workflow

The Chool Bus (preface):

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes: In the years of our lord 2024-25 the Loopcircus blog roared along with consistent weekly glimpses into our “Hot Springs or Busk (HSoB)” travels. This was a settled workflow, quite manageable, rendering weekly 4-10 minute posts and illustrative graphics (thanks to various AI image generation tools). The posts were accompanied by audio versions of the text in narrative podcast form. Presently, a few developments have altered our expectations post-HSoB. 1.) Since we have a perfectly serviceable set of vocal folds, we can’t continue to justify maintaining the AI voice-track crutch. 2.) The current creative focus is thus: Instead of brief snapshots of various topics, we’re aiming to create a long-form narrative, eventually cobbled together in novel form (audio & print). And 3.) We’ve shifted gears in our travels, where the original goal was to visit each of the 48 contiguous United States, a blog post for each (several for Florida… of course). And now, we’re letting a bit of moss grow under our feet, making travel decisions determined by favorable Van-Life weather.

And so, we’re currently approaching week #4 with the new project, and we’re finding those aimless moments of formless drifting, some call it “writer’s block” where, at the end of what could have been a productive day, we reflect with a bit of slothful guilt that nothing of consequence had been produced. This is anathema to your typical Type-A personality, no matter HOW retired i think i am. So, this morning, it hit me. In those heady days when we had a weekly publish deadlines (a mere four weeks ago), things got done. In fact we were able to work so far ahead of deadlines to be three to six weeks ahead of publishing targets. Of course, this provides more time for reflection and review, and that’s a good thing as it’s hard to catch mechanical errors when the work is rushed. Anyway, we decided to roll this narrative out as a Loopcircus serial. Many fine works got their public introduction thusly. Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray comes to mind, among others, Twain, Dickens, Dumas, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Joyce, etc..

So, we’ll get back to weekly postings with an eye toward minimizing the use of artificial intelligence tools. Starting with the voice tracks. We’ve decided to fall back to tracking my own voice for the audio supplements… AI will be removed from the workflow in that regard. That said, my graphics talent is right up there with Kurt Vonnegut’s (if you know, you know). So, we’ll continue to enlist a robot’s assistance for the weekly post’s “featured images”. We’ll engage a human artist should the finished product ever make it to professional publication.

And now… without further adieu… a brief introduction:
In this story, the eminent and amiable Professor Mork Thompson (Professor T.) and his bandmates, known as “The Forks” in their youthful heyday… wander around United States of America indulging a preternatural interest in human nature. This shared interest inspires a question which eventually earns Professor T. a lucrative research grant. Early on, Professor T. recruits a young cowboy and recent graduate of the University of Wyoming for research assistance and aid de camp. Buck Wellstone, whose unhurried country gentility and forthright attitude adds contrast to the sometimes naive and uptight countenance of the former grunge guitar flogger/songsinger, Mork Thompson. On the back roads and freeways of this vast nation, The Forks bear witness to many sometimes perilous, sometimes awkward, sometimes comic adventures that culminate with resolution in a nagging, ongoing inquest/lawsuit concerning Professor T.’s alleged Title IX violations brought by his long-time administrative assistant.

Okay… back to the weekly posts, back to appeasing the Type-A gods. Please join us checking in on the adventures and misadventures of Mork T. and the Forks as they make their way around our precariously vacillating experiment in pluralistic democracy, searching for “the fibrillating heart of our divided nation”.

May whatever you call the infinite mystery of existence swoop in and help us all.

Onward through the fog… Rohlfie

Chapter 01: Professor Thompson’s Roadtrip Sabbatical
Chapter 02: Billie Schmidt and the “Chool Bus”
Chapter 03: Jack Dean makes paranoia a viable career path
Chapter 04: The Forks embark, and Professor T. learns the perceived value of privacy in a “social media” world.

Below the Earth – Above the Sun: The Bionic Blogger

A few days ago, i stumbled upon a digital mirage, a phantasmagoria of AI-generated imagery that sent shivers down my spine (see below). These spectral apparitions, purportedly depict John Prine and Bonnie Raitt together at a 1970 folk music festival. As you can see from the real 1970s image, the AI version is nowhere near accurate. This is a stark reminder of the rapid adoption of artificial intelligence creating “deep fakes” designed to alter history. At first glance, the images were mildly compelling because they kept appearing in my news feed. And as we know from real, even recent history, a lie repeated enough times can take hold in the public’s imagination, eventually seen as truth. Yet, a closer inspection of this particular deep fake reveals a grotesque parody of reality.

Bonny Raitt & John Prine — AI Abomination

Now, i’ve long been a devotee of digital tools, embracing their potential to enhance my creative process. In fact, before the COVID/RONA pandemic, i considered myself an optimistic “5th Estate Evangelist”. From cloud service audio mastering, to grammar checkers, and voiceover generation using my own voice as a model, AI has become an indispensable part of my workflow. And now, with the exponential improvement of AI-generated imagery, i venture further into this brave new world. But the specter of inauthenticity looms large, casting a shadow over the application of these powers.

It’s a strange paradox, this symbiotic relationship between human and machine. We rely on AI to augment our abilities, to extend our reach, to expedite our tasks. Yet, we risk the atrophication of our native creativity, in the process, becoming mere conduits for the algorithmic output of distant server farms simulating the creative power of their human users.

The abovementioned deep-fake creepfest is a reminder; as we navigate this increasingly complex digital terrain, we must remain vigilant. We must not allow ourselves to be seduced by the siren song of technological disassociation. We must cultivate critical eyes, ears, discerning minds, and a heapin’ helpin’ of skepticism.

In the end, it’s the human touch that gives psychosocial relevance to our work. It is the cultural perspective, the emotional depth, the idiosyncratic style that sets us apart from non-human forms of sentience (animal or machine). Let us not sacrifice true human qualities on the altar of efficiency. Let us embrace the imperfections, the quirks, the idiosyncrasies that come with messy humanity. We should do everything we can to see AI as no more or less than a collection of tools available to help us reach our own creative potential in faster, more evocative ways.

And so, i shall continue to tread a cautious path, balancing the allure of AI with the enduring force of my uniquely creative impulses. I will strive to create material that is emotionally evocative, informative, inspiring, engaging, and thought-provoking. In addition, i will strive to maintain authenticity, a connection to my unique synergy with the real world.

Onward through the fog… Ron, Rohlfie, and Ronnie Hays

This Land: Ohio

ED Comment: Dear Loopers, let's talk about this AI revolution. Everyone's up in arms about robots stealing our jobs, but truth told, it's not ALL bad. We at loopcircus, we're using this AI stuff like a painter uses a brush, you know? It's a tool, not a replacement. Sure, we messed up Ohio and Iowa, but hey, that's just human error. We're not some soulless machines cranking out stories like a factory. We're still here, flesh and blood, trying to make sense of this crazy world. And if that means confusing cornfields with buckeyes? Well, that's just the price you pay for being a human in the digital age. 

Cheers... Loopcircus

Anyway, Ohio, sprawls across the American midsection like a contented hippopotamus. It’s a place where the sky is often as vast and indifferent as the soul of a Midwestern farmer, and where the earth is a rich, loamy tapestry, perfect for growing corn and disillusionment.

Hot springs? You’re kidding, right? This is Ohio, not Iceland. We’ve got hot flashes in July and frozen toes in January, but hot springs? No… not here.

Colleges? Ohio is littered with them, like fallen leaves in autumn. There’s Oberlin, a place where young people learn to play their chosen instruments and protest injustice with equal fervor. Then there’s Ohio State, a behemoth of higher education, where they churn out lawyers, doctors, and accountants like sausage. And don’t forget Kent State, a place where history was made, or rather, unmade.

Cultural landmarks? Well, after being upstaged by Rock n Roll’s Hall of Fame, there’s The Works at Newark, a place where they used to turn sand into dollar bills and now they turn sand into glass. It’s like alchemy, but with less magic and more pottery. And then there’s Victorian Village, a quaint little dollhouse of a neighborhood where time seems to have paused, like a stuck record on a dusty gramophone. All of this and much much more. After all, Cleveland does indeed, rock.

Ohioans are a singular breed. They’re as tough as a worn-out plow and as friendly as a puppy. They’ll share their last beer with you, but don’t expect them to beat around the bush. They call ‘em like they see ‘em, these folks. The weather? A fickle mistress. The economy? A roller coaster without the safety bars. And the brain drain? Well, let’s just say some of Ohio’s brightest bulbs prefer the cosmopolitan coasts.

Cuyahoga Valley National Park is Ohio’s piece of nature’s playground, a patch of green in a sea of cornfields. It’s very pretty, for sure… trees and rocks and the sound of silence.

Famous Ohioans? Presidents, inventors, and comedians. A real mixed bag. Edison, the man who brought us light, also brought us the electric chair… a true Ohioan.

The state runs on a three-legged stool: manufacturing, agriculture, and healthcare. It’s a sturdy foundation, but sometimes it feels like the whole thing is about to tip over.

As for everyday life? Ohio is a place where you can buy a house for the price of a parking spot in New York City. The jobs are there, if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty. And while it may not be Paris, there’s a certain charm to watching the seasons change, and knowing that your neighbors will shovel your walk when you’re snowed in with a case of the RONA.

The drive from Medina to Kent, was a pleasure, but this was a pilgrimage of sorts. Ronnie felt obligated to stand on the ground where four students died in the cause of ending the Vietnam war. This event holds special significance for Ronnie as he was just waking up to the world, and it was not an encouraging sight. He was 10 years old in 1970, and the adult world appeared to be a super-hostile place. In the end, Mr. Nixon paid a political price and the US withdrew military forces from the Republic of Viet Nam before Ronnie’s actual entrance into the adult world. But he witnessed all of this on his family’s TV screen each night at the dinner hour, and the scars are still visible.

So… the pilgrimage is complete, and Ronnie leaves this soul-work nugget behind. Ohio… not the Ohio of hillbilly heartbreaks and Rust Belt blues, but the Ohio first flights and moonshots, the Ohio of young lives cut short. A place where humans learned to fly, where Rock and Roll history highlights the power of youthful energy and Kent State reminds us of the limits of that energy when colliding with the blunt force of authority. Ohio… the best and worst of humanity. But always… pure Americana.

From Rockin’ Cleveland…
To Cincinnati…
Your home Ohio…
Aviation alley…
You got Neal Armstrong…
You got Cuyahoga Falls…
Something on tap for everyone.