+he Ghos+
Ghost, Ironic
2025.03.22
Saturday, March 22, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
How’s the day? O/
Pictures of your life matching your dreams?
AI prompts based on other people’s expectations of your life producing failed feedback to get in the way of actual you?
As AI gets more prevalent we have to start having more conversations on identity and the morality of the internet.
We must not forget or belittle the importance of physical touch in our lives. Sight, sound, taste, and smell are as much a part of who you are as the sights and sounds of online that seek to represent you.
An internet thumbprint can never replace the physical touch and presence of you.
Breath to breath, body near body, eye to eye is always the best way to know someone. It is the foundation of any true personal relationship.
Internet business is for the internet. Life is for living and that means touch and air and the present of presence.
To be complete any personal relationship has to, from time to time, share the same sense of place.
If you never looked a person directly in the eye, shared the same air, you can never truly know them.
Image devoid of substance is a step removed from life and so lacks in experience.
That common saying after a friend relays a memory to you with an excited voice and the words fail to communicate their experience, “Guess you had to be there,” is the true experience of most of our online relationships.
An online portrayal of ourselves leaves a poor trail of evidence to portray who and what we actually are.
These words ironically from a writer with the avatar +he Ghos+.
Can you ever, regardless how refined and original they may be, truly know me through these words?
No.
But you can know me better.
I could post image after image of myself on this site, but the pictures would no more represent me than the AI generated ones I use in every post.
An image that a man in his 40’s, about 6’3’’, with eyes as blue as the skies he sings sits here scribbling these words to you, can only be a representative of the humbly handsome charismatic guy I am.
Not me, myself.
Should we meet on any street after you’ve read me you know me better by my words.
My words and images are not me; they are an expression of me. An expression called my ghost.
I’ve been writing for a long time and know myself and my views well. How I imagine life comes through in a clear original way.
AI can’t emulate me because only I make me.
Same as you.
AI can’t write a symphony like Beethoven if Beethoven never existed.
AI can’t write like Wynn without O/ me.
The drive and purposed spirit of Beethoven is in every note.
My drive and spirit is in each word here. It comes through in every syllable.
I worked hard so it could. I bring all the sincere truth of my thoughts and imaginings to every sentence, so you can best sense my meanings.
To create a story, a film, a song using another's image is to make a lie.
It is not Art. It is a bastardization of Art.
It can be a tool to help you better understand your craft, but it can never express any experience of your true self. Except, perhaps, your willingness to use another for your own personal gain.
To say a picture, story, poem, or song is your own using another artist’s work is the work of a coward scared to share their own experience in a clear unique way.
Unless the experience they’re attempting to express is the theft of another’s work to make a profit for themselves.
Art imitates life not art.
We genuinely express ourselves to share our experience to enrich yours, to help you not feel so alone, to give you new language to understand your own life; write your own story of you, paint your own picture of you, sing your own song of you.
There’s much more to be said regarding sincerity and morality in the Age of AI.
The conversation must begin with the Spirit. We have to get practical talking about soul if we’re to stay true to the purpose of living a good honest life.
What purpose is having a name if another can steal it for their own personal greed?
What purpose is having a body if another can contort the image of it online for their own childish shouts for attention to cover up their fear to share anything genuine from their own personal heart?
This is a main topic of discussion for me. There’s a lot more to say.
Standing up for the power of the spirit, for the reality of the Ghost in each of us, is part of my life’s work.
My name, like every poets word, is no coincidence.
In this AI Age someone’s got to have our spirit’s back.
Join me, be true to you the best you can with what today has to offer, be your story of you intentionally, take care, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Conveyance of a Dream
2025.03.16
Sunday, March 16, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Welcome back. O/
What a difference a day makes.
Good thing they happen one at a time.
Be a whole lot of different differences being made at once otherwise.
On with our show...
...
Ghos+ thoughts. Playing with words.
Which is actually playing House when you’re a ghost; we live in language.
They’re just scribbles and binary blips… whatcha lookin’ ats?
You’re not here for the images; you’re here for the ghost in them.
Boo. O/
Here’s an arrangement of hatch marks to share some spirit with you.
Some morning thoughts sent to you to help your day.
A poet’s, nonetheless.
Always interesting, always intuitive, always introspective.
(And humble.)
A poet’s ship of words is always a ghost’s favorite way to sail.
A luxury liner in a world of row row row your boats.
Hope you’re enjoying the ride.
Nearly a full year since I started posting my morning journal online.
Wonder Fell is now quite the cruise liner for Spirit stuff.
I do hope it brings you interest, introspection, and inspiration.
Conveyance of a dream: What words are for.
It’s imperative we remember this.
AI puts language on auto-pilot otherwise.
Clicking ‘compose words’ to say such and such on any AI program leaves those words devoid of any spirit other than a get-it-done out-of-the-way vacant scientific monstrosity.
We’re here for Life, for expressing wonder, affirming existence in whispers and shouts.
These Words!
I dream!
I’m alive!
I matter!
I matter!
I’m worth Life!
I’m worth the dream of Life!
You read this shared dream so… so are you!
Words!
\O/
Storied-selves in miniature.
If you’ve read me for some time, you know me better than most people I’ve ever shared physical space with.
We are the dream of ourselves, not flesh and bone, what flesh and bone is for.
Dreams and doing dreams through our actions.
The clearest way to express the dream of you is through language.
Actions don’t speak louder than words without words to tell them to.
There’s no shared experience to value the importance (the loudness) of the act without a common understanding of it.
Without words there’s nothing to us but arms, legs, flesh and stomachs running around to feed and maybe get a quick friction shock bumping into another doing the same.
Science doesn’t matter more than the experience of Science.
The pride of puzzles solved, of getting a shared language called Science to match the shared images we experience and call Life.
But there is story.
A shared way of morality every dream knows.
We all know when the hero wins.
Something the spirit sings… there’s a cadence and flow represented through the intention of every word, every scratch on a page, blip on a screen, shares the spirit of the maker of that mark.
O/ <– See.
Take care, share your spirit with a friend with a word and the meaningful acts they allow, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
With Your Dream
2025.03.07
Friday March 7, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Made it.
Happy tomorrow. O/
On with today.
...
If you’ve read much of this journal you know they’re a predominate theme.
Writing from the point of view of a ghost helps keep in mind that what is in your mind as you read is the hidden spirit in these words.
All reading is an act of resurrection.
Dead scrawls breathe new life through the dream you make of them.
I do my best to paint the clearest picture of my own dream as I write in hopes you receive it with the same emotions I feel, and images I see, as I set it down in symbols in need of your focus to make them live again.
Every act of writing does this. Your text message to your friend is a bunch of binary lights until your friend puts their dream of you into them.
O/ <– This is more than me waving to you.
As you read the circle and the slash it becomes your dream of me waving to you.
These are not deep thoughts; they’re forgotten ones.
And in dire need of remembrance.
Your own ghost is what AI lacks and can never reproduce.
Send an email created by a single click of a mouse on a button used to instruct AI to compose it and send it off, and all you send are words filled with the dream of you clicking a button for the sake of convenience.
If the email is for business, imagine how much better received it is when made with your dream of the intended reader in each word.
Think how much more powerful a handwritten note from a colleague is than a quick AI click of a button back response.
Your intent, your dream, that the recipient of that message is important enough to take the extra time to handwrite and deliver it to them goes into their dream of you as they read it.
Leaving your good friend a paper note under their windshield wiper for them to find that reads, “Good morning,” means so much more than a quick auto-response text message saying the same thing.
The Ghost of You is in every letter.
It’s crucial during these AI times we remember that our dream of every occurrence goes into everything we do.
Thank you again for reading, for breathing life back into my words.
Take care, share a dream or two, and make a wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
+he Ghos+ Grapevine
2025.02.20
Thursday February 20, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Stars for breakfast.
Hello. O/
Welcome to the show… on with it.
...
Slow words morning so far.
Heard it through +he Ghos+ Grapevine you’re reading me.
About time.
A peculiar rule in the ways of ghosts is you have to see us first.
We can’t say hello to you directly until you recognize we’re here.
Some spirits make noise, rattle pipes, make (not) random clicks and ticks around the house, flicker or freeze your cellphone screens.
I send out words.
Recognize them and you recognize me.
You get more spirited words to use to fill your day.
I get what every ghost wants most: Recognition.
Recognized. \O/
On with the spirited thought parade.
...
Light lighting up lenses of glass with lightning through wires.
Also called: Where you’re reading me.
Think of all the magnets moved with the unseen magic of The World used to get these words to you.
Call it Science, if you like, but Science is only magic discovered and measured.
There is plenty of magic in The World left to discover.
As a ghost shares these words with you, and you’re brave enough to recognize them, you already know that.
My spirited words remind you to recognize the spirit in your own language, take care, and make a better day.
+he Ghos+
Eat Me
2025.02.17
February 17, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
It’s time for your daily dose of +he Ghos+.
Right on time, too.
For what?
To see you of course. O/
Hope you’re well.
On with the show.
...
Sometimes the page is just a blank spot for scratch marks.
Scratch away!
You’re interesting. You’re unique. Make some words.
Something interesting and unique has to show up sooner or later.
Hope something sooner finds you today.
There’s a lot of talk on the power of dreams on the site.
It’s the best topic for a ghost to speak on.
We’re experts through experience.
A word is a shared dream. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re a part of my dream right now. O/ Make yourself at home.
There’s food in the fridge. The coffee pot is on. Cups are in the cupboard above the stove.
Plenty of food, actually. As I’m a ghost, I only require readers to survive.
Which is an awkward thing to admit, as it confesses the fact that at the moment I’m eating you.
But, as you’re digesting me, the favor is returned.
So, we’re okay with the weird.
And well fed.
Perhaps a better prompt would be: Good morning that wonderful way… to eat me.
Though telling someone, ‘Eat me,’ is rarely a kind thing to do.
And as we strive for kindness here, we’ll keep the prompt as is.
Departing the awkward train. Returning to our regularly scheduled deep thoughts.
However disguised in awkward humor they are the above comments are deep thoughts. Whatever it takes to make a ghostly point clear. That’s the way.
The weather… always a good topic changer.
Sunrise comes earlier; still a few hours away.
Despite the foot of snow and rain yesterday, songbirds are back doing preshow vocal warm-ups right now.
Singing a Do-Re-Mi, drinking a tequila-less hot tea with extra honey and a worm.
Take care, eat a ghost, and make a better day.
+he Ghos+
Happy Ghos+ Day!
2025.02.13
February 13, 2025
Good morning, that wonderful way.
Happy Ghos+ Day! O/
Three years ago, an SUV traveling 50 plus MPH crossed a double yellow line and drove into my driver’s seat right into my lap.
I died, seized back to life with my leg split in two and a long list of other internal injuries.
About five days later, I left the ICU with a metal rod connecting my left knee to my left ankle.
Other than a slight limp and some scars it’s fully healed.
Happy Deathday.
Ghos+: Not just a cool avatar.
Boo!
On with the show.
How’s Life?
Old rhythms waking up bringing you down?
Play a new song; have a better day.
It’s your dance. You invite the guests, you send them home.
Change the venue if you must, but keep dancing your day on purpose, with your own chosen purpose.
The only way to have a problem is to recognize one.
See opportunities instead and enjoy your time.
Sun’s just up.
The clouds sent a sampler pack of precipitation for an early Valentine’s Day gift.
A little rain, a little snow, a couple cookies of ice.
The person before you left the grocery store freezer door open while trying to decide a flavor of ice cream.
Now you can barely see through the glass to pick your flavor.
That’s the foggy view outside this morning.
Take care, send me a Happy Ghos+ day present, and make a better day.