What the hell is even going on? What is a human who wishes to live a sane, grounded, decent life supposed to make of AI? How are we to relate to this technology?
I’ll be real with you. I’ve been flip-flopping on these questions over and over again. One moment I’m convinced that all LLM output is useless for discerning humans, a mere torrent of vaguely smart-sounding bullshit that falls apart on close inspection. The next moment I’m building software and websites for myself that are so impeccably tailored to my idiosyncratic sensibilities that I can hardly believe my eyes. Though I’m certain I want nothing to do with AI writing, I’m feeling more excited about my work, and the entire world of computing, than I have been in years. As someone who never learned to code, building the tools I imagine in my head makes me feel like a freaking wizard.
At the same time, I recognize many the hallmarks of compulsion and addiction in how I, and many others, relate to this technology. My friend Raj, who I’ve been building Flowstate with, described his sessions with Claude Code as “meth mode.” It’s that state where you’re running dozens of agents simultaneously, jumping between them in a state of euphoric mania, where hours disappear in the snap of a finger, and when you finally come back to earth, you feel a bit hungover and real life has lost its luster. You’re just itching to get back to your computer to build some more, to get your next hit.
At first it sounded a little over the top. But once I started building Bricks, a native Mac and iOS app I’ve long wanted for myself, I experienced meth mode firsthand. I normally keep an old-man sleep schedule—up at 5, in bed by 9—but when I first started building the app, I was routinely up until midnight or 1am, adding this or that new feature, then sitting back down in front of my computer right upon waking, completely foregoing my usual routine of prayer, coffee, and reading. I was forgetting to eat and exercise. I monitored my agents’ progress while I was out with friends, not really being present. It bore many of the hallmarks of the other addictive and compulsive behaviors that have derailed me in my life. As someone who’s spent the past few years deep in the rooms of 12 step recovery, addiction is not a frame I take lightly. Anything addictive can utterly destroy a human life.
This technology is clearly useful, and shows great promise for freeing us from a lot of mechanical and routine computer work. It’s also hyper-stimulating and scratches a lot of itches that are better scratched through human connection. I don’t think we’re ready to relate to this stuff in a sane, sober, grounded way. I’m certainly not.
There’s a Wendell Berry quote I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Something along the lines of, “It’s easy to imagine the next great division of the world will be between people who wish to live as creatures and those who wish to live as machines.”
In many ways, the major theme of my life these last five years has been reclaiming my humanity back from The Machine. I’ve been unlearning the mechanistic worldview that dominated my psyche, and learning to appreciate and care for the creature I am. And that’s how I want to live out the rest of my days—as a creature of this earth and a child of God who relates to everything he encounters with grace, curiosity, and the intelligence of the heart. That includes computers and technology and AI. I enjoy these things and find them miraculous and useful, at the same time as I’m aware of the dangers they conceal, and the endless series of Faustian bargains they offer us.
There are no easy answers here. I’m neither a neo-Luddite who wishes to live off the grid and sabotage data centers, nor am I some transhumanist techno-utopian who believes we’re conjuring a new machine god. I’m a secret third thing. I care greatly about protecting and deepening into what makes me human, all the while using and enjoying the fruits of technology. Which means I’m likely to remain in a state of confusion for the foreseeable future. I can live with that, though. As we say in the rooms, the only way to do it is one day at a time.
P.S. I’ve been thinking about running some kind of reading/writing club for people who want to earnestly explore their own confusing relationship to technology. Leave a comment if that sounds intriguing to you. I really wanna explore these questions in community!
I treat AI, the mobile phone, Technocapital, as animal-like and powerful daemons that could I ride but would devour me if I'm not careful and I'm not ready for the dangerous ride. It seems to be working.
This really chimes with me. I’ve spent the last two years or so chained to Cursor building app after app. Some I’m very proud of. Others, well you can always put it down as a learning experience. Slowly, over that time I’ve managed to find the trigger points and use those to redirect some of that manic energy into other pursuits: editing my novel, gardening, decorating. It works, sometimes. Still got 15 chapters of novel to tidy up. And when, as you say, it feels like someone had handed you a magic wand, it’s difficult not to whip it out at every opportunity. I guess the thing is that, like everything, we tend to go all in, too far, then have a period of confusion - what is too much? what is not enough? These things settle in time. Would be interested in your book club.