Back in college, one of the apartments I lived in had a ‘house rule’ about alcohol: all of it must be finished before another run to the liquor store was made. So, every few weeks there would be a scattered few bottles of mixers and stuff people brought over at one point and time, and we would have a night of making strange concoctions to finish everything off. We’d mix different types of alcohol into strange shots that ranged from somewhat enjoyable to completely undrinkable. It was a dumb college thing with completely forgettable (and, easily forgotten) results.

It was, for the most part, literal slop.

This is sort of what I see AI as in the long-run. Cheap entertainment for a night in college. At high levels of processing, yes, it will be able to solve complex math problems. But for your average consumer, it’ll be somewhere between an assistant and a joke—something the most uninspired kids at university will use as a party trick.

People will always want to discover and create. Nobody who isn’t financially invested in AI wants to see it take over the arts. Company founders talk about a future where people will have to work less—what do they think those people will want to do with their time? Nothing? Being creative is part of human nature, and I don’t just mean painting or making music. Some people want to build houses, some want to tend to a garden, some want to explore caves. All of this comes from curiosity about the human experience, and none of it can be replaced by a computer.

Yet so many resources are being poured into this concept that a financial collapse of the industry would take down the entire economy. The people in charge are sociopaths with no appreciation for human potential; they’re neck-deep in a god complex with only the idea for the evolution of ‘intelligence’ as a north star. People want to go to concerts and museums and visit cool buildings and archeological sites and experience reality—not the mish-mash of stolen art prompted by someone who doesnt’ want to consider anything about what it means to have a heartbeat.

There are plenty of write-ups and think pieces on the internet about You Can See Everything right now (and, I mean, not without reason—I think it’s as provocative as anything in the last ten years in that regard), so I won’t add too much to that particular pile.

One thing that does send chills down my spine, though, is that the people featured in a documentary that is exploring manipulation, self-interest, control, and pathology are just two examples carved from the Silicon Valley arena of entrepreneurs who are attempting to dictate the future of western civilization (and, unfortunately, at the moment are largely succeeding). Evidence has been mounting for decades that the people in this niche exist on a spectrum between morally dubious and downright evil—and the film does an accidentally remarkable job at showing how the mentality it takes to live in that world plays out in everything about life that isn’t a business matter.

(It is also striking that this movie is exactly the kind of thing that AI could never produce. The creativity that has spawned the cultural phenomenon and dialogue around this film is the essence of what I mean when I say a machine cannot make art. This is nuance, it’s being able to understand human nature and question it simultaneously with equal and opposing force. It’s being able to navigate the unknown in a way that is emotionally resonant. It is, quite ironically, the type of thing that the Silicon Valley tech proponents would disregard in the face of a chat bot being able to replicate the style of Van Gogh.)

The AI company Anthropic lost $80 billion in the first half of 2026. The tech industry accounts for thirty-two percent of the entire value of the S&P 500. The ‘leaders’ of tech believe in the end of humanity—which could easily explain why they don’t seem to care about the risk involved in widespread economic collapse. The writing on an AI bubble bursting has been on the walls for some time now. Yet with this technology, it’s not that I mind the idea so much as I do those building it.

Invention is not a bad thing. But when you don’t believe in people, when you don’t care about even trying to understand art, and you’re kind of indifferent about the collapse of society, your hands should not be anywhere near the wheel that is driving us all toward the future. There are people who use guns to hunt for food, there are people who use guns to force others to do their bidding, there are people who use guns to outright murder. The people at the helm of the future of the world right now are the ones would at least qualify to be in the second category, and there are plenty who are just fine with the third. So when I say something like, AI terrifies me, it’s not that I’m scared of a machine, but rather what it will learn from its inventor.

The view from here

A view from The Grove parking lot after seeing You Can See Everything. I don’t even know what to say after this film, I just needed a post to document how much my head is in the sky was after seeing this. Just a juggernaut of a film that has so many levels I don’t even know where to start. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this and it will be on my mind for a long time.

Charlamagne Palestine at The Brick Annex

Body/Head at Zebulon

I’ve seen a couple avant-garde musical acts in the past couple days that, while sonically couldn’t be more different, seemed keyed in to the same door of utilizing sound to connect to something greater in the universe. Charlamagne Palestine used intense repetition and tonal improvisation on the piano while Body/Head was a nonstop barrage of distorted guitar with various effects layering a collage of pummeling sound.

The similarities between the two acts was striking, however. They both used long-form, anti-format performances to keep the music in the moment. Seeing your regular band at a show becomes predictable if you’re familiar with their songs—you know what parts are coming up, and they might have a slight variation, but for the most part, you’re getting a louder version of an album cut. These works were very much like, This is how the room feels right now, and there’s something inherently special about that.

It seemed very telling that the two were also helmed by musicians in their 70s. Charlamagne couldn’t even remember the year he was born when giving a brief introduction to his work. Kim Gordon is 73, although you wouldn’t know it from the noise she makes (as well as how generally youthful she appeared on stage). They are both obvious masters of their craft and respective instruments and, while giving into the moment, always seemed to have almost complete control over what was happening with the sound in the room.

Being able to walk that kind of tightrope in the arts is the type of great mastery we can all only aspire to. It’s also why, when AI executives claim making music is not enjoyable or some other bullshit, they obviously have no clue what they are talking about. These sounds were extensions of the human experience, reaching beyond what our physical bodies can feel and sense, into a place that requires a guide to go. That’s what great art is, and what the best technology will never be able to replicate.

Morton Feldman Rothko Chapel program

I was lucky enough to attend the sold-out performance of Rothko Chapel (among a few other, shorter works) that the Monday Evening Concert series put on tonight in honor of what would have been Morton Feldman’s 100th birthday (at least, earlier this year). It’s the second show celebrating Feldman I saw this week—last Friday, Oracle Egg had BlackBox Ensemble perform a similar event with different works.

Now, full disclosure, I knew nothing of Feldman before these concerts. While I listen to plenty of avant-garde music, it’s often in the shape of post-rock-adjacent bands or weird things I see at sparsely-attended local shows where someone has an array of objects they turn into something between a harmony and an unstructured wall of noise. The sort of high-brow, famous and studied crowd isn’t something I’m really familiar with.

That’s why I was particularly fond of hearing this performance tonight. I had no clue what to expect—it was honestly my love of Rothko more than anything that made me buy a ticket to begin with. But I left completely stirred by the music.

Performance set-up at Oracle Egg

This is the wonderful thing about experiencing art in general—there’s no telling how seeing Rothko Chapel will affect me or the work I make down the line, but it undoubtedly will, somehow, even if I am not fully aware of it. It feels almost stupid to write out—how taking in something creative can provoke inspiration—but we live in really stupid times when people are actively working against the idea that art made by humans has a place or purpose in life.

Beyond my ongoing laments about AI, though, seeing this made me both glad to be in Los Angeles but saddened by how capitalism all but ruins these types of performances for so many people by not allowing an avenue for them to be experienced at all. A ‘market’-based economy will always be cruel to the arts because it’s generally unpredictable what, if anything, will even break even with a financial investment (much less be any kind of success). Major cities generally have enough demand for a variety of cultural options that many forms of art can cultivate audiences; mid-sized cities are lucky to have one independent theater and a liberal arts college that offers annual concert series. Rural areas are basically fucked beyond anything that doesn’t play in a national, corporate movie theater chain.

Experiencing art helps develop abstract thought. When ten people see the same movie, even one that might be ‘philosophical’ in nature, they are all presented with the same basic concept in their heads because the plot of the film poses questions it seeks to answer. Perhaps it’ll make the people think about variations of that question, but all ten people will have fairly concentrated thought processes. Taking in an experimental concert, or looking at abstract paintings, makes the ten people come up with their own questions before trying to reach a conclusion. The experience itself provokes so much more than what entertainment provides for—it has the potential to spur on more conversations, develop greater ideas, and make people more open in general.

As ideas are being chiseled away at and culture that doesn’t embrace corporatism is stifled, it feels like we’re all losing out. Violence seems inevitable at this point, and I can’t help but think that’s partially due to the fact so much of what we see and hear and experience on screens of any sort keeps pointing in that direction. We all end up thinking in similar patterns of decay because that’s all we’re shown in the dominant forms of media. It’s all just so sad, and I guess the music was bringing all that up tonight.