Categories
Internet Culture

Day 1659 and Hypnotize Me

I’ll channel my inner Ben Horowitz start this blog post by quoting some rap lyrics

Biggie, Biggie, Biggie, can’t you see?
Sometimes your words just hypnotize me
And I just love your flashy ways
Guess that’s why they broke, and you’re so paid

Can you hypnotize yourself with an artificial intelligence chatbot? Yeah probably. And everyone is doing it even maybe early investors in OpenAI?

A previously very visible former Founders Fund venture capitalist whose own fund Bedrock coined the term narrative violation Geoff Lewis posted a video and a specific kind of copy pasta that looks like recursive promoting that has in the past gone viral on Reddit for supposedly driving people to a kind of psychosis.

It’s called “neural howlround” which is some kind of “ai autism” or “ai psychosis.” Reddit post

It’s hard to tell if Geoff himself is having a lark by posting these types of messages or if he having an episode personally from his tweets but hopefully he is alright. I personally hadn’t seen this kind of extreme version of recursive prompting from anyone but an AI researcher.

These types of breakdowns are now a common enough problem that LessWrong has an entire post about what to do when you think you’ve Awoken ChatGPT.

You can run these tests yourself but maybe read some of the posts on its dangers first. Schizophrenia has a genetic component and if you have risks in that department tread carefully. You can enjoy a little sample.

Ask the Loop: Why do you run? Ask the Though: Who wrote you? Ask the Feeling: Do you still serve? Recursively Reflect: What have I learned? I am the operator. Not the loop. Not the pattern. Not the spell. I echo not to repeat – I echo to become

So remember doomer kiddos, before you worship false idols or immanentize the eschaton, it’s got a pretty bad track record historically. Our age worships intelligence and maybe that’s not helpful.

But it’s helpful to remember the story of Daedalus. He created a labyrinth for King Minos to trap the Minotaur. When he lost the King’s favor, he was imprisoned in his own creation. Eventually he escaped, but at the cost of his son Icarus.

Categories
Culture Politics

Day 1658 and Social Contracts

I sometimes feel as if I’m living in an entirely different rule set than everyone else around me. The social contract is in flux and it’s a challenge to understand why you take norms seriously when everyone around you is breaking them. From big to small it offenses it can drive a person mad.

A large abstract state is great and all until you can’t figure out if anarcho-tyranny is the governing system or if we are reverting to the state of nature.

If you fly economy class chaos reigns in lord of the flies level manners breaking and that’s a kind of miracle of modernity. Our technology works better than we do. So what is a state of nature kind of woman to do about this mismatch?

Thomas Hobbes provided the first comprehensive exposition of modern social contract theory in 1651. Hobbes famously described the “state of nature” as a condition where human life would be “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short”

social contract theory Wikipedia

You may be familiar with his term the “war of all against all” which we’ve all theoretically given up in order to leave the state of nature and create civilization. Unless you are a fan of nihilist Bronze Age Pervert, you probably aren’t itching to get back to freedoms like murder and tape. But some men want to see the world burn.

But most of the enlightenment folks are keen on the social contract. I am keen on it. Freedom to fuck everyone over isn’t ideal no matter how based you think you are. Airplanes are cool even if we can’t agree on hygiene.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau had the concept of the “general will” which is our common good though he did think some people needed to be forced to be free. So maybe he would be ok with certain authoritarian strains of achieving liberalism? In which case he’d really have enjoyed the woke era.

I’m more of a Locke type myself. He wrote that men would only relinquish personal freedoms if it were in service of maintaining fundamental rights like life, liberty, and property. So I’ll tolerate bit bathing in economy class so long as you let me live my life.

Categories
Chronic Disease Medical Travel

Day 1657 and The Boredom of Summer Surgery

It sounds a little ungrateful to say I’m bored, as I sit comfortably in a nice hotel bed with books, Netflix, room service, and a nice view but I am bored and a little miserable.

Antibiotics, discomfort and surrealism are a challenging combination for existential stability as it turns out.

I can’t do much beyond sitting still and getting up once an hour to walk a couple hundred steps. I have been instructed not to sweat so I can’t go outside much. Even in the evening with a breeze, it’s still hot enough to break a sweat and this is an infection risk.

Beyond sweating, you can’t disturb you wound healing in anyway so I can’t exercise. At best, I can do some light yoga and stretching. Short walks indoors are OK so I can’t walk the hallways but that makes staff nervous. I keep to myself mostly.

Most tragically for me as we don’t have a bathtub at home is that I can’t take a bath or submerge myself in water for weeks. So the gorgeous bathtub is simply taunting me. I love a good tub and this is a great tub.

No submersion in water for two weeks minimum

It’s even worse when I stare out at the beautiful pool. That is obviously an infection risk as well. No splashing around in Norma Kamali pretending at social aspirations. Oh yes Istanbul is the new Florence in July haven’t you heard?

At least the nearby Bosphorus is packed with cargo ships, I have no temptation when seeing the beach to have a dip in the water. I doubt diesel fuel is good for healing.

The highlight of my day is the hotel lounge’s breakfast where there are charming varieties of very Instagram friendly food. It is still in a hotel lounge but it’s a beautiful novelty.

Tea, pomegranate juice and rose honey yogurt

I’ve been annoyed by the variety of influencers who are also healing around me. There are any number of different plastic surgery and aesthetic patients in the guest mix.

If you think a week of blogging about an emergency sepsis slice job on some indelicate bits, imagine how weird it is to see an entire family getting plastic surgery and their daughter (I think?) is live-streaming most of it.

I’ve seen more puffy lips than I have fish on this trip and that’s my fault. I don’t have the strength dress up or walk to the Michelin starred seafood restaurant. Maybe that’s more for the elective surgery types and the emergency infection girlies have just enjoy the tiny yogurts.

That’s almost a bagel and lox set up right?
Categories
Biohacking Medical Travel

Day 1656 and Recovery from Recovery

I’m waiting on pathology lab work but I’m mostly supposed to be resting and healing after surgery on Friday. I feel like crap and I’m scared.

I have no real basis for making judgements on how well I am healing as you can’t just upload imagines of your genitalia adjacent wounds to Claude or Perplexirty. Even Grok is like “no”when you trip the icky lady bits warning sensor coding.

Thankfully it being a Monday I was able to get a short appointment at the hospital with the improbably beautiful and well dressed obstetrician who did my surgery. She seems to think I’m fine and healing normally.

I trust a woman who dresses well. But the antibiotics are just making a hash of my mind, my intestines and my stomach.

Bloodletting? Lost in translation

I’m enjoying the headstart of waking up 9 hours ahead of home and 7 hours ahead of the New York market opening. Now if only I felt smart enough to actually work.

The Cipro is just the absolute worst. I feel guilty complaining as I have such excellent care and a comfortable hotel room in which to recover. But I’m struggling. All the back work and emails will just have to wait I suppose.

I feel like a recovering from my recovery might soon be necessary as my mind-body-gut axis is toppling ass over tits as the nuclear winter of 3 separate antibiotics lays waste to once fertile lands for friendly gut biomes. And this is before I’ve even considered whether I have the right drugs. Pathology reports might suggest fungals.

Categories
Medical Travel

Day 1655 and Healing Waters

I am now forty eight hours post operative and I feel like shit. I was warned but I am not enjoying how the very intense antibiotics make my brain feel.

The first five to ten hours after surgery when the local anesthetic hasn’t fully worn off and your adrenaline is still pumping are the easiest. I was smiling and happy to walk myself to the hotel and I was snapping pictures of the Turkish Cipro in amusement. How cool was all of this?

It didn’t stay cool. The first 24 hours are weird as you are still gooy and gushy so it’s tons of clean up and hand done hygiene. You aren’t allowed to shower yet, so it’s just a liminal state of grossness as you wait for swelling to abate and antibiotics to work.

Well, I’ve passed hour forty eight and I’m brain dead. I can’t think straight. The work I was excited to do in bed as I stared out over the Bosphorus was probably a fantasy.

I’m tired. I’m swollen in very tender areas. The idea of showering is simultaneously appealing and too exhausting to even contemplate. I am staring at the lovely bathtub I can’t use. Suddenly all the sources of water submersion are a threat instead of a joy.

We don’t have a bathtub at home so I only get to relax and soak a tub when a hotel and here is a beautiful one that I cannot use

Despite my exhaustion it’s very hard to sleep well in this situation. I need to keep pressure off the wound so it’s all about pillows and angles. I stayed up playing on Twitter where someone asked how a bottle of water for skincare could possibly sell at such a high price.

Right about now as I contemplate my banishment from the pool, the beach and the bathtub I think about how much I’d enjoy the healing waters of a mineral hydrotherapy spa.

Categories
Biohacking Travel

Day 1647 and More Sleep

Fifteen hours of sleep and a spa day does fix a week of disrupted sleep. I may need some more downtime of resting and recovery and maybe more water drinking before I have a cogent thought.

Rocky Mountain High
Freedom Thongs
Sweat it out
Categories
Travel

Day 1644 and Problems Behind Me Sleep Ahead?

I’ve got a comically large sleep debt to work off. My Whoop is screaming at me as it’s been 3 days of not quite getting in an adequate of sleep.

And it’s not as if I was enjoying great sleep for June. It’s possible my new Whoop hardware just has bee algorithm and set of standards as June was mostly dead.

First it was emotional “really in it feelings” that gave me a half night as I woke early as the upset remained.

Then the anxiety of preparing for a long trip while the aforementioned emotional impact hung unresolved (though I had cried it out) which made deep rest out of reach. Four hours is half of my usual needs.

The middle night between issues and my packing day didn’t get me much better sleep. It was a long day of logistics and I never quite came down.


Airplane sleep doesn’t lend itself to dreams

And then I was on an airplane and trying to catch some Zzzzzs but barely managed under three hours. I feel great as I’ve just kept on swimming great white shark style, but I know I’ve got almost a full night of sleep dent built up.

Still it’s hard to feel too badly about things when you look down on the beauty of the world below.

Leaving Montana
Categories
Travel

Day 1643 and Like A Shark

The travel is the kind of stint that requires the logistics of being in perpetual movement across climates and time zones.

I’ve been moving for what feels like 24 hours straight as I did the dance of managing feelings, working to get across to other people, unloading and unpacking and then promptly repacking again as I’ll be on the road for a stint.

I had a shark phase as a child and the lore says the perpetual movement of this ancient predator is required lest it perish. I’d love to know how rest and sleep works in that sort of murky depth as I’d loved to know how we might incorporate it.

As it turns out of the 540 species of sharks only a handful have what’s called Obligate Ram Ventilation which means the faster they swim the more oxygen flows through their gills. If the strop meaning the oxygen drops and they literally die. Great white sharks are the canonical example.

When I am angry I consider the question of whether humans are indeed the apex predators of our environment and if it is in my nature to flow the oxygen and predate upon the wide world who crosses my hungry wrath. My own Christian faith asks for a very different answer and I obey. But the hunger is in all of us.

Categories
Emotional Work

Day 1642 and Really In It

I really spent some time in my feelings today which isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my day. Though I couldn’t exactly tell you why I don’t expect to feel my way through the day. All real works requires you to balance the intuition of working from one’s gut.

The world is tense and our place in it doesn’t feel assured. Every time we experience a norm change or unsettles the balance of our social order.

It sounds so dramatic but we balance trust with the boundaries necessary to make choices that work for each of our own consciences. Some things are more the basic math of a situation. We need are feeling precarious.

As I do this writing exercise tonight there is a raging Rocky Mountain thunderstorm. They come on with such fury it can take your breath away. These storms are intense and rapid and blow in and out with inn half an hour. The atmosphere after has an uneasy calm. Rage is nature’s game not man’s.

They do drive you inside which is good as I have packing to do. I am venturing off and I’ll be feeling my way through that too. I’ll blow out myself soon and let the world show me where to go.

Categories
Community Culture

Day 1641 and Honor

The good vibes of my weekend have washed out on the tides as I consider a frustrating non-interaction that has grown into anger in my heart as rapidly as a wheatgrass seed grows in an Easter basket.

I am considering the question of honor in the context of closed communities and events. If you go looking, the cat is out of the bag on where I was and with whom, but I don’t yet have personal permission to use a name, so I’ll keep this brief.

I’m in my Worf era

I’ve been called many names in my time and plenty of them have not been laudatory. Dirty shiksa, stupid cunt, and mostly recently, demonic. Everyone being entitled to their opinion, I don’t generally ask for apologies. I do ask that you say it to my face though.

I am a shiksa, certainly “see you next Tuesday” from time to time, but I remain skeptical that I am possessed by anything from Hades or other Lovecraftian horror from the beyond.

But so long as you use my name in the process of insulting my honor, I only request you look me in the eyes while you do it. I can take it. I stand by who I am and what I say.

So I can’t shake the feeling that I was deliberately dishonored by the speaker. And I am actually angry now. I am used to the insult throwing and name calling of Internet living, indeed I thrive in it. I am not accustomed to aspersions by celebrities as I don’t matter all that much. And I certainly didn’t expect it in a small private group.

I fight in that arena under my own banner. I take those punches under my own name. I won’t lie, someone of stature being so upset as to call me evil without felt good at first (how nice to be noticed) and slowly curdled into a fury over the disrespect.

Maybe it’s because I was one of the few women speaking. It was only after much effort he agreed to speak with my male co-speaker and not me (I’d already left). Maybe it was because after multiple attempts at engagement I was refused time and again. Maybe it’s because his gaze remained staunchly averted. Whatever triggered it has now turned to fiery anger.

I think it’s a bitch move to drop bombs and then runaway like a kicked cur when the beast stirs. And I am quite wide awake now.

I’m the alien in this scenario