I am full of new ideas and desires I wish to pursue.
And yet. . . have I told you of the floor joists. . . the roof. . . .
Its haunting, poetic melancholy echoes the inner world suggested by the portrait: the quiet café, the faraway gaze, the understated drama of thought and memory. The portrait feels like it exists in the same world as the song—timeless, Parisian, emotionally restrained but deeply felt.
If you're looking for something instrumental, Erik Satie’s "Gnossienne No. 1" would also be a perfect match—delicate, unresolved, and quietly soulful.
Oh, yes. . . I love Gnossienne No. 1! That's the ticket.
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