Davide Aversa

I am not convinced by the idea that if AI is able to create “better art” than humans, then humans will lose the motivation for art, and all human creations will suddenly lose meaning.

Yes, AI one day will write in a blink of an eye a better book than I will ever write… so what?

Currently, I write even knowing that other humans create consistently and more easily better books than I could possibly ever write. Is this making my work meaningless to me? Is the idea of better writers, or better pixel artists, or better composers, is depriving me of something? No. I am doing creative things because I like doing them, because I need to do them, because they are important and significant to me. I enjoy the process; I like to be able to say that that thing is mine. I value that a human did it (the same I am more excited watching a human chess match than watching two chess engines battling each other).

So, no. If an AI can create better books than humans, good for them. The meaning of art is way bigger than its mere output.

I have a problematic relationship with podcast queues. Obviously, more new podcast minutes are entering my inbox list than hours in a day. So, I should be resigned that I’ll never listen to them all. Yet, I feel constantly bugged by the fact that they are there waiting.

I should skip them. Surrender that I’ll never be able to catch up with all the episodes. I should delete the less interesting ones and move on.

But my completionist part suffers from it. I often listen to 1 hour of podcasts I didn’t really care about, only to mark them as complete. 🤔

What was the damn point?

Every choice we make means giving up to infinite alternatives. It is a rock-solid truth of life that is really hard to master.

I should start with my podcast queue. At least.

🎶 A week ago, I bought the latest King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard’s live album: Live at Red Rock ’22.

It is 86 tracks long for a total o 8 hours and 32 minutes. It was a damn project. It took me an entire week to listen to it all.

And I regret nothing.

5/5

Finished reading: Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel 📚

4/10.

This is a suggestion for anyone who wants to write anything with time travel: don’t.

Time travel is always a disgusting mess. There are probably five good time travel fiction products. Everything else is an incoherent mess full of plot holes, logical contradictions, and nonsensical story progression.

The more your work tries to be “serious,” the more time travel looks ridiculous.

This book makes no exception. The time travel aspect is a total joke.

Apparently, this book won Goodreads’s best SciFi of 2022. So, 2022 must have been a truly horrible year for SciFi.

But I want to write about time travel!

Fine. There is only one approach to time travel that doesn’t instantly make me barf: the one compatible with the Block Universe. In that case, there is no “we need to protect the timeline” nonsense because everything exists at the same time (it is bloody confusing to use the language of our limited linear-time brain to discuss eternalism). So, when a character goes back in time, they cannot mess up the “present” because the present already discounts the fact that the character went to the past and did what they did.

Why can I tolerate this? Because our universe works (mostly) this way. It is a consequence of Einstein’s Special Relativity.

(In theory, to avoid every time paradox, a Time Machine should be able to go back only to the time it was created. But I can pass on this one.)

Time Travel is complicated, and it almost never makes a story better.

So, please, just don’t.