THe faces depression: As reported by The Cut, individuals are turning to AI to crack escape room puzzles and manipulate trivia nights. Is this not the essence of spoiling one’s enjoyment? “It’s akin to entering a corn maze with the intent of taking a straight path to the exit,” remarked a TikToker featured in the article. There are conversations with passionate readers who rely on ChatGPT to substitute book clubs and source “enlightening opinions and perspectives.” Everything was pleasant until a character’s demise disrupted the fantasy saga he was savoring (though, in truth, that seems rather grim).

Conversely, Substack appears to be filled with AI-produced essays. This New Blog platform is a vibrant hub for passionate creators to showcase their writings. Handing that off to a bot feels like peak absurdity. Will Storr, who delves into storytelling, examines this unexpected trend and its implications. In his own Substack, he discusses the phenomenon of “impersonal universalism,” wherein grand statements may sound profound but fall flat. “Insight possesses a universality akin to white noise, wrapped in an unsettling vagueness that can cloud our thoughts,” he observes.

I find it puzzling how anyone can derive pleasure from using extensive language models (LLMs) to appear vaguely “intelligent” or engage in AI-altered hobbies. Yet, I believe this isn’t an existential threat posed by AI. It is crucial that we savor our experiences. Let robots take our jobs, but they shouldn’t steal our joy. I’m not here to dictate how others should find pleasure—I’m no authority on fun. If I were to teach you, it might very well come across like an AI-generated Substack (embracing nature, chatting with strangers, enjoying moments with loved ones). Yet, I often reflect on what genuinely makes me feel alive, as I seek to engage more in those activities. It becomes a personal defense against “impersonal universality.”

First up: singing. While I wish AI could concoct melodic canons and create ethereal robot madrigals, it cannot replicate the whimsical joy of my quirky choir made up of very special individuals. We may not be the most skilled vocalists, but when we harmonize, we share a deep sense of connection (research indicates that group singing fosters bonding) quick social bonding). Occasionally, everything aligns for fleeting moments of breathtaking beauty, humbly guided by our choir director, silently matching a chef’s kiss. Regardless, it remains delightful.

Next, let’s discuss not my own but someone else’s experiences. I find endless inspiration in the unique artifacts people treasure, acquire, and eventually discard. My regular visits to York’s weekly car boot sale reveal a captivating blend of stuffed badgers, Power Rangers merchandise, fishing gear, and a ceramic mouse in Victorian attire. More noble collectibles might include the textiles featured in Renaissance paintings: garments, tapestries, and drapes. Recently, I spent an exhilarating 10 minutes at The Frick Collection in New York, immersed in an astonishingly vacant room while studying Holbein’s Portrait of Thomas More, contemplating the feel of his fur collar and red velvet sleeves, pondering his choices.

A substantial portion of my joy stems from simply being present in nature. I stroll, dig in the soil, observe wildlife (yes, that includes birds), but predominantly, as a lifelong introvert, my delight comes from people. If I had to identify my most reliable source of happiness, it would be wandering through a new city, soaking in the lives of its inhabitants. What do they wear, consume, and discuss? What triggers their anger? What kind of dogs accompany them? It’s an endless buffet of human experience, from toddler tantrums to tender moments of affection to the play of queue dynamics. Recently, I watched the documentary *I Am Martin Parr*, which showcases a photographer adept at capturing the nuances of British life, likened to a magpie, and he resonates with this sentiment. Now in his seventies, Parr is still eager to explore and document the marvelous and strange nuances of society. He declares, “I’m still thrilled to venture out and observe this chaotic world we inhabit.”

That is my secret. AI can offer a rote summary of who we are, but it mixes all our hues into a muddy shade. It cannot encapsulate the joy of something utterly unique.