
Today I walked halfway to Crepeville before Kate picked me up for brunch. Afterward, she dropped me off a mile and a half from home so she could rush to jury duty, and I walked the rest of the way back through another clear California morning. I owe these long walks much of my health. They pull me out of the mediated world of screens and back into physical space: trees shifting in the wind, the morning sun still gentle at the end of April, the rhythm of my own footsteps, a rusted bicycle leaning against a sycamore, the feeling that my mind can finally stretch out a little.
I often choose California’s weather over the pull of screens, especially as recent surveys suggest we Americans stare at screens for about seven hours a day. Over breakfast, Kate said that the numbers might be skewed by all the people who are scrolling past social media posts while watching TV. Still a fan of technological innovation, I nevertheless remain concerned about what happens when convenience replaces attention, contemplation, and the slow labor of making meaning.
When we go to an orchestral performance, a rally by the ocean, a Poetry Night performance, or an outdoor farmers market, we remind ourselves how lucky we are to live here, even when reasons for optimism feel scarce.
The cognitive offloading that accompanies many people’s uses of generative AI runs the risk of making us feel even more disembodied. Not merely intellectual, human insight also emerges through embodied experience: moving through physical space, reading faces, hearing the intake of breath before a point is made, enduring silence, physically writing in a journal, and struggling against the resistant material of the world.
I could spend pages on physical engagement with beauty, but as academic director at UC Davis, I also must engage with AI, even while my heart belongs to a world built by hand, word by word, and stroke by stroke.
This internal friction I feel intensifies when I text my children. Their lives revolve around the creation of original art and narrative (my daughter an artist, my son a filmmaker), so they view this technological shift with a justified chill. I suspect that they see the vast, unconsented scraping of human effort as a theft of the soul. Like the students I teach in my Writing in Fine Arts class this quarter, my kids understand that the struggle of artistic labor generates the meaning of the work. The solo recital must be rehearsed, and fingers darken with paint or ink. Bypassing the difficulty typically requires one to bypass the growth.
I teach my students to recognize writing as our most fundamental technology for thinking, as one of the best ways to create, deepen, and share complex thoughts. Yet, my administrative duties demand that I play with these digital prisms, examining how they might reflect or distort our academic missions. As I advise students, lead instructional designers, or consider my own future creative projects, I find myself caught in a liminal space between roles, needing to understand the framework of a tool that my own community of artists and researchers largely distrusts.
With regard to AI, those of us who grew up before such tools existed possess a “curator’s advantage,” a foundation of literacy built through decades of deep reading and exacting revision of our prose. When I ask a machine to contextualize a difficult book, asking about an author’s peers or influences (such as how Blake and Whitman influence Ginsberg), I do so with a mind already filled with the echoes of other texts. When examining a piece of writing, I recognize a shallow synthesis or a blatant hallucination because I spent my life marking up paperbacks and learning how to build a sentence from the ground up.
A person who masters the craft of language views technology as a lens, whereas a person dependent on the tool views it as a source, a crutch, or even a necessity. Sometimes I worry about those generations who grow up without the friction of the blank page. Educators must always consider how to model and cultivate human creativity, seeking to ensure it remains untamed by the homogenizing influence of a predictive model.
Nietzsche wrote in Thus Spoke Zarathustra that “Man muss noch Chaos in sich haben, um einen tanzenden Stern gebären zu können” – “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.”
I plan to foster this chaos in me by staring into the eyes of my beloved, walking into a forest at dusk, or writing a poem whose wild pairings of images — a peacock feather caught in the spokes of that rusted bicycle on my morning walk — allow me to escape the confines of predictable prose. The best parts of life shouldn’t be outsourced.
What beautiful weather we are enjoying today! Come sit outside at tonight’s Pub Quiz at Sudwerk! Expect 31 questions on a variety of topics you should know something about, this week with questions on small words and small devils. Today’s pub quiz comes in at 895 words.
In addition to topics raised above and below, expect questions tonight on the following: Accessories, banknotes, behaviors, birds, dances, furniture, girls’ names, horror films, islands, minerals, muscles, Nobel Peace Prize winners, officials, Oscar-nominated actors, platinum-selling rock albums, poets, pop singers, puppets, redundancies, regimes, rivers, runners, Sacramento athletes, social media, spirits, squids, suspects, telecommunications firms, television broadcasts, toys, visionaries, wrestlers, current events, and Shakespeare.
For more Pub Quiz fun, please subscribe via Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/c/yourquizmaster.
Thanks to all the new players joining us at the live quizzes and to all the patrons who have been enjoying fresh Pub Quiz content. Certain friends have upgraded their memberships recently, which I really appreciate.
We are now past 100 Patreon members, including people who have upgraded their paid memberships! You know who you are, and I salute you! I also incidentally salute Cathy, Christine, Bobby, Esther, James, Damian, Jim, and Meebles! Thanks also to new subscribers Prescott, Bill and Diane, Tamara, Megan, Michael, Janet, Jasmine, Joey, Carly, The X-Ennial Falcons, and The Nevergiveruppers! Every week I check the Patreon to see if there is someone new to thank. Maybe next week it will be you! I also thank The Original Vincibles, Summer Brains, Still Here for the Shakesbeer, The Outside Agitators, John Poirier’s team Quizimodo, Gena Harper, the conversationally entertaining dinner companions and bakers of marvelous and healthy treats, The Mavens. Hello to Bill and to Jude’s dad. Thanks in particular to my paid subscribers on Substack. Thanks to everyone who supports the Pub Quiz on Patreon. I would love to add your name or that of your team to the list of pub quiz boosters. Also, I sometimes remember to add an extra hint on Patreon. I appreciate your backing this pub quiz project of mine!
I also want to recognize those who visit my Substack the most often, including Michael, Luna, Jean, Ron, Myrna, Maria, to whom I send sustained compassion.
Best,
Dr. Andy
- Three questions from last week: Mottos and Slogans. Known for its three-letter name, what organization and conference in 2024 changed their slogan from “Ideas Worth Spreading” to “Ideas Change Everything”?
- Internet Culture. John Ternus is replacing whom?
- Newspaper Headlines. According to a recent article in the New York Times, the new Netflix show featuring Zach Galifianakis concerns which of the following topics: gardening, jewelry, or muskets?












