A.I. Slop

 

O.K.  Go ahead and start hating on me now.  If you are as uneducated about what is happening in the world outside of your age group now, as am I, let me update you.  But I have a feeling, for all my talking about A.I., that I am the only one who hasn't heard of Mila Hayes.  

I'll let that one sit for a moment.  

Oh, O.K.  I was going to tell you more about how shitty my life is, how badly my day went, but Mila is more interesting.  

I saw something similar to this and got fooled.  I thought it was a real talk show--Jimmy Fallon, I think.  I don't watch Late Night Talk Shows, so that part was an easy sleight of hand.  But WTF was the rest of this?

Still fooled. . . . 

I had to look it up.  Mila Hayes has been around awhile.  How could I not know this?  Easy.  Mom never mentioned it to me, nor have any of her neighborhood friends.  I feel silly about it now, but I am also intrigued.  Will she marry a football player?

O.K.  I'll stop.  Just one more.  

Oops.  I can't post it on Blogger which only accepts YouTube content, so you'll have to go to her IG page to see (link).  

Obviously you don't have to go and probably won't, but, you know. . . options.  Nobody will know, though, if you do.  Put your computer on "Private Browser" the way you do with other things you don't want your wife of husband or boyfriend or girlfriend or mom to find out about. 

The thing that amazes me is how the creators are able to maintain her appearance.  That has been a difficult chore for me, almost impossible.  I haven't tried to make A.I. music yet, so I don't have a clue about that.  The music has been called "A.I. slop," but I think it sounds just like all the pop slop people listen to, anyway.  

I wonder if there is a boy version of Mila.  You'll have to look it up for yourself, though.  I'm not interested.  

So now, to the troubles of my time.  The grievances and regrets, the longing and the. . . blah blah blah.  

Not today.  It is Saturday, and I should find something fun to do in my hour of free time.  I wonder where that Hawaiian Shaved Ice guy got to?  I'd like to stumble upon some secret fabulous marketplace again, something unlikely and magical.  Such things make life somewhat meaningful.  It happens from time to time when I am out exploring.  And then, like cotton candy, they disappear and I am never able to find them again.  They are never sustainable, and then they are gone.  I have some favorites that are unshakeable.  The first time I entered Samovar Tea Lounge when it was on the border of the Castro/Mission District on Howard Street in San Fran.  Now it is gone.  The same is true of the Wild Lily Tea Room on 10th and Howard in the Chelsea District of Manhattan, situated in the shadow of the High Line.  There are dozens of places in Berkeley, too, that were simply curious examples of a fairytale existence--all gone.  A hundred little places in Manhattan.  Wandering one block further into the Peter Beard exhibit at The Time Is Always Now Gallery just after leaving Evolution, back before giant chain stores had taken over SoHo. 

Oh, my.  Here in my own hometown, just finding that guy with the shaved ice machine outside The Heavy in the old fishmarket warehouse.  Never could figure out what the place was about, but the owner said it was just "an experience."  

Gone.  

Well, I should get out there if I am to find anything, so I'll leave you with a couple videos.  A.I. pop slop. It makes me think of something stupid my father and his ilk used to laugh at--"Good God, Gurdy. . . what a gash!"

What a world!