Reading · Conversations By The Sea

I’ve been having a tricky time. Despite what regular readers might believe, I do have some personal boundaries, so I won’t go into the details of what’s been going on, but what I do want to talk about this week is living through discomfort.

I guess this is a companion piece to the one I wrote a couple of weeks ago about how I believe the rise of Generative AI is undermining our ability to struggle, and why struggling will always be part of human existence.

The title of this newsletter refers to an episode of Rick and Morty where Rick provides the Smith family with a bunch of blue aliens to help fulfil their every need.

Mr Meeseeks lives a short life with one goal: solve a problem.

Like a mayfly in spring, as soon as he’s done his time, poof! He’s gone.

One poor Meeseeks is brought in to help improve Morty’s dad, Jerry's, golf game, which turns out to be a much harder task than originally thought. During this time, Mr Meeseeks becomes visibly distressed.

Being alive without performing his intended purpose is, quite literally, causing him to suffer.

Obviously, this is an animated comedy series, but I think about it all the time. Not least because I am a Jerry superfan, but also because being a Meeseeks seems so simple (even if it does come with some suffering).

It sounds kind of appealing.

Maybe not the dying bit; I know I said I was having a hard time, but I haven’t gone full nihilist quite yet. But the idea of having something concrete to do, and the satisfaction of knowing that’s all you have to do.

For us humans, it’s not quite as simple. Sure, capitalist society tells us we have roles to play and tasks to complete, and our dopamine receptors love this call-and-response. It’s what keeps us going.

But sometimes, just sometimes… I have these brief moments where I think: “What’s the point of any of this?”

Obviously, the first thing I do is check my period tracking app and realise I am in my luteal phase. But even then, it’s a tricky question to navigate (and maybe one you never think about, in which case, good for you.)

I don’t mean this in a suicidal ideation way. I don’t want this to come across the wrong way. I do want to be alive.

I mean it in a whole “why bother?” way. Because, well, when you’re in those times of your life where suffering overtakes the good times, it can become very difficult to see the wood for the trees.

I’ve had plenty of times like this in my life, including during my mam’s short illness and subsequent passing, plus a rocky postpartum period and ongoing divorce.

Over time, I’ve developed coping mechanisms for these times, usually involving a heavy reliance on consuming art and media, to try and replenish my ‘hope’ stocks that daily life is draining at an alarming rate.

This weekend, I was in Edinburgh dogsitting for Michelle | Specky Scribbler and after exhausting little Bran, I headed into town to the National Gallery to see my favourite paintings. I go here all the time, so I’ve got my route down to a fine art (forgive the pun).

So, anyway, on Sunday, I was standing in front of The Big Trees by Paul Cézanne and I had such an overwhelming feeling of “oh, this is the point.” I see this painting all the time, I have a print of it in my house. I’m not a clever art person, so I don’t even know the context of its cultural relevancy beyond what I know about Cézanne’s role in the Impressionist movement.

The Big Trees by Paul Cezanne, an impressionist painting with rough brush strokes of a few trees and blue and green foliage and sky.

What I do know is that looking at art like this, alongside other paintings in the gallery like A Point In Time by William Johnstone (a particular favourite of mine) and Wandering Shadows by Peter Graham, makes me feel something. Even if I can’t put a word on the feeling. It’s a feeling that’s nothing, and that’s something… right? (I’m confusing myself now).

A further extension of this is the pure serotonin rush of listening to music, and being able to experience something that another human being has created.

It’s a tangible feeling. The antithesis of AI-generated art. This reminds me of Alice Rowan’s recent piece on the feeling of grief many of us are experiencing when witnessing AI art.

She writes:

Every time I see AI-generated content, be it music, images, video, or writing, I feel so many different things. None of them good. When it’s from someone I don’t know, I feel frustrated and angry and fed up with the seeing the same old shit.
When it’s someone I do know personally, I feel an overwhelming sadness. When a friend tells me they asked ChatGPT or someone I respected posts the latest AI garbage trend on social media, I feel an instant loss.

Now this perfectly encapsulates it for me. And, by extension, proves that the fulfilment and ‘purpose’ we can derive from life will only come from art and connection created by and for other human beings.

Because only other human beings (and Meeseeks, of course) truly know what it means to suffer.

Animated GIF from Rick and Morty showing two Meeseeks blue aliens playing golf and one of them is really stressed.

Existence is pain to a Meeseeks, Jerry.

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