Let’s See AI Blow Its Nose
- Halloran Parry
- 16 hours ago
- 4 min read
Upcoming Events
First Friday at Manna Gallery
My work is hanging at Manna Gallery until December 13, and I’ll be celebrating First Friday in person.
Friday, Dec 5, 5-8 pm
473 25th St
Oakland CA 94612
Sat-Sun
Dec 6-7, 11 am-5 pm
2908 Chapman St
Oakland, CA 94601
Let’s See AI Blow Its Nose
I've been thinking a lot about how humans matter, and how sick I am of AI slop. Humanity is glorious in all its gritty, wonderful detail. Every time I leave the house I look for little human moments. As a for-instance, I caught two of my neighbors, who have both been adopted by the same cat, negotiating the ins and outs of coparenting an outdoor pet. “Have you been giving her worm meds? Because I have and I want to make sure we’re not double-dosing her, but she does have worms.” I’m pretty sure these two people hadn’t met before this conversation.
Those are the moments you get to have if you let yourself, if you go out into the world and look for them. You'll never get them behind a screen.
Recently, I’ve been viewing the human experience through the lens of suffering, which is to say I caught a cold and got melodramatic about it.
I think colds are our shared religion. A garden-variety sinus infection will have even the staunchest nonbelievers starting to feel a bit mystical about the divine properties of the medicine cabinet.
And we all know, deep in our hearts, no matter what the science says, that our mix of vitamins and tonics and chants will clear up the cold faster. I put it to you that, in this fractured and disconnected cultural moment we’re in, folk remedies for colds are the closest thing we have to a universal faith. And everyone prays a little bit differently.
Now in my house, we worship spicy. I believe in the power of fire and brimstone and capsaicin levels that mandate warning labels. So when I come down with something, I have a whole song and dance that I go through.
First, I don the sacred vestments (my fuzzy bathrobe, my fuzzy slippers, and something to keep my hair out of my face).
Thus adorned, I beseech the universe.
“Hail to the almighty chili spirit, divine source of spice, equalizer of all men, protector of bird seed. We come to you in sickness and we seek your guidance on this, the fourth day of the plague of mucus.”
And the chili god answers and the answer is always the same: burn it. Burn it all.
Having received divine instruction, I perform the ritual of fire, otherwise known as Korean spicy chicken ramen, hot enough to melt your face off. It proceeds as follows.
The ritual cauldron is filled with Tears of Cleansing (I fill a pot with tap water).
It is then placed over the Divine Flame (brought to you by your local gas company).
The sacrifice is prepared according to the ancient lore (I boil the noodles like it says on the packet).
To this, the mighty god Capsicum confers his essence, and the supplicant, in reverence and in fear, receives his blessing. (I measure out precisely ONE THIRD of the sauce packet. And then I take a DEEP BREATH and say a silent prayer to all the other gods I don’t believe in to help me survive this because this is about to hurt. A lot.)
The communion with the god shall not be observed.
I can’t tell you what happens at this point because as soon as I take my first bite of noodles, I’m in so much pain my vision goes black. But an hour later, my eyes will clear, the noodles will be gone, and circumstantial evidence will suggest that I have just purged enough gunk out of my sinuses to singlehandedly solve California’s drought problem.
In chili’s name we pray, amen.
---
As you might have guessed, I wrote this through a haze of decongestants and dirty kleenex. I’m better now, and I’ve been thinking about humanity a lot lately. It would be nice if the common cold was the biggest problem we humans suffer, but it’s not.
From now through December 31, 2025, I will be donating 5% of all my sales to the Alameda Food Bank. And if you stop by 2908 Chapman during East Bay Open Studios this year, my fellow artists will be doing the same.
In conclusion, AI slop is terrible, and you should come see some real art, made by real people. And maybe you should swap cold remedies with strangers, just for the humanity of it all.
[Post Script: My editor, upon reading through this draft, told me about “Dragon’s Piss Tea”, which is some sort of cold remedy involving ginger and chili pepper that I’ve never heard of. In the spirit of this post, I may make a batch to serve at Open Studios.]
If you’ve been following this art journey for the last few months and you’ll be in the SF Bay Area the first weekend in December, you should stop by my studio during Open Studios. You’ll see everything I just created for IX, as well as all the false starts and messy sketches I did in order to get to this point.
Korean Spicy Chicken Buldak Noodles (proceed at your own risk)
Like what you just read? Sign up for my mailing list to get every blog entry straight to your inbox. Scroll down to the bottom of this page.
Comments