Don’t let the title of this piece mislead you. Interestingly, during this morning’s routine, which is, by the grace of God, almost getting back to normal, I decided it was time to start transitioning back to my “happy place” of fun, frolic, and frivolity in my writing.
I have spent the last two and a half months working feverishly on something very important to me personally, something intended to be passed down to my children, grandchildren, and, in roughly two months, my great-grandchildren as well. Knowing full well I will never be rich or famous, I still felt compelled to do a “legacy piece” in the name of posterity.
I have written here, a number of different ways, how important listening to music in my headphones is to me as I go about the business of being a “nobody from nowhere” who finds great joy in mashing up letters and words between my fingers like a naked baby in a high chair bare-fisted and eating diced up spaghetti noodles. I have mentioned my now nearly 120-hour Spotify playlist (A Writer’s Respite), and I went looking for my most recent favorite band to help set the mental tone in my head to soothe my nerves as I once more resubmit the manuscript and book cover image after yet one more inane demand from the KDP gods.
I “get” that not everyone would appreciate this band’s music, but anytime you need a soulful, somewhat haunting, and dreamy sound bouncing around in your head, these guys certainly don’t disappoint. And I certainly needed that this morning after KDP’s AI informed me that, once more, I needed to make a change before the submission would be approved.
If you’ve never done this… It takes anywhere from 8 to 16 hours to get a response after submission, and having submitted my first attempt six days ago, I woke up this morning to yet another demand. I said to myself, “Self? Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and call up “Cigarettes After Sex” to recharge your Zen batteries and help me comply.” Relegated to the ash heap of tapping my toe and waiting, I decided it was time to write this… And thank the music gods for at least providing some degree of Solace while I await final approval before publication.
Spiritually internalizing Zac Brown, imagining my toes in the water and my ass in the sand, I’m reminded- my grandmother whispering in my ear that patience is a virtue- that, as it is when you are arguing with somebody on the other side of the glass at the DMV, no amount of begging or pleading on God’s green earth with a robot is ever going to go your way. I will never understand how the inventors of this technology convinced themselves this fucking AI nonsense was ever going to improve the quality of anyone’s life but their own, but as my tattoo says… It is what it is. Since it is not “technically” murder if you submerge a robot in saltwater, is it wrong of me to wish I could put my hands on one of them?
