Dipika Kohli
By Dipika Kohli
Tickets are booked. I’m packing for North Carolina. At the time of this writing, it’s just a few days before I go, and I am going, really. This time I’m not simply daydreaming about it. I’m actually going. Today I am rooting through our stored stuff for something I never imagined I would need to take ‘home.’ An adapter. So, my Cambodia things work, in the US, which now feels like a foreign country. Twelve years away will do that.
Bit of a time crunch, trying to think about what else I might need after such a long gap of not going back. The deadline for this article falls smack on the date of travel.
I imagine many people, smart and creative people I know are doing this, would use AI to pop something out, about, oh, say, ‘nostalgia, pitfalls, expectations, things to watch for, and emotions around repatriating.’ I mean, people do it. But I can’t. I can’t stand it. No AI, for me.
As AI-y stuff likes to say, ‘Not because’ of this, ‘not because’ of that… but because it’s so boring to read what is so cookie-cutter, and so low effort. Does this opinion mean that I’m of the philosophy that words I put together here are not allowed to be dull and unimaginative? Yes. Yes it does. At least, I can give it my best, human-written shot. Because if one is writing with the hope that someone, somewhere, will relate to it and care, it means one must respect that person’s attention. Their time.
If you don’t care, then that’s a different matter, and I believe that’s why we have so much AI-made ‘content.’ You start, and then you’re four-fifths of a paragraph in, and bam, there it is, some telltale or another, you abandon it. You see it. You’re like, ‘Okay but come on, do I really care about your AI-generated conclusion?’ No. No, I do not. I’m calling a few acquaintances out on this, too, privately of course. People in my nearer circles. (Okay, just two people.) I said, ‘This would be so much more believable and I’d care so much more about it if you didn’t use AI-sounding language.’
Writing about your personal experience takes a kind of gutsiness that I admire in authors, but it gets washed out if they start to use AI. It just does. I am over it. I’ve tuned out. I question the credibility of the author, too. Is this even real? Does it come from somewhere deep and soulful? It’s hard to answer such questions now that we are getting blurry about what is ‘real’.
So let’s me get real. In a like, 3D real way. I invite you to meet me in the Triangle in North Carolina, in person, in real life. It might be really fun.
Let’s talk about things, in person, face-to-face. As the ‘third place’ is one of my homes (as is bebop, coffee with friends, solitude in big nature), and other things that change at times but mostly stay the same, I will host one there, too. A third place.
Yeah, so, my plans for Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill in August include hosting a weekly meetup, ‘The Prospect of Beauty’. At rotating spots. A series, a ‘stammtisch’ style deal where we show up every week somewhere and talk, talk together, talk in real life.
Talk, most importantly, in the fuzziest of spaces where we don’t have to be ‘correct’ but we can relax our guard and honestly share about what we’ve experienced in this world, so far, together. Those firsthand stories are more real. We can laugh brightly, we can feel our feelings, be seen, see and hear others, we can learn, discover, and connect. I’d like it if we don’t get overly caught up in such things as being ‘right.’ This gets in the way, big time, of relaxing into experiences of awe, beauty, and wonder.
Over the years I found out ‘artist’ isn’t a coat you wear, it’s a thing you are, a thing you do, that you can’t help but do.
Such art is… a gift.
My first-ever artist statement was something I wrote in 2008, in Seattle, for a show. I still feel this way about why I make these invitations to events, write Kismuth Books, collage my zines, and even write this column: ‘I want people to relax. To feel air, space, and comfort.’
It was true then, and it’s true now, too. There were so many instances of me trying to encourage people to feel relaxed, talk a bit, share their stories in semi-public, ‘third places.’ I’ve told you about those, many, many times, in this column. While it’s not simple to set up, it’s possible. Let’s try it. Let’s anticipate the possibilities, connect, and converse. Come hang out and meet new people, too.
Find details at: kismuth.com/upcomings.
Dipika Kohli is an author who is based in Phnom Penh. Discover her books at kismuth.com and other projects at dipikakohli.com.
