Gasping Breath in the Middle of the Night

Hello there, dear courteous readers! Glad to meet you again on this archaic vessel. Uh, it has been a disconcerting five months on the ocean and it aptly prompts me to wake up in the middle of the night. Gasping for breath—not literally, of course. I think Maslow was right: “A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.”

I originally intend this post to be about the impact of artificial intelligence on our not-so-distant future (this draft was entitled ‘On the Impending Approach of Singularity’), BUT… but I am not up to the challenge. Ideas are floating by each day but, quite frustratingly, nothing can be written down. Every night this humble sailor of yours come back exhausted to his cabin, unable to jot down even the tiniest amount of ink.

I don’t know.

So greetings, dear reader, from your encased sailor.

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