Visualizing Balance via “China”: Artificial Intelligence (AI), Nature, and the Forgiveness of Sins

How I Came to Be at Peace with World War III by Balancing Anger, Sadness, and Joy with the IBM Watson Artificial Intelligence (AI)

I wrote this email to my ex-girlfriend Yana:

“Dear Yana,

I assembly my thoughts today at the Standing Rock Prayer meeting in Fort Yates.  I came back to Standing Rock this week.

I came the idea of working on the need for hurricane relief water protectors in the South, with the ability to find clean water in the event of a Flint-like collapse of water treatment in Florida due to climate change.

Florida will need this technology as it will be the first state to be submerged by salt water. After this prayer meeting in Standing Rock Indian Reservation, I am driving back to Atlanta to rest a while at home with my mother and sister and begin work raising money for the SCiO and MyDx molecular smartphone sensors for the Northern Minnesota Iron Range water project with water protectors from around the world. 

I am going to start readings at the Apache Cafe, originally recommended as the best way to get “noticed” by the Atlanta hip-hop/spoken word/poetry scene. The piece I made this morning called “China” (https://soundcloud.com/user-132316540/china) will be shared in a polished form soon. It’ll be the first piece I have made that I think is worth being memorized for performance. It has a tension that hold all the way through, and dances between angersadness, and joy. That line that comes when you reach a place of balance and serenity.  This YouTube video gives that idea visually (https://youtu.be/otyVpl0S00k).  

There’s money in them rising waters! 

Lol :-),

Kaya

P.S. I have a tool to make a solar yurt to put on my car.  Want to help make a solar yurt?

Then came out to Standing Rock to pray.  God gave me this poem in a revelation:

Input the following text into an AI, IBM Watson (IBM Watson Tone Analyzer Output):

“Standing Rock, there’s a strong wind blowing to the Northeast.  Tipi in front of me, Diet Pepsi in hand.  White clouds reminding me of the spotlights, but it’s peaceful and there are stars.  It’s about six AM, and I just came out here on a whim based on a post by a friend.  A friend who I spend the last month with in camp in Minnesota. One-quarter Ojibwa, she touched me and led me to come here.  To walk back one year later to where it all began… …and ended…  …and at the same time it’s like that moment last year.  The day of dogs and gas, children playing with horses, and the school of the Seventh Generation, solar, language, games, toys frolicking in a school house one day after a post just asking for help.  This place is a strange place.  Phones, Facebook.  Facebook hill.

These are unsophisticated things here

They got here that way

Jobs Zuckerberg

Back to land movement

Crowds source, coming together peer to peer

We are bound together somehow

At this moment, the sun’s coming up

Flickering candle flame

I wait for the fires to be lit

This day is just another day in my life

but I’d say it’s something new

Not that I know what it will be

Not even today can I predict that

and the memory of the past that trace

It’s like a cycle of suffering that

has to break

trauma from memories from generations ago

My cousin Meral asked me when are you coming to see the Canukkule the battlefield

When they could have come in just like they did here

Pushed us back to some piece of land

Gaza, West Bank, Golan Heights, Fond De Lac, White Earth

Lot of blood in those hills

During the great war when they thought there would not be another one

When We the People held them back.

Bhahavagita See your family is at war, both sides one for one, eye for eye, tooth for tooth

Their blood will be shed, Brother against brother, sister against sister

Long ago it was not Turkey

It was this projection outside the middle east a bridge from Asia minor to Europe

Not just some D-Day, where they did not go back,

In this way they went all the way

Kemal Ataturk came and changed the language.

Looked to French for enlightenment

Look to Rousseau
French Revolution

Not something that many people in that place like

You see the drones lighting up the sky

They come just slowly ticking you at light

They just scrape on your tent, just enough to mess with your mind

That was not a dream two nights ago

I woke up, talked to Sherry

Raspberry Gravel

Footsteps of Tigerswan and Klan members

8th Ishkode

Thing we put there just to pray

Put down the guns

Picked up two knives, picked up hammer

Love you dearly I have to go to Grand Marais

This is a war

Only one way to go forward, flight

Fight like red cloud

Can’t compromise with the devil

More cars

Diet soda, Mountain Dew

Go back to that conversation

I’ve seen your people, my people

We are in this together somehow

Somehow so do I

He is pushing is all to the edge

Pussy grabbing

Second Amendment people

Hits on judges

What we’ve got here is something is something different

Failure to communicate

When that breaks down you get what we had hear last year

and in 1890

like the beachheads of Cannickule

Father or Mother

They come driving out the best and brightest

Trying to escape the backwards

Olugm, my son to come, study your Qur’an and when you have enough money

Go home

Restore what is lost

There might be something left when the war is over

It’s in this scared stone

The way the natives pray with tobacco

Never seen anything like what I saw last year

Running again militarized cops

Send women and children first

Something strange

Something odd

See in Kaaba

Feminine

Odd wake up call

Last year, the day of dogs and gas

Next door,

She came back

gave camera, drone, bear spray

Do what you can with these things

She went back the next day

Prayed

Just too much

Too much racism

Cursed as Wachichu

Here to help

Not unlike to soldiers on the beaches

Like Iraq and Afghanistan

To build schools to make life better

I can see that in my self too

but, I would say that the lesson of this last year has been to be in conversation with people about balance

but I struggle with that

I can see things a certain way

Not sure I like it techno or primitive

The conversations we have will be largely about that

Finding Middle Road

To talk across cultures

Out of the ash of the old

Rebirth

There’s a sunrise

In  this case I think it’s not just the natives or whites or even muslims

Israel-Palestine

See a chance for deliverance and chance for peace

There’s a freedom, spiritual camp in West Bank

Israeli peace activists camping out with Palestinian brothers and sisters praying for water

Prayed for direct action on line 3

I pray for an aggressive peace

A ruthless resistance to the times of insanity

Where the insane clown

Dennis Rodman

North Korea

Pussy grabber

TV show man

WWF star president

Professional wrestler as governor

When will this country wake up?

Will it take a Chinese invasion?

Soldiers from Orient landing on shores of California, Washington, and Oregon

I welcome them

I don’t fight the Chinese characters

Please come my Chinese friends.”

IBM Watson Tone Analyzer Output:

From Yana:

“Kaya.

Thank you so much for this. It really touched me. Your voice sounded like you are good. And I love the part about balance. Feels like such a breakthrough to hear you not just identify with the turkish and the oppressed of all kinds, but to acknowledge the other part in you (British, white, male, high tech, etc) in a way that embraces it instead of hating that part of yourself. To try to make peace with both sides, synthesize, while at the same time being committed to a fight against injustice and evil, avoiding simple labels and demonizing of groups of people, encouraging conversations. Obviously, I’m not putting it into words very well. But it filled me with so much hope. For you, for the world, for the possibility of overcoming the cycle of trauma somehow. I used to sense this in you a long time ago, that hope, that wish to fight FOR, the agressively peaceful, and hearing this reflection today choked me up (in a good way),because it feels like you are finding that place in yourself, a peace, and a fighting spirit that is based not as much on hate as on love, of the world, and, finally, of yourself.

Peace and love,
Yana

(don’t worry, I don’t mean “love” in my previous, silly way that had nothing to do with love. I am not looking for anything from you. I just wish you well and it makes me happy to see you on what feels like a healing path)”

Amen…

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Fukushima Angel: Minnesota Metals, Sulfide Mining, and Oil Pipeline Mapping via Crowdsourcing

Perk Place Coffeehouse & Bakery, Duluth, Minnesota

September 12, 2017

Data on Fukushima fallout from Safecast crowdsourced map.

Wrote a response to Safecast after nine and half months of searching for something worth doing with my life to follow up on an e-introduction from my friend Jud in Atlanta (Mr. Thorium Reactor):

“Dear Safecast,

Several months ago in January of this year I met Jud Taylor in an Atlanta, Georgia hackerspace. He and I connected about water quality monitoring and mapping via the same paradigm as used by Safecast after Fukushima. Initially, at that time I was looking at the issues around water quality in Flint, Michigan where lead toxicity was a problem for people. I abandoned the idea of going up there to start such a project for personal reasons. I ended up moving to Minneapolis, Minnesota. While up here in Minnesota, I began to connect slowly with people who had been involved with the Standing Rock North Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) resistance last fall. There is a very large Native American community in Minnesota with a strong interest in water protect post Standing Rock. We all agree that direct actions and protest did nothing to stop the building of the DAPL, but have come to the realization that it was the beginning of a new age of environmentalism and community engagement around natural resource protection. More than anything, I feel that the people in the Standing Rock movement want to be a part of efforts that can shine light on the public health risks of environmental toxins in an age where both government and corporate efforts to provide information to the public have withdraw from being legitimate. The deletion of climate change data from United States government websites is a glaring example of this overall trend. This is probably preaching to the choir.

Here in Minnesota there are two overlapping issues that the Native American and environmental community are organizing around. An oil pipeline from the Tar Sands in Canada called Line 3, and sulfide and metals (e.g. copper and nickel) mining. I am interested in working on building IT infrastructure for citizen scientist monitoring of chemistry associated with public health risks around these industrial activities. Right now, I am most interested in monitoring very simple analytes as I focus on building both a community network local and abroad around the idea of getting what has largely been a direct action movement to move towards citizen science monitoring of environmental data. The prevailing mood in the large big money nonprofits that support hardcore direct action such as the Climate Defense Project (https://climatedefenseproject.org/ — Berkeley, California) and Climate Disobedience Center (http://www.climatedisobedience.org/ — Salt Lake City, Utah) is that we need to move beyond these tactics to the tactics used by Safecast to actually provide hardcore data to the public in as real time manner as possible.

I am very interested in cloud based Internet of Things devices, mobile apps, and simple cheap hardware like the Safecast bGeigie Nano for pH, water conductivity, and metals sensing. Furthermore, devices that can allow citizens to rapid respond to a pipeline spill are of extremely high interest. Even something as simple as a data site for photography, and narratives from landowners is very valuable to legal efforts to support ecological protection. The trend of people to use sites like Facebook in these efforts is primitive and subject to the “fake news” phenomenon. Judging what is a scientifically provable public health risk versus hysteria can be very hard to decipher if one relies on these sources.

Fukushima actually is quite a good example of this, many people now will no longer eat fish because they think the reactor breach polluted the entire ocean. To what degree did it, and how will it influence long term ecological dynamics is a question that requires data over a long time. It needs citizens to collect it, and to be preserved for analysis by trained experts. All these factors influence my reaching out to you at this point.

Would it be possible for us to arrange a time to talk on the phone or Skype? I am considering traveling out to Japan next year, and would love to meet you all in person.

Thank you for the wonderful work you do and the example you have set with the efforts in Fukushima.

Kaya

Gentlemen,

I hereby introduce William Erbil, a member of my current hackerspace, Freeside Atlanta. William is very interested in Safecast, and would like to undertake similar efforts with regard to chemical contaminants, such as lead in water. William will follow this email very soon with one of his own.

Thank you very much for your attention. I hope all is well with each of you.

Best Regards,

Jud”

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Minnesota Nice Ice

A working draft of a poem book that explores computers and language. Each piece in the collection is passed through IBM Watson’s Tone Analyzer to examine how the artificial intelligence AI software program interprets my writing. Most of the pieces come from my Medium account where I’ve posted poems and other writings during a break up of a long term relationship, settled into Minneapolis, Minnesota, and worked to find a job. Each piece is dated. The work in these two documents are similar, one is a Acrobat .pdf file and one is a Microsoft Word .docx file. I am going to transition away from writing independently for a while, and explore writing poems with the IBM Watson Poem Generator mentioned at the end of the document below. The details of how this poem generator was made can be found at this Medium article. Next task is to learn how to modify the code of the poem generator and to incorporate it and its modifications into phone and web apps. The code for the poem generator can be found on Github.

Poem Book with IBM Watson analysis:

MinnesotaNiceIce_08242017.pdf

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Dinkytown: The Sexual Nature of Creativity

     I notice her walk in. Here in this space, art covers the walls and books a plenty sit on the shelves. You can look at Dinkytown two ways. One, it’s a cesspool of drunken undergraduate fraternity and sorority house residents and their friends. Multiple cop cars populate the block routinely each weekend. Raging hormones and sexual energy drives propelled by too much alcohol, weed, and blow frequently erupting into chaos. Two, it’s the beginning of many of a young man’s and woman’s adult life. All this variety makes me happy. It’s like Telegraph Ave. in Berkeley, street bums freshly arrived into town from corn fields in Iowa and cow pastures in North Dakota. Hitched a train here, there’s not much of a Dinkytown Uprising anymore. It’s not the 1960’s. That’s largely been squelched by the Instagram selfie and the Snapchat filter. Take a selfie with a singing street urchin on your way to the Kitty Cat Klub, it’s cheaper than Honey!

     One can be cynical and turn your nose up to it all, the absurdity of young adulthood in a “typical college town” in American in 2017, but not me. For me, it’s an opportunity for a psychic restart. Repping out my fifth set of squats last night at Los Campeones I seriously joked with my iron brother about the identity of place and how strong I feel it influences my overall state of mind. A move from Uptown to Dinkytown is a move from a bougie hood with overpriced condominiums and shitty trendy ‘Merican bars to a place where street bums squatting on the sidewalk brighten my day. It’s subtle. I once verbally fought three cops, almost getting arrested last year, in front of the Uptown Apple Store who were sweeping the street clean of a drunk depressed African-American man in front. He was “bad for business.” One less $700 iPhone sold with each of his prayerful swigs of Colt 45. GOD IN HEAVEN IF YOU ARE REAL MAKE IT STOP! As on Telegraph, in Dinktown the kindness of youth patronizes the lives of the homeless, drunk, and destitute. They might be depressed or schizophrenic. The Dinkytown young might not know the difference, but I do. I know, not that I’ve been there exactly. I mean I did have a car to live in, but that line is thin and now I see this from a different place. I am not that old, but my iron brother said “you have a young energy.”

     I always notice her walk in. Sometimes she smiles, and most of the times he grimaces. I smile back and laugh. Next door, I saw the man who dances in cowboy boots and a gothed out skirt at Ground Zero every Saturday night at Bondage-A-Go-Go. I laughed when he said, “I live downtown but come here to feel young.” I said so do I, but I live here, and I am young. I live here to play, and to sit in The Bookhouse to gorge on poetry and Heidegger. It’s like Moe’s Books on Telegraph. It’s not that far away where I was Benjamin and she was Mrs. Robinson in the film The Graduate:

  Mrs. Robinson: Benjamin, I am not trying to seduce you.
Benjamin: I know that, but please, Mrs. Robinson, this is difficult…
Mrs. Robinson: Would you like me to seduce you?
Benjamin: What?
Mrs. Robinson: Is that what you’re trying to tell me?
Benjamin: I’m going home now. I apologize for what I said. I hope you can forget it,         but I’m going home right now.

      Those memories are fresh, but distant here. Mrs. Robinson and I used to dance tango at the Loring Pasta Bar. We used to get pizza at Meza afterwards, but we did not live here in a Dinkytown hovel. The sense of belonging to a place is very strong and is where many of the recent conversations I have had lead. What does it mean to be a self-actualized being? I think, only many years later, it is to know where you come from. It is to know your bloodline and DNA. Not in some kind of fascistic Trumpian way, rather in a way that erases “whiteness” and populates it with diversity. You could be Irish, and be traumatized from a history with the British. You might be a W.A.S.P., traumatized by the pressures of your money and privilege. Religion is here, ethnicity of faith. Peace in the Holy Land, that land of deep passion, good and bad, can be had here over a bowl of hummus and pita at Wally’s Falafel and Hummus. I saw while living in Uptown in Jerusalem: A Cookbook the following:

  Hummus is everybody’s favorite food in Jerusalem, and when you talk about               something that is so common to everybody but in a place that’s so highly divided in    many ways, it is already a formula for explosion in many ways. Everybody wants to    take ownership of that plate of hummus, both Jews and Arabs, and when this argument  starts, there’s no end to it…

     You could be Jewish-American and not sure what it means to be Orthodox or reformed. You could be Turkish-American and not sure what it means to not know your mother tongue or faith, but feel that you don’t quite fit here despite being here. There’s only one way to know who you are here, but I can’t name it. I cannot put it into language. Words elude me. It’s in the silence of place itself. It might be to find the trace of your childhood in the ordinary spaces that populate your mundane day. The subtle ways we relate to homogeneity with difference. Asserting our individuality and identity as a rebellion against a bleach that seeks to turn everything the same. This might be the key to creativity and love today for me. I cannot speak for anyone else. I’ll just observe and pray, meditate on these small moments. Another smile and another meal. One more day at work, on and on. To what end I don’t know, but I am alive and thankful for it. I always notice her walk in, and offer a smile.

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IBM Watson Analysis of my Blog’s Posts from the First Month at Princeton Theological Seminary: A Prelude to an App/Web Based Art Therapy Online Platform for Poetry

Spreadsheet of Raw Data.

Spreadsheet of raw outputs from IBM Watson Tone Analyzer analysis of each blog post from my blog writing in August 2012 at Princeton Theological Seminary. Watson breaks down writing into three attributes: emotion, language style, and social tendency. Expand the table to view the entire output.

No one has ever written, painted, sculpted, modeled, built, or invented except literally to get out of hell.”

  • Antonin Artaud

So far in the proceedings of this Medium page, I have written out what was troubling me regarding the end of my relationship with my wife and how the recent fragmentation with the relationship with Yana brought back many of those old memories. I have avoided thinking about “being productive” and “moving on” because I wanted to learn what was perhaps a source of why these relationships did not work out. For a couple months, I’d write poems in the place I was at and try to capture how that environment made me feel with words as well as place into language the sentiments and feelings that came with that place. The Artaud quote above is a favorite, as it simply states the reasons why we create anything as people. What I have been driven to in conversation after conversation recently is how much in common we all have with each other. We all suffer, and what binds us together is the language we use to relate. Language broadly defined. What you say and write, as well as the clothes you wear, the body language you use, and even the perfume or deodorant you put on.

How we attract or repel each other is very similar to the way that atoms make and/or break bonds. As a chemist, I see it that way. For eight years, I have wandered in my life. Mourning the loss of the ability to do academic chemistry at a high level, I entered years of rollercoaster ups and downs. All the while in this walk though I was learning something. I gathered a lot of first hand experiences about how the “real world” works outside the confines of elite academics and learned a great deal about how people like to engage each other and higher and lower things. A common theme that appears over and over is that art and creativity, individuality and personal expression are very important to most people. I started finding a lot of hope and guidance in poetry and music. Visual arts and dance too, all formed central ways that I started to relate to people in new ways. I started a fairly regular habit of blogging several times a week and that eventually became a place where I would share poems and other ideas that came to me.

About a year ago, I started to pay attention to the release of commercial artificial intelligence software (AI). I imagined that it might be an interesting tool to use to merge the two sides of my personality, artist and scientist. I started wondering if I could see trends in the nature of my writing from my blog during particular phases and times. In a broader sense, I wonder if AI as applied to language analysis can be used by people to detect trends in mood and mental state that might go undetected due to lack of resources for a formal therapist or psychoanalyst. In just the brief analysis of my first month’s posts from my blog in seminary I noticed that anger and fear are the predominate emotions in the writing. It is a deep interest of mine to continue to analyze the posts of my blog and compare the outputs on IBM Watson to the writings of other poets and writers. I’d be curious to see if there are trends in writers who have died via suicide to those who lived full lives to an old age. In this investigation, the confessional poets of the 50’s and 60’s are of great interest. Furthermore, I am interested in comparisons to artists of other racial groups and cultures. Trap music lyrics immediately come to mind.

I am thinking of turning this Medium into a data science and poetry blog as a prelude to making tools, apps and websites, for teaching people how to write in a therapeutic way and eventually invite them into a conversation. It’s an “interesting” (terrifying) brave new world that we face where AI’s might be used to psychologically profile people electronically. Many people at places like MIT seem to love the idea, see this recent Technology Review article. A friend from Atlanta who has a brother with schizophrenia recently started NeuroLex.

His startup uses voice samples to “diagnose” states such as psychosis. He is on the right track. However, my approach is different than his. He desires to install machine learning/AI voice analysis devices into mental health care facilities. My desire is to give people the tools to avoid entering into these mental health care facilities in the first place. My greatest fear of AI is not of the technology itself, it is of it’s ability to oppress and control people who suffer from conditions that might appear to an AI as “mentally ill.” I “came out of the closet” pretty much immediately after I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder I in 2010 at MIT and have learned a great deal about how people with mental illnesses are viewed, and feared. Jim is doing a good thing, but it’s opposite in the way it should be done. Where is his brother in all this, in the video why is not his brother there? Anyhow, next post will be data visualizations of the data in the spreadsheet along with more analysis of poems from me and others.

Gotta go! Peace 🙂

Just for fun, an IBM Watson Tone Analyzer of the text of this post:

Look, JOY! 🙂 ❤ Clearly, I’m onto something in terms of a good path in life with this. It’s fun to me!

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Lil Wayne

Lil Wayne

“Get a new rollie and go out and skate
Billionaire looking my way I’m on pace
Feeling like Donald Trump back in the day
Don’t beef with no rapper it’s a money race”
– Migos, Bars

The prophets stack cans on shelves not dollars like hustlas on Wall Street in tha Valley or in tha trap,
Trap,
Migos say, “I stack and pray and I stay out the way
It’s a good day today, I’ma pour me an eight,”
They honest, black lives matter, but Lil Wayne the only one,
These guys my anti-heroes, characters in a play,
My kiddies runnin’ off a cliff before they even grown, LHHS schoolin’ ’em in hustlin’,

…to be continued…

I weaponize my lyrics, make an ice breaker and cut a path through ice,
From left to right, same old b.s., crooked Hillary and Il Duce,
Anyone who wants to join the resistance hit me up,
I’m throwing out life lines, useless poetic written on a phone like a Foxconn Chinese assembly line,

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My Old Black Dog

My Old Black Dog
There’s a triangle on the wall, a mirror, and La Pieta,

A black man with dreams scowls from the wall,

My feet are warmed by a fire, it’s a grey melancholy day,

Scott Seekins walks by, the one famous Minneapolis artist,
He’s dressed in white, it’s spring, but the fire says otherwise,

I haven’t written a poem in months, I’ve been asleep,

I’ve been asleep for months, waking moments in bed,

Half asleep living in a social media and Internet induced haze,
Afraid of intimacy, afraid of the ups and downs of my love,

I sleep to avoid turmoil, emotions, and thought living in my bed,

Waking for coffee, getting out of the house is a triumph,

If only to change venue, to be around other coffee shop warriors,
For all I know we share more than I know, I mean the fire is warm,

My brain keeps pounding me to find work, not sure where,

Where to start, I mean I’m under snow, awaiting court,

Afraid of rejection, afraid of mania, dear God in heaven,
If you are the broken man in Mother Mary’s lap give me peace,

No one asks to be born, no one asks for any of it, I can’t pray,

I sleep, in my dreams perhaps work is being done, 

My father visited me yesterday in a dream, waking tears and sobs.

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