Zen and the Dance of Generative AI
An exploration of Robert Pirsig's Metaphysics of Quality and what it reveals about generative AI's fundamental limitations.
Note: You can scroll to the very end for a 6 minute TLDR NotebookLM “gist” summary
I first read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in 2012 and thought it was garbage. The title promised Zen philosophy, artistic insights, and mechanical wisdom. What I got was a road trip mixed with one man's mental breakdown and vague ramblings about something called "Quality."
I picked it up again many years later. Read it slowly this time. Listened to Pirsig narrate the audiobook himself. Grabbed his sequel Lila. And something clicked.
Pirsig wasn't being vague. He was trying to describe something we all experience but don't have words for.
Quality
Something that might explain why AI can write poetry that sounds beautiful but feels empty. Why it generates code that works but lacks elegance. Why it struggles with the very thing humans do naturally: recognizing what's actually good.
The Problem with How We Think About Quality
Western philosophy splits everything into subjects (minds) and objects (things). You're the subject reading this text, which is an object. This seems obvious. Pirsig said it's backwards.
Think about evaluating code quality. When you see good code, you don't think "I, a subject, am observing this code, an object, and I judge it to be good." You just know it's good. That recognition happens instantly, before your brain even separates "you" from "the code."
Pirsig argued this immediate recognition IS reality itself, not mystical nonsense but phenomenological fact). When debugging, you see the problem before explaining it. When recognizing elegant architecture, recognition precedes analysis. Quality appears first. The split between "you" and "the code" comes after.
To understand how Pirsig arrived at this radical reframing of reality, we need to examine the two books where he developed these ideas, each approaching Quality from a different angle, each carrying its own philosophical weight
The Two Books
ZMM's Ghost Named Phaedrus
Despite facing 121 rejections from publishers, Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance became a hit in philosophical fiction. A former technical writer for IBM, Pirsig spent four years crafting the philosophical autobiography disguised as a travel narrative. The book sold over five million copies—a staggering success for a work Pirsig later confessed he never expected anyone to read.
The surface story follows a motorcycle journey from Minnesota to California. A father and his eleven-year-old son Chris ride through the American West, camping under stars, fixing mechanical problems, climbing mountains. But Pirsig interrupts this narrative with what he calls Chautauquas, named after the traveling educational tent shows that brought culture to rural America. These philosophical digressions start small (thoughts about motorcycle maintenance) and gradually expand into fundamental questions about reality itself.
The narrator carries a ghost: his former self, whom he calls Phaedrus after Plato's dialogue about rhetoric and love. Phaedrus became so obsessed with defining Quality that he suffered a complete breakdown. The electroshock therapy that followed destroyed most memories but left fragments, philosophical shards the narrator excavates through the Chautauquas as he rides.
The motorcycle becomes Pirsig's perfect teaching tool precisely because it refuses abstraction. When you maintain a machine properly, you engage with Quality directly. You feel when something's wrong before you can explain it. You know when a repair succeeds not through measurement but through immediate recognition. Each Chautauqua returns to this point from a different angle, building toward the revelation that nearly destroyed Phaedrus and that the narrator must somehow integrate without losing himself again.
Quality's Discovery Through Writing
Before Phaedrus went insane chasing Quality, he taught freshman composition at Montana State College in Bozeman. The classroom became his laboratory for understanding value creation.
Students could identify quality writing instantly. Show them two essays, they'd pick the better one without hesitation. Ask them why, they'd fumble with circular explanations. The rules they'd learned (topic sentences, supporting evidence, proper transitions) didn't explain their immediate recognition. Bad writing could follow every rule. Good writing could break them all.
His first experiment removed quality from the curriculum entirely. Refuse to grade papers. Don't tell students what's good or bad. This should have produced chaos if quality were merely subjective opinion. Instead, students began recognizing quality themselves, without external validation. They knew when their writing improved. The classroom became electric with genuine engagement.
But caring alone wasn't sufficient. He assigned papers on boring topics deliberately. Write about the back of your thumb. Describe a penny. Students resisted, then something shifted. When forced to abandon preconceived notions about "interesting" topics, they discovered interest emerged from attention itself. The thumb revealed whorls and patterns. The penny told stories through its scratches and wear.
The opera house brick assignment became his most famous experiment. A student paralyzed by having to write about Bozeman found freedom in radical specificity. "Start with the upper left-hand brick."
"She was blocked because she was trying to repeat, in her writing, things she had already heard... She couldn't think of anything to write about Bozeman because she couldn't recall anything she had heard worth repeating. She was strangely unaware that she could look and see freshly for herself, as she wrote, without primary regard for what had been said before" (Pirsig, 1974, p. 194).
The brick forced direct encounter. No one had written about that specific brick. No received wisdom existed. She had to look, really look, and report what she saw. The friction of having nothing to repeat created space for genuine observation.
This revealed the crucial interplay of effort and letting go. Maximum effort applied to repeating patterns produces minimum quality. You strain to remember the "right" way to describe architecture, the "proper" terms for analyzing buildings. But letting go of these patterns while maintaining intense attention to the actual brick produces flowing prose. The effort shifts from forcing predetermined patterns to sustaining present attention.
Pirsig noticed his best students alternated between intense focus and relaxation. They'd work intently, then step back, allowing their unconscious to process. They'd discovered what he later called the "peace of mind" that enables quality: "Peace of mind isn't at all superficial, really. It's the whole thing. That which produces it is good maintenance; that which disturbs it is poor maintenance" (Pirsig, 1974, p. 291).
Gumption and Its Traps
Pirsig calls it "psychic gasoline." Gumption: that mysterious fuel that lets you spend six hours debugging code and feel energized rather than drained. The stuff that makes the difference between mechanically following Stack Overflow instructions and actually understanding why the solution works.
Consider two problem-solving experiences. First: you spend three days trying to fix something. You slam against walls, try everything, get nowhere. You walk away defeated. In the shower, the solution appears whole. You rush back, implement it, and it works. That breakthrough feels earned, valuable, yours. Second: you ask ChatGPT for help, try the third suggestion, problem solved in ten minutes. The objective result is identical—working solution. The subjective experience couldn't be more different. One built gumption through friction. The other bypassed friction entirely.
Without gumption, everything becomes mechanical repetition. You're just going through motions, checking boxes, waiting for 5 PM. With it, you're actually present. You notice the tiny click when a bolt seats properly. You hear the engine's tone shift when the mixture adjusts. You feel the code's architecture revealing itself through the error messages.
But here's the thing about gumption: it's ridiculously fragile. Pirsig maps the specific ways it drains away, what he calls "gumption traps":
Value rigidity: You're wearing someone else's prescription glasses. Everything looks wrong but you can't figure out why. John exemplifies this perfectly. He's locked into the romantic notion that technology dehumanizes, so he literally cannot perceive motorcycle maintenance as creative or fulfilling. His values block reality.
Ego: "If you have a high evaluation of yourself then your ability to recognize new facts is weakened. Your ego isolates you from the Quality reality." (Pirsig, 1974, p. 299) You know this feeling. You should understand this code by now. You're a senior developer, for Christ's sake. So you pretend you're not confused. You stop asking questions. You fake it. And the gumption bleeds away.
Anxiety: Pirsig calls it "gumption desperation." You're so anxious to fix the problem that you start trying random solutions. Change this variable. Recompile. Didn't work. Change another. Recompile. You're not debugging anymore; you're just flailing. Each failure increases anxiety, which clouds perception, which guarantees more failure.
Impatience: You decided this should take an hour. It's taking three. Reality is violating your schedule. "Impatience is close to boredom but always results from one cause: an underestimation of the amount of time the job will take" (Pirsig, 1974, p. 302) The rush to finish prevents you from seeing what's actually happening.
Boredom: The killer of attention. Every valve adjustment becomes identical. Every function looks the same. But that's the trap talking. If you're actually present, this valve has more carbon buildup, that one shows unusual wear patterns, this one's threads are slightly damaged. Boredom means you've stopped looking.
Each trap has its own phenomenology. Value rigidity feels like wearing a coat that doesn't fit. Ego feels like armor, protective but so rigid you can't move naturally. Anxiety manifests as physical tension, your shoulders creeping toward your ears. Impatience creates temporal pressure, like you're always running late even when there's no deadline.
Learn to recognize these feelings and you can catch yourself before the gumption tank hits empty. Feel that armor forming? That's ego. Notice your jaw clenching? That's anxiety. Everything looking the same? That's boredom talking, not reality.
Seventeen years passed before Pirsig wrote again. By then, ZMM's royalties had freed him from technical writing. His son Chris was dead, murdered during a mugging in San Francisco. The philosophy that had driven him insane now supported him financially. These inversions demanded examination.
Lila and the Metaphysics of Morals
Lila: An Inquiry into Morals abandons the motorcycle for a sailboat, the mountains for the Hudson River, the cross-country journey for a descent toward New York City. Where ZMM explored Quality phenomenologically through direct experience, Lila constructs a systematic metaphysics. Phaedrus is no longer a ghost but the narrator himself, whole enough to theorize, scarred enough to remember why theory alone destroys.
The book opens with Phaedrus picking up Lila in a bar. She's drunk, possibly schizophrenic, definitely trouble. They have sex on his boat. This isn't romantic setup; it's philosophical provocation. The entire book stems from one question: was sleeping with Lila a moral act?
Traditional morality says no. She's mentally unstable, possibly unable to consent properly. Social patterns condemn the encounter. But Phaedrus recognizes something else operating: biological quality responding to biological quality, patterns older than society asserting themselves. The question becomes not "was it moral?" but "according to which level of morality?"
Lila herself embodies Dynamic Quality's danger. She drifts through life without stable patterns, creating chaos wherever she lands. One moment she's lucid and insightful, the next she's tearing apart Phaedrus's boat in paranoid rage. She represents what happens when someone has too little Static Quality to function, just as the institutionalized Phaedrus represented too much Dynamic Quality breaking through static patterns.
In Hindu philosophy, 'lila' means divine play—the universe as spontaneous, purposeless creativity. Not purposeless as in meaningless, but purposeless as in needing no external justification. A child building sandcastles doesn't seek productivity metrics. Musicians jamming don't require optimization functions. The divine plays because play itself expresses the fundamental creative principle. Pirsig's Lila embodies this same principle at human scale: she exists without justification, creates without purpose, destroys without malice. Her chaos isn't pathological but cosmological.
The book's genius lies in using moral conflicts to reveal reality's structure. When Lila's friend Rigel calls her worthless trash, when intellectuals dismiss her as beneath consideration, when she steals Phaedrus's boat and tries to sail it herself, each incident illuminates how different levels of static quality judge each other.
Pirsig no longer writes as someone fleeing madness but as someone who's integrated it. The systematic framework of Lila doesn't replace ZMM's insights but houses them in architecture sturdy enough for construction.
The sailboat serves the same function as ZMM's motorcycle but inverted. Motorcycles demand constant attention; neglect them and they fail immediately. Sailboats can drift for days without intervention. This matches the books' different approaches: ZMM's urgent need to understand Quality before it destroys the narrator, versus Lila's patient construction of a complete metaphysical system by someone who's already been destroyed and rebuilt.
MoQ - The Metaphysics of Quality
Metaphysics functions as your operating system for existence. Even when we don't consciously engage with metaphysics, it runs like a background program painting our notion of reality. It determines what registers as real, what gets dismissed as illusion, and crucially, where value sits in your hierarchy of being.
Western philosophy runs on Subject-Object Metaphysics (SOM). Reality splits cleanly: subjects (consciousness, minds, observers) here, objects (matter, things, the observed) there. This division seems natural because it matches everyday experience. You read these words. Subject observes object. The boundary appears self-evident.
But Pirsig identified a devastating flaw. Under SOM, value becomes philosophically homeless. Beauty cannot reside in the painting itself (that's just arranged pigments on canvas) nor purely in your mind (that makes beauty arbitrary personal projection). We've constructed a worldview where love, beauty, meaning, and quality become embarrassing afterthoughts to "real" reality.
MoQ proposes: Quality, or Value, is primary. Value exists not as a subjective projection onto reality but as the fundamental condition from which subject-object understanding emerges. The perception of "betterness" precedes intellectual category construction of "self" and "other."
This isn't philosophical wordplay. When you understand Quality as primary, the question shifts from "How do we add meaning to meaningless matter?" to "How does primordial meaning differentiate into the patterns we call matter and mind?"
This primacy of Quality manifests in two distinct but interdependent forms that explain both stability and change in the universe.
The Two Forms of Quality
Dynamic Quality (DQ): The pre-intellectual cutting edge of reality, the source of all things. Pure, unpatterned experience. The moment of breakthrough. The unexpected solution. The rule that gets broken because breaking it works better. DQ cannot be defined because definition itself imposes static patterns onto fluid reality.
William James captured this: "the immediate flux of life which furnishes the material to our later reflection... Pure experience cannot be called either physical or psychical: it logically precedes this distinction." (James, 1912, p. 23)
DQ embodies freedom—freedom from established patterns, freedom to change. This drives evolution, creativity, and breakthroughs. But pure DQ remains unstable.
Static Quality (SQ): Stable value patterns that emerge from Dynamic Quality and become "latched" over time. Laws, habits, customs, concepts. "Static quality emerges in the wake of Dynamic Quality. It always contains a component of memory. Good is conformity to an established pattern of fixed values." (Pirsig, 1991, p. 134)
Neither works alone. Pure Dynamic Quality is like mutation running wild: cells changing randomly until the body fails. Pure Static Quality is like DNA that never changes: the organism keeps copying itself perfectly while the world around it shifts, until it can't survive anymore. Life needs both. Mutations create new possibilities. Selection keeps what works. Think of it like jazz improvisation: too much freedom and you get noise, too much structure and you get elevator music. The magic happens when spontaneous creativity meets disciplined form. Evolution works the same way. Change introduces options. Stability preserves successes. Without change, nothing adapts. Without stability, nothing lasts.
The Evolutionary Hierarchy
Lila organizes Static Quality into four levels, each representing accumulated value that resists degradation:
Inorganic Patterns: Physics and chemistry laws. Carbon bonds identically everywhere. No freedom, perfect determinism, but also no degradation across billions of years.
Biological Patterns: Life patterns utilizing inorganic patterns for survival and reproduction. DNA actively maintains its information against entropy. A bacterium exhibits minimal freedom but fights degradation through repair mechanisms and evolution.
Social Patterns: Cultural patterns regulating biological drives for group stability. Language resists degradation through daily use and teaching. Laws resist degradation through enforcement and tradition. "The social pattern that says 'it is illegal to kill' is a higher pattern than the biological pattern that says 'fight to survive.'" (Pirsig, 1991, p. 158)
Intellectual Patterns: Abstract thought evaluating and reshaping social patterns. Mathematical proofs resist degradation by being logically necessary rather than socially enforced. Scientific theories resist degradation through predictive power. "The intellectual pattern of democracy is a higher form than the social pattern of monarchy." (Pirsig, 1991, p. 159)
Each level can evaluate and override those below. Society restricts biological drives (no murder despite anger). Intellect challenges social customs (slavery was traditional but wrong). This isn't just description but prescription: higher patterns should guide lower ones.
"If moral judgments are essentially assertions of value and if value is the fundamental ground-stuff of the world, then moral judgments are the fundamental ground-stuff of the world." (Pirsig, 1991, p. 140)
Within MoQ, morality exists in evolutionary processes. Higher evolutionary levels represent higher morality through greater Dynamic Quality incorporation. "That choice which is more Dynamic, that is, at a higher level of evolution, is more moral." (Pirsig, 1991, p. 157)
This framework clarifies conflicts. Tension between biological desires and social constraints represents level conflict. Struggles between scientific inquiry and religious dogma exemplify intellectual and social pattern conflicts.
This hierarchical framework of evolving patterns provides the lens through which we can finally understand what AI actually does, and more importantly, what it doesn't.
The Bridge to Generative AI
Artificial intelligence begins with Static patterns: training data, optimization functions, architectures. These represent crystallized patterns of past Quality. AI manipulates patterns with superhuman efficiency, finding correlations humans miss, optimizing solutions faster than thought.
But Dynamic Quality exists before patterns, in what Pirsig calls "the pre-intellectual cutting edge of reality." True stuckness requires entering a space before thought. Trained patterns have failed. Procedures offer no guidance. You become empty, receptive. From this emptiness, Quality speaks. The solution arrives whole, not constructed but recognized.
AI never reaches this emptiness because it never truly fills. It processes but doesn't experience. It cannot practice wu wei because it has no action to suspend. It cannot transcend patterns because transcendence requires presence.
Machine and Human Learning
Take human musical learning. First, memorize scales (Static patterns). Practice until automatic (internalized Static Quality). Eventually improvise, breaking patterns when music demands (Dynamic Quality guiding Static). Finally create new forms others learn (Dynamic crystallizing into Static). AI masters the first two stages but cannot experience when the "wrong" note sounds right, when breaking the pattern serves the music. That recognition requires consciousness present to experience Quality directly.
A 2024 study found machine-generated poetry rated more favorably by non-expert readers for rhythm and beauty. (Binz & Schulz, 2024).
This demonstrates AI's capacity to refine existing poetic patterns. But refining patterns isn't creating new poetic movements. It's finding unwalked streets in mapped cities, not discovering new continents.
Consider writing using AI. You feed it your rough ideas, it produces polished prose. The book gets written faster than ever. But something's missing—the earned satisfaction of finding your voice through friction. You might produce a book, but did you become a writer?
The Creativity Illusion
When AI generates something "creative," it combines learned patterns in statistically novel ways. The system identifies relevant patterns from training data, weighs probable combinations, and outputs configurations we haven't seen before. This feels creative because the specific arrangement is new. But recombining existing patterns isn't creativity. It's merely sophisticated shuffling.
Genuine creativity breaks the possibility space itself. It recognizes when current patterns fail to capture reality and creates new ones. This requires Dynamic Quality. AI operates within the Static Quality pattern space defined by its training data. It can manipulate these patterns with superhuman speed and complexity, but it cannot recognize when the patterns themselves need abandoning. The system lacks the phenomenological awareness to feel that something is wrong with its fundamental assumptions. It permutates expertly within boundaries it cannot perceive.
This limitation becomes particularly problematic when we consider what patterns AI systems actually inherit from their training data.
The Inheritance of Judgment
When you learn to drive, you pick up more than traffic rules. You absorb your instructor's habits, their hesitations, their blind spots. Now imagine that instructor is all of humanity's recorded decisions.
That's what we do when we train AI on human data. We don't just teach it what we do. We teach it our biases, our assumptions, the accumulated prejudices we don't even know we carry. Every dataset contains not just information but the worldview of its creators.
This flaw extends to more serious applications of AI like the health space. Train an AI on medical records from hospitals that underserve Black patients, and it learns that Black pain matters less (Obermeyer et al., 2019). Train it on resumes from companies that favor Ivy League schools, and it learns that intelligence clusters in privilege. The patterns aren't corrupted. They're perfectly preserved. That's the problem.
GenAI as a Creative Assistant
Think of AI as a highly skilled but literal-minded assistant. When you dictate to a scribe, you maintain authorial control while delegating mechanical execution. The prompt box becomes your tool, the parameters your palette. You can maintain creative ownership by viewing AI as an instrument rather than collaborator. This shift in perspective from "AI created this" to "I created this using AI" changes the quality of the experience.
The social rewards for "uniqueness" will certainly become more competitive as AI democratizes technical skill. But by consciously valuing your Dynamic Quality engagement over Static Quality output, you shift the reward source inward. The satisfaction comes not from the product's uniqueness but from your authentic engagement with the creative process, however mediated by tools.
Pirsig encourages us to embrace the subjective first-hand encounters with Quality, not merely to recognize it in existing patterns but to risk breaking them and discovering something new. ZMM ends suggesting that avoiding Quality's demands can lead to individual madness. Lila concludes recognizing that Dynamic Quality, while destabilizing, remains essential for life's continuation. Both books argue that genuine creativity requires risking the chaos of undefined experience.
But even when we position AI as a tool rather than creator, we run into a fundamental limitation that no amount of sophisticated prompting can overcome.
The Pattern Prison
Think about learning to cook. First you follow recipes exactly. Measure every teaspoon, time every minute. Eventually you start to improvise. A little more garlic here, less salt there. Finally, you abandon recipes entirely. You cook by smell, taste, feel.
AI stops at step one. Forever.
Every AI system, no matter how sophisticated, operates through patterns it learned from training data. This isn't a bug waiting for a fix. It's the core architecture. The system can only remix what it's seen, like a DJ who can blend tracks brilliantly but can't write original music.
This creates a strange kind of expertise. The AI performs flawlessly within boundaries it cannot see. Imagine a chess grandmaster who doesn't know other games exist. The mastery is real, but categorically bounded.
Reasonable Objections
"But what about randomness? Can't AI achieve Dynamic Quality through random variation?"
Randomness isn't Dynamic Quality. It's scattered Static patterns. When AI adds randomness, it's sampling from probability distributions without recognition. No engagement with what emerges. No "yes, that's it" moment. The system can't distinguish productive accident from meaningless noise. If a human takes random AI output and recognizes Quality in it, then shapes it iteratively, the Dynamic Quality comes from human engagement, not the randomness itself. The consciousness in the loop matters.
"But isn't the human brain just a pattern-matching machine on biological hardware?"
Pirsig would say the difference lies in awareness itself. When you recognize Quality, you don't just process patterns unconsciously. You experience recognition. That "aha" feeling when code suddenly makes sense. The satisfaction when a sentence finally works. A neural network can identify faces better than humans, but can it experience recognizing a friend? The network processes patterns. You experience meaning. This phenomenological engagement with Quality seems irreducible to pattern processing alone.
"So machines need subjective experience to be creative?"
The consciousness debate misses Pirsig's point entirely.
MoQ sidesteps the mind-matter problem by treating both as evolved Static patterns from Dynamic Quality. Consciousness isn't some ghost in the machine. It's a high-level pattern that emerged from biological patterns, which emerged from inorganic patterns, all traceable back to Dynamic Quality events.
Think about it this way: AI's training data came from human Dynamic Quality engagement. Every line of code, every labeled image, every text in the corpus represents someone's moment of Quality recognition frozen into Static pattern. The AI inherits these crystallized insights without experiencing the Dynamic process that created them. Like inheriting a library without knowing how to read—you possess the patterns but not the capacity that generated them.
Within MoQ's hierarchy, AI represents a new form of intellectual-level Static pattern. Just as DNA encodes biological solutions to environmental challenges, AI encodes intellectual solutions to computational challenges. No mysterious interaction problem exists because both human thought and artificial computation operate as Static patterns at the intellectual level. The question isn't whether silicon can "think" like carbon. The question is whether artificial intellectual patterns can touch Dynamic Quality directly or only manipulate its crystallized static patterns.
Takeaways
Read the books. ZMM takes 400+ pages to say what summaries can't. The digressions aren't padding. The motorcycle maintenance isn't metaphor. Pirsig builds understanding through repetition and variation, like learning a language through immersion rather than flashcards. You'll miss the point, get frustrated, want to quit. That's the gumption building. First read: confusion. Second read: patterns emerge. Third read: you get it.
Watch your gumption levels. AI tools drain it faster than you realize. Every instant output bypasses the friction that builds capability. Notice when you're just accepting suggestions versus actively choosing. Track the difference between "good enough" and "yes, that's it." The gap between those feelings is where Quality lives.
The traps are real and immediate:
Output addiction: Ten AI-generated articles feel productive. One paragraph you fought for builds skill. Volume without struggle creates dependency, not development.
Premature optimization: Chasing engagement metrics before finding your voice guarantees mediocrity. You optimize toward existing patterns instead of discovering new ones.
Suggestion gravity wells: Every autocomplete pulls toward the average. Every "enhance" button smooths edges that needed to stay sharp. AI shows you the mapped territory. Quality exists off-map.
GenAI is a tool, not a collaborator. Like a sophisticated typewriter that suggests words. You wouldn't credit your pen as co-author. Don't cede authorship to algorithms.
Assert your autonomy. Step away from the screen when outputs blur together. Your vision clarifies in the space between prompts. Trust the intuition that says "this isn't right" even when you can't articulate why. Take risks the AI won't suggest. Break patterns it can't imagine breaking.
Value process over product. The struggle to articulate beats the ease of generation. What you earn through friction stays with you. What you generate without effort leaves no trace. Authenticity emerges from sustained engagement with resistance, not from optimizing prompts until something "works."
My own experience: 20+ hours wrestling with AI tools for this article. The song "From Minnesota." took at least a dozen try-mutate-retry loops. As I worked on it, I tried to meditate on dynamic quality. My most productive moments came from rejecting outputs, not accepting them. And the most satisfying came when I replaced entire sections with my own words. Editing, re-reading the books to find quotable snippets itself was enjoyable. Reframing the “grind” from wasted time to necessary resistance changed everything.
Notes
Claude Opus 4.1 for outlining and prose polishing
SunoAI for generating the song
The book images link to Amazon, as an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
References
Binz, M., & Schulz, E. (2024). AI-generated poetry is indistinguishable from human-written poetry and is rated more favorably. Scientific Reports, 14(1), 7690.
James, W. (1912). Essays in Radical Empiricism. Longmans, Green, and Co.
Pirsig, R. M. (1974). Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values. William Morrow & Company.
Pirsig, R. M. (1991). Lila: An Inquiry into Morals. Bantam Books.Obermeyer, Z.,
Powers, B., Vogeli, C., & Mullainathan, S. (2019). Dissecting racial bias in an algorithm used to manage the health of populations. Science, 366(6464), 447-453. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.aax2342