Chatgpt Suggests a Writing on My Ideal Day

Dua Lipa

Thanks to my lovely wife I have recently given in and accepted the fact that Chatgpt exists in the world and it aint going nowhere. It has already helped me formulate a lesson plan of the type my academic director prefers. It also answered a few questions for me though I find it no better than Google at finding old friends and classmates.

Like a lot of people who are in the latter half of their life I’m often reluctant to try new fangled innovations but unlike a lot of my peers I’m not a stubborn old mule about it. I’ve known people who had to be dragged kicking and screaming to use the internet in the late nineties (they were silly) and still others who tried to keep smartphones at a distance for too long. One has to accept that the times they are changin’ and the adoption of the latest technologies is not only sensible but to one’s benefit.

I’ve been resisting AI to the extent that I rarely read news stories or features about it and its advantages and dangers. But it’s here so there’s no point in pretending otherwise. One of the more prominent examples of AI is the aforementioned Chatgbt. To turn one’s nose up at forever is silly. I’ve stopped being silly.

Minutes ago I finished my morning tea and determined to do my morning write though I had no particular assignment to fulfill and no topic in mind. What to do? If you’ve gotten this far you’ve probably figured out that Chatgbt figures prominently in the narrative. Yes, I used the service to ask for writing prompts for myself. It gave me several and here’s the one I liked best:

Describe your ideal day in vivid detail.

Okay, so here goes….

After my morning shower and breakfast my phone rings. It is the Pulitzer Prize committee calling to inform me that I am this year’s winner in the category of literature. Within minutes I’m bombarded by calls, texts and emails from the media. The New York Times, The Guardian, BBC, MSNBC, Reuters, Time, The Washington Post and Le Monde all ask for comments.

My responses demonstrate my great humility. 

I then receive a phone call from Dua Lipa who says she’s in Berkeley and would like me to visit her at her hotel room. My wife says that whatever I do for the rest of the day is fine with her and will not be considered to be in conflict with my wedding vows.

I therefore pay Ms. Lipa a call and spend several blissful hours with her the details of which I will withhold from the rest of the world except to stay that Ms. Lipa marvels at my performance and stamina.

Next I meet my wife for lunch at San Francisco’s finest seafood restaurant. This time the hunger I sate is not of a sexual nature.

Finally I return home to do my day’s writing. I crank out five thousand words in less than ninety minutes and it is clearly the best writing I’ve ever done.

Feeling a tad guilty for my time with Dua Lipa I entice my wife into our boudoir where I entertain her in the same way I did the famed pop star.

Checking my email I discover that in recognition of my avid support for the club, Arsenal has awarded me season tickets for all home matches. Subsequently I learn that the British government has given me a flat in North London.

My entire family then gathers for dinner. I am surrounded by loved ones with whom I share stories and anecdotes and laughs.

After dinner the missus and I watch a new movie. Much to our delight it is an instant classic that we both fall in love with.

After the film I read for a couple of hours. The novel is one of my all time favorites and I develop a new appreciation for it.

I then go to bed and sleep deeply.

End of day.

I don’t know that I described an ideal day but it certainly would do.

I’d like to thank Chatgbt for the suggestion and I hope I passed the audition*

*Beatles reference

This Was Supposed to be About Notorious But Who Has the Time -- It Seems I Did

Okay so I really wanted to crank out a blog post today and if you’re reading this and it’s dated June 2, 2025 then I guess I did though it’s not what I’d intended. Before I go on let me address the fact that it’s in some ways rather silly that I’m so punctilious about maintaining this blog and about how often I write. The fact is that no one cares. I barely do. It’s rare indeed that anyone actually reads it. There was a time when this enterprise was still in its infancy and I wrote mostly about films that it was regularly linked on IMDb and I’d get some traffic and even comments. I average about a comment — maybe two — a year now as has been the case for many years. (This blog is just over 17 years old. It’ll be graduating from high school in year. Wow!) But as I was saying I make a point — against all reason — to keep this damn thing a going concern. You’re welcome. I wanted to have a post here in the first few days of June better to maintain my pace of about seven posts a month. I managed ten last month when we were traveling because I always post during my trips as if anyone gives two shits. The problem is that I’m busy right now preparing a talk I’m giving on Saturday June 14 at the West Berkeley Public Library. It’s about when Berkeley was Finntown. I gave an abbreviated version of the talk at the Finnish Hall at a Finnish Independence Day gathering a couple of years ago. That talk was just under 20 minutes. I’m supposed to ramble on for close to an hour at the library gig. To those who are even worse at math than I am that’s three times as long. Therefore I’ve had to do a lot of research then piece it all together. Not so easy and it’s consuming my “writing time.” I don't even have time to work on one of my many unpublished novels. 

So now I’m writing this about how I don’t have time to write this very post or anything else because of the speech. Existential. I’d started to write about the Alfred Hitchcock film, Notorious which I watched yesterday. I’ve written about the picture before as it’s well worth writing about. Here’s as far as I got: "He just walks her down the stairs. Yes, he supposedly has a gun in his pocket but there’s no daring escape, no shooting, no karate chops. Damn if he doesn’t just take her and leave, daring the villains to intercede. It’s the closing scene, the climax and it’s bloody brilliant. Not just a little bit nerve-wracking but audacious both in what it shows and that the screenwriter and director made that choice. You make Notorious today and there’s a goddamned blood-spattered shoot out at the end with bodies everywhere. Notorious is a spy film without a single visible weapon. It’s a fascinating film on so many different levels. One is the relationship between co-stars Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. It’s passionate, it’s tortured. Grant’s Devlin...."

As you can see it would have been interesting. Maybe I’ll get around to finishing it someday soon. Maybe not. Ya never know.

You may be wondering — as I have — why I’m putting some much time and energy into a talk at the library that may only draw five people (I don’t know, maybe I’ll get thirty. Like I said in the previous paragraph, ya never know). First of all they asked me and I said yes. I didn’t see anyway in the world that I could say no. Do I really need to explain that? It just seemed like something that was pretty straight forward. Someone asks you to do something and you’re one of a few people who could do it — hell, maybe you’re the only person who could do it — you oblige them. Especially when you think you can do it well. Also they’re paying me for it and it’s a pretty tidy sum for a one-hour talk though given how much work I have to put into it they’re getting me cheap.

It’ll go well, people who attend will be happy with it and I’ll feel good when it’s over. It’s like a friend of mine said when people asked him why he ran: “because it feels so good when I stop.” So, yeah, it’ll feel good when I finish.

(Then again I could bomb, feel terrible and the library might feel ill-used. Ya never know.)

Hey looky here I wrote close to 800 words. That’s legitimate blog post numbers and then some. Mission accomplished.

Blog post cranked out. Now if I could just find someone to read the damn thing....

The Blogger Expounds on Writing, Words, Memories and the English Town of Shrewsbury

Cybill Shepherd around the time I "remember" us being in a relationship 

Writing is a release. It lets out things you’ve been keeping bottled up. It’s also a great means of self-discovery. When it’s really flowing you end up revealing things about yourself that you didn’t realize were there.

They come out. Some good. Some not. Some words are just that, but others have meaning behind them sometimes beyond what you can grasp. Our minds can be limited in what they perceive the first time you try to understand something. But they also can unlock worlds.

Brains are funny things. Great tricksters they are at times. Our memories are/can be faulty. It’s said that when we think about something in our past we remember our last memory of it and not the incident itself. I suppose that’s different if you hadn’t thought of something since it happened. It’s best not to put complete trust in our memories. For example maybe my memories of making love to Cybill Shepherd in the mid 1970s are faulty. Maybe it wasn’t a daily event for several months. Could it even be that it never happened? Similarly are my memories of  sexual encounters with Linda Ronstadt in 1973 based in reality? Or Stevie Nicks in 1972? Diane Keaton in 1979? Then there was Lola Falana in the late Sixties. And in the 1980s I had an on and off thing with Heather Locklear -- if memory serves.

I’ve digressed as I’m want to do. Writing is like that. Either you have a laser like focus or you meander and when the latter you can't trust where you might go. But as long as it’s somewhere it is — as they used to say — all good. I guess some people still say “all good.” Do people say “mad respect” anymore? Did they ever? I’ve wrote before about how I miss “funky” and “jive turkey.” Bring those back. “Right on” and “power to the people” left us too soon. Groovy was around just as long as it need to be. Same with “far out.” Both very much of their time. When I was kid things we liked were “boss” or “keen.” You know what’s always been around (not literally always, but since the late 1920s) is “cool.” And I mean in it’s present form. Although now we also use it for “are we cool?” Like is everything okay between us or do you now understand what I was saying.

I remember about ten years ago two of my colleagues were using “cute” for something that would be normally be called “wonderful” “really nice” or “terrific.” I didn’t approve of this and was grateful that it never caught on. But just the other day another colleague used it but was called out by another. Let’s keep “cute” where it belongs: describing puppies, toddlers and girl’s haircuts. Thanks.

The British have more interesting expressions than Americans. We say “thanks.” They do to, but they also say “cheers” and the informal, “ta.” Three ways as opposed to our one. I also like things being “a bit of a muddle.” In sports we say a team has won six in a row or six consecutive games. The Brits say those to, by they also say “six on the bounce,” “six on the trot” and “six on the spin.” Three extra ways of saying it. British sports announcers put their American counterparts to shame.

An American: “and we’re tied!” British: ‘the two sides are back on level terms.” American: “he’s hot right now!” British: “he’s very much the man in form.” 

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day. I’ve never understood the day’s popularity aside as for an excuse for amateur drinkers to get plastered. You’re expected to wear green. Why? I’m not Irish. Most people aren’t. Are we really honoring Irish culture? Don’t think so. March 16th was Saint Urho’s Day. I didn’t insist that anyone wear blue and white or drink blue beer. It’s a silly holiday — just like Saint Paddy’s day. 

I thought I was finished writing but then I thought: what will happen if I start another sentence? Let’s see where it leads and here we are with no place to go and plenty of time to do it. Empty space being filled by words strung together. Like the time I got on the wrong train as I was going from London to Wales and ended up in Shrewsbury. That’s where I realized my mistake and got off the train. For some reason I held my error against Shrewsbury and have always rooted against their football team. Looking it up as I just did I discover that it’s not a bad looking town (I only saw it at night). In the West Midlands. Has a rich history, is by a river and hosts a two-day flower show and the annual Shrewsbury Folk Festival. Then there’s this: “The Old Market Hall cinema opened in 2004 in the prominent Tudor market hall positioned in The Square. The independent cinema features daily screens of films from around the world along with a cafe and bar.” Sounds worth a visit. As for that footie team that I referenced, Shrewsbury Town have never played in the top flight of English football nor have they ever had a as many as 20,000 fans at any home match. Not a glorious history but they’ve pulled a few upsets over the years and had a few players who went on to stardom — elsewhere. 

So how’d I get to Shrewsbury? (Funny answer: by train.) It’s what happens when you have no direction. What’s the old saying? Something like: if you don’t know where you’re going you’ll end up somewhere else. 

That’s for sure.

Excesses in Writing and Speech, Euphemisms and Word Order Are All Tackled in this Delightful Post

What do you write when you don’t know what to write? What do you do when you don’t know what to do? Where do you go when you don’t know where to go? What do you think when you don’t know what to think?

Such questions are puzzling me now.

I would have been well within my rights to write “such questions are puzzling me at this moment in time.” To most readers (I flatter myself that there are any) that would be perfectly fine and many would think it more eloquent. But is it necessary? Why the five words of “at this moment in time” when the simple single word “now” suffices?

I’ll “take the matter into consideration.” Or "think about it.”

We do love to slap on extra words — often long ones — in an effort to sound erudite. Raymond Chandler, Ernest Hemingway — to name but two esteemed writers — didn’t waste words. Each was precious and they saw no need for clutter.

In addition to excessive verbiage I’m also bothered by euphemisms, a curse of modern society. Classic examples include “passed away” and “we lost” in lieu of died. Some people can't even manage “passed away” and simply say that Aunt Martha “passed.” The question is did she pass gas or pass away? Perhaps she’s now a quarterback and passed the football. Lost is worse for me. If “we lost our Aunt Martha” the inevitable question is: are you still looking for her?

In most countries people “go to the toilet.” In the US that’s far too graphic and we go to the bathroom or restroom though no bathing or resting are about to happen. 

I can’t recall where this happened but shortly after a lengthy stay in the UK I was back in the states and told someone I had to go to the toilet. By the look on their face you’d have thought I’d gone to the toilet right in front of them. Thereafter I made a point to say restroom. You simply don't want to offend delicate sensibilities. 

Society has become sensitive to the feelings of others (except of course for those in the MAGA movement whose members celebrate their indifference to the suffering of others). This is well and good. (Why do we say “well and good”? Isn’t saying “good” enough?) Sometimes there’s overreach. Referring to someone as “fat” seems cruel but do we have to replace it with “big boned?”  Is overweight so bad? Hearing impaired and sight impaired have replaced deaf and blind and I can’t imagine why. Unhoused for homeless seems bloody ridiculous.

Ever been running a little behind partially because you’re under the weather and you spaced out on the meeting? Or are you late because you’re sick  and you forgot the meeting? Be careful because they might “let you go” which isn’t nearly as bad as being fired. Maybe you prefer being made redundant. 

It would appear that I’m addressing the question posited at the beginning of this writing which was about what to write when you don’t know what to write. The answer is: anything. I suppose something is also a good answer. It may depend on whether you prefer something or anything. Could be related to whether you prefer somewhere to anywhere. Somewhere is a place though we don’t know where. Anywhere is any place and again we don’t know where. Just like somebody is an unknown person while anybody is any unknown person. Somebody sounds more specific. But barely.

I’m going to change the subject….

Every time you call any kind of physician's office for any reason you’re told that if this is a medical emergency you should hang up and dial 9-1-1. What do they think we are, a bunch of idiots? I’ve heard this when calling a psychiatrist’s office, dermatologist’s office and my GP. Do they really think that someone who’s having a heart attack or was just hit by a truck is going to call their dermatologist? Maybe it’s happened. We always have to account for morons.

By the way, last week I had my annual physical — nope, I’m sorry, it was a wellness check. Puhleeeze. I did not go see a physician, I saw my health care provider. Enough already. 

I saw this the other day: “we are sadly going to have to say goodbye to….” Why do they have to do it sadly? Or is this a case in which they should have written: “sadly, we are going to have say goodbye to….” Which suggests that it a sad occasion and not that they have to write “sadly.”

I’m glad I could be of help.

I Somehow Run Afoul of "The Blogger Team" and a Post is Censored

Can you see this post? My last one, from September 2, is currently unavailable to readers. 

A history: On Monday I celebrated Labor Day by putting up a post which was comprised solely of questions. I have done this before.

Here’s a sampling: 

Do people who work tirelessly really never get tired?

If an email reminder doesn’t specify that it is a “friendly reminder” are we to assume it’s a hostile reminder?

Do you think fish ever feel like toweling off?

Later that day I received an email from “the blogger team” telling me that my post violated their community guidelines and that there would be a warning in lieu of my post that indicated the post included “sensitive content.” Readers could clink on a link and view the post at their own peril.

I was stunned.

In my sixteen and half years blogging I’d never seen this before and here it was for such a benign, silly post. I quickly determined that “the blogger team” was probably offended by a single word. Obviously I can’t use it hear lest this post be similarly flagged. The word is the technical term for the performance of oral sex on a woman. It begins with a “c” and ends with a “us.” It is not in the slightest bit offensive nor had I used it in an offensive manner. The question in which it was used was: “Does it bother anyone else that cumulus cloud sounds a lot like c———-us cloud?”

It was not an issue worth fighting over so I removed the question. Magically my post appeared for all the world to see.

But today “the summary is not available” is there again and again one must click a link to view the post. Clicking the link takes you to a page titled “sensitive content warning” and you have to click “I understand and I wish to continue” in order to view the post. That link does not work. At the risk of being obvious that means the post is not available for viewing despite the fact that it most certainly worthy of a PG, if not a G rating. (NOTE: On 9/8 I finally removed the original post and re-posted minus the "nasty word.")

Censorship!

What’s particularly odd about this is that less than a month ago I posted a short story called “Sexual Lessons From the Revolutions, The Sarah Levin Affair” that as one might guess included very clear references to the sexual act. That was fine. “The blogger team" didn’t utter a peep. It's also been fine when  I've used all manner of profanity including words beginning with f and sh.(Don't pretend you don't know what I mean.) But evidently the technical and by no means lewd term for a particular act was deemed inappropriate for the three-year-olds who read my blog.

Weird.

I don’t know if my post with questions is lost to the world or if it will ever return for viewing and I don’t know why it went away after having passed muster. I don’t know if some conservative group has taken over “the blogger team” or there was a glitch in the system or someone’s messing with me or this is all a dream and the alarm will go off soon. Maybe it wasn't that word at all, but if not, then what? Perhaps more will be revealed. If so I’ll keep you posted.

Below is the email “the blogger team sent me.” Make of it what you will. (I think they’ve gone screwy.)

Hello,

     As you may know, our Community Guidelines  

(https://blogger.com/go/contentpolicy) describe the boundaries for what we  

allow-- and don't allow-- on Blogger. Your post titled "Do I Have More  

Questions? Yes I Do and Here They Are" was flagged to us for review. This  

post was put behind a warning for readers because it contains sensitive  

content; the post is visible at  

http://rikuwrites.blogspot.com/2024/09/do-i-have-more-questions-yes-i-do-and.html.  

Your blog readers must acknowledge the warning before being able to read  

the post/blog.

     We apply warning messages to posts that contain sensitive content. If  

you are interested in having the status reviewed, please update the content  

to adhere to Blogger's Community Guidelines. Once the content is updated,  

you may republish it at  

https://www.blogger.com/go/appeal-post?blogId=7539700916676246998&postId=889195564570218448.  

This will trigger a review of the post. You may have the option to pursue  

your claims in court. If you have legal questions or wish to examine legal  

options that may be available to you, you may want to consult with your own  

legal counsel.

     For more information, please review the following resources:

     Terms of Service: https://www.blogger.com/go/terms

     Blogger Community Guidelines: https://blogger.com/go/contentpolicy

     Sincerely,

     The Blogger Team