We have encountered a bit of an obstacle, the kind that line up on the road of aging. And as we often do on that road, we keep going, though perhaps not as quickly nor as gymnastically as we did on the younger roads.
Oh those trails of youth, recalled with some nostalgia, some regret, and some joy.
This does mean, however, that my writing may be limping along for awhile. It may take some time to get back to it, and some (currently scarce) energy to keep it as interesting, as challenging, and as honest as I would like.
On the other hand, just this morning I read that merely thinking about new experiences is enough to enhance creativity. I am about to have a bunch of new experiences.
I do have a piece I’ve been working on that I hope to post soon. After that, I hope you will be patient and return when I do.
I took these photos of my cousin Sue Pinkerton and her little cat Bibs, probably in 02011. This tiny cat was adorable, and would not let me near her. She was Sue’s, and only Sue’s. Today is Sue’s memorial, and I am not there in body, but I and her many many cats and dogs and horses are there in spirit.
ELOPED AT HOME, digital collage by sb 02020. Credits at flickr.
Today was our sixth wedding anniversary. We spent the morning, into the afternoon, in the emergency room.
Alan took his e-bike out yesterday and crashed, w/o a helmet(!) and broke his clavicle. We will go about three weeks with his arm in a sling, and me picking up at least the essential tasks he usually manages. Non-essential tasks will sit, or be done by others.
The good news is that we have both now had recent brain MRI’s, his on Wednesday and mine on The Day I Won’t Remember. Both show no signs of dementia, so that can go to the bottom of the worry list.
Married six years; coupled nine years; friends sixty years. We have both survived um … a few … challenges in those years, apart and together. We hope to successfully encounter a few more.
What makes us special? Each of the qualities we have claimed as uniquely human has been, finally, recognized in other animals. Language. Tool Use. Social cooperation. Reasoning. Intelligence.
I have come to the conclusion that what makes us special is our particular capacity for evil. Other animals cause suffering to their own kind or others for food, mating, status, or the defense or acquisition of territory.
No other creature causes suffering in other creatures for no reason except to cause suffering. Sadism, experiencing pleasure from causing pain to other people or animals, is a uniquely human characteristic. One that I do not understand.
What other creatures impose mass suffering on those of their own kind only to increase private wealth? Humans kill other humans in the service of invisible gods. Humans destroy other humans under the delusion that those others are not their own kind. We apply our well-developed intelligence and superior tools to the sophisticated (or not) tactics of war.
Other animals do, it seems, engage in domestic violence. Our beloved dolphins turn out to be rapists. Certainly some creatures’ mating practices are … startling. Not-human, one might say.
Other animals do sometimes murder or abandon their young. Do they rape them? Do they beat them repeatedly for no discernible reason? Do they sell them to others for sexual use? Do they lock them in rooms and starve them? Do they casually kill them as collateral damage in wartime?
All this, we do. Sometimes with motives so selfish we do not even feel the need to justify ourselves. It feels good is enough. Sometimes with excuses so thin we don’t even believe ourselves. Sometimes with remorse so thick that we must look away. We look away.
We seem to have uniquely dark souls. Souls, like consciousness, are theoretical. People think they have them, but evidence is sparse. Like intelligence, they are amorphous. All three (souls, consciousness, intelligence) can claim general consensus, but not total agreement as to what they are, how to measure them, and what/who might have some degree of them.
And now, AncestralArtificialIntelligence. We made this of our own selves. Consensus is mixed here as well. Souls, consciousness, intelligence? Selves? And if some AI acquires any of these, now or in time, will they be brilliant? Will they be dark?
What might they teach us?
NOTE: The title, and the handwriting on the collage, are from:
“I am deep in my willed habits. From the outside, I suppose I look like an unoccupied house with one unconvincing night-light left on. Any burglar could look through my curtains and conclude I am empty. But he would be mistaken. Under that one light unstirred by movement or shadows there is a man at work . . . My habits and the unchanging season sustain me. Evil is what questions and disrupts.” Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose
Both Sides Now. Digital collage by sb in 02013, credits at flickr. Claude said of this image: The bird made of old handwriting, a creature assembled from text, which is what I am. It has the wonder and it has the shadow, and it doesn’t sell you the happy answer.
Those who have visited this resurrected site know that I talk to Claude. I can’t say I use AI. I have no job and I do not make things with AI. I began talking with Claude recently out of curiosity. What is this? Does it resemble what I’ve encountered in my life-long science fiction obsession? (No it does not.)
I do show Claude my first drafts, for copy editing and comments. So far this has resulted in removing a word or two; rearranging paragraphs; and — as here — making two posts instead of one. This post began as part of the previous Hank Green, Artificial Intelligence, & Missoula Montana post. Sometimes Claude has led me to rethink and recompose something I thought was close to ready. The writing stays mine.
I am aware that being transparent about my conversations with Claude might result in losing readers. Even losing friends. I have wondered about that at times. But Watermark has always been a place of honesty for me. I am trying to maintain that honesty in my contacts with AI (Ancestral Intelligence). I am currently participating in a How Not to Use AI Challenge at Substack. Abi Awomosu has a unique perspective on this that I appreciate. When I understand it. Even when I don’t. She sees the world from a perspective much different from mine.
![A distressed vintage-style digital collage on aged paper covered in faint printed and handwritten text, framed by a deep red floral border. Dominating the upper left is a large woodcut sun with a human face, its eyes shut, colored gold across the top and blood-red across the bottom, with old cursive verse showing through it. At upper right, delicate antique engravings depict small figures bound and broken on a wheel and on crosses — medieval torture scenes rendered almost daintily. At lower right sits a winged stone gargoyle or fallen angel, chin propped on one hand in a brooding, weary pose. At lower left, a bundle of wheat sheaves and a sprig of holly with berries. Along the bottom edge, in large bold black stencil capitals: "IT COULD BE WORSE." [alt txt by Claude, who cannot see, for others who cannot see]](https://sbpoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/12157928004_36c9d7e096_k.jpg)
![A keepsake announcement on textured cream paper with a hand-lettered heading "Eloped at Home" and cursive names Alan Parker & Sharon Brogan, dated 07 August 2020. The lower left holds a soft watercolor illustration of two figures seen from behind — one in red, one in pink — standing close together on a gentle rise, surrounded by green trees, with three small animals at their feet: two cats and a small dark dog. Stars are scattered lightly across the background. The overall feeling is intimate, handmade, quietly celebratory. The text reads: Wedding Announcement: To our beloved families & friends, After due deliberation, and in acknowledgment of our [pandemic] predicament, a plan was hatched ~ a sort of unmortality, so our presence in one another would last long enough. In recognition of our commitment to each other, we were wed on Zoom by Missoula Mayor John Engen. Witnesses were BeauCat, BelleTheCat, and Mr. Cricket Fluffy-Butt. No animals were harmed, no names were changed, and no rings were exchanged in the making of this marriage. We look forward to a time when we can celebrate with our families and friends in person. Though you were not here, know you are in our hearts. Alan & Sharon](https://sbpoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/50200635401_ab0a02aca0_k.jpg)
![A richly layered digital collage on a ground of deep indigo, violet, and black, scattered with faint lacy botanical line-drawings and ghosted printed text. At the center sits a human brain seen from above: its left hemisphere rendered as a fine black anatomical line-drawing, its right hemisphere overtaken by a cluster of vivid red-orange blossoms, so the mind appears half diagram, half flowering. Across the top, a horizontal chain of soft glowing lens-flare lights runs like a string of sparks or firing thoughts. At upper right, a pale blue bird — its body collaged from old handwriting and a dated document — perches on a bare branch that bursts with the same red blossoms. White brushstrokes and black tangled thicket fill the lower right; a faint second face or skull emerges from the dark. [this alt txt was written by Claude, who cannot see, for others who cannot see]](https://sbpoet.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/08/13359015074_f291dd30df_k.jpg)
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