ChatGPT won’t kill ‘writing’, but it WILL kill ‘content’

I have a deep, simmering hatred for the word “content”.

In 2023, I’m guessing we’ve all all heard this word. But I’ll offer a brief, imperfect, human-generated definition: “Content” is what makes up the internet.

Medium articles, instagram memes, SEO pages about the best app developer services in India, TikToks, your aunt’s political Facebook posts — these are all ‘content’.

Some of that stuff can be pretty good — so why do I hate this word? Because ‘content’ is a generic, artless term. 

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Nepal 45: Howl

Alan Ginsberg Howl

My search for breakfast again took me along the touristy Lakeside strip. I didn’t much mind though—after a month of having the “local experience” in Taiwan, I was more than happy to play the tourist for a little bit.

And the Nepali love tourists. Not in a snide, disparaging way like you might find in some other places— the Nepali genuinely love their visitors, and are happy to help them experience the culture and natural beauty of their country. This is the only touristic place I visited on this trip where I didn’t feel any sort of tension between the tourists and the locals. So if you’re going to be a clueless tourist looking for a piece of home, Nepal is as good a place as any to do it.

My search for familiarity led me to the Pokhara branch of Himalayan Java. I had spent some time at the Himalayan Java in Kathmandu.

Apparently it’s a chain, I thought to myself as I spotted the signs. Maybe not a chain, could just be a second location. After all, the Himalayan Java in Kathmandu hadn’t seemed particularly slick or reproducible. And although Nepal’s a wonderful country, there probably aren’t too many opportunities to open a western-style coffee chain. Kathmandu, Pokhara, maybe Chitwan, I mused as I crossed the road and headed to the coffee shop.

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Nepal 44: Looking Down

nepal buildings

It was early morning in Pokhara, Nepal. I was standing atop the roof of the Hotel Snow Leopard, breathing deep, taking in the view, and trying to come to terms with my life. A life which had brought me on a whirlwind tour of seven Asian countries, torn up my relationship of two and a half years, and spit me out here: 23 years old, alone, standing on a rooftop in Nepal. Gazing towards the Annapurna Range, hidden behind a thick layer of haze. Looking for something which didn’t seem to want to reveal itself to me.

I walked to the edge of the roof. Put my toes over the edge. Looked down.

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