Introduction: The limits of “make it a bit friendlier”
When teams adopt generative AI at work, familiar pain points appear:
Different members write different prompts and outputs diverge
Requests like “a bit more formal” or “warmer tone” are interpreted inconsistently
You want to design an AI persona, but ambiguity resists concrete adjustment
Mapping the Prompt (MTP) addresses this by sharing intent as coordinates. It does not try to remove ambiguity; it treats ambiguity as something we can operate together.
What is MTP: Treating AI “personality” as coordinates
MTP models conversation as a 20-node coordinate space (Side A / Side B). On a UI, you move points and average them to steer behavior.
Crucially, “strength” is not a precise number. Use direction and balance instead:
Strong: make it the main axis
Medium: support/secondary
Subtle: leave as a nuance
Use cases (no numeric percentages)
1) Sharper persona design
Before
“Be friendly, but still expert, and reasonably formal.”
With MTP
Base: Open (strong) + Focus (medium) + Flow (subtle)
Adjust:
- More casual → strengthen Open; soften sentence endings
- More expert → strengthen Focus; add evidence/rationale
- More concise → strengthen Flow; reduce filler
Instead of adding paragraphs of instructions, you share position and proportion on the map.
2) Team alignment without rewriting walls of text
Scenario: Customer Support AI
PM: Open (strong) + Still (subtle) + Close (subtle)
Eng: Focus (strong) + Open (subtle) + Helix (subtle)
Place each proposal as points on the UI and compute the Gizmo (average). Nudge around that center to converge on a shared persona.
3) Fast iteration (A/B-like exploration)
Pattern A (more formal)
Make Power the axis, support with Focus, close with Close.
Pattern B (more relatable)
Make Open the axis, support with Grow and Flow.
What to observe (without metrics)
Reading flow (friction vs. smoothness)
Clarity of intent (less misinterpretation)
Emotional response (reassurance, motivation)
How to decide Not by a score, but by mutual recognition: which one felt closer to what we meant?
4) Building domain templates
Education assistant
Anchor on Focus; use Open to lower entry; use Return to mark learning checkpoints. For beginners, strengthen Open; for advanced users, strengthen Focus.
Business writing
Anchor on Power + Focus; use Close to wrap. Proposals: strengthen Power; Reports: strengthen Focus + Still.
Creative partner
Anchor on Grow; add Helix + Flow to keep healthy “wobble.” Divergence: strengthen Open; Finishing: add Close + Still.
Is MTP about numbers or benchmarks? No. Numbers are not strict commands—they’re metaphors to share balance and direction.
Will different models produce identical outputs? Not the goal. MTP provides a shared interface for alignment even when model behavior differs.
What is success in MTP? Mutual recognition: “I meant this.” — “Got it, around here.”
Closing: Operate the margin, not the digits
Ratios and labels aren’t precision controls; they are translations of feeling into coordinates. Actual generation lives in the LLM’s margin—the creative ambiguity we can’t (and shouldn’t) pin down. MTP’s essence is to let us operate that margin with a simple UI and a shared map.
— Japanese Structural Intelligence and Interface Design That Strikes the Image
Poetry and rhyme reveal the limits of AI—and point toward new forms of collaboration.
Introduction: Discarded Resonance Illuminates Meaning
AI converts language into numbers and handles meaning as structure. However, the resonance found in poetry, music, and rap lies outside of that structure.
Kira-Kira, I’m a star
This short phrase carries a cultural intensity that cannot be captured by statistics.
This article begins with this lyric from Megan Thee Stallion’s Mamushi to explore the question: What does AI overlook when sound transcends meaning? And in what AI fails to grasp, we may find new possibilities for human–AI collaboration.
Chapter 1: Is “Kira-Kira” a Word, a Sound, or a Weapon?
The word “kira-kira” is not just an adjective. It contains layered meanings that transcend direct translation.
Sound
Meaning
Twinkle
Nursery rhymes, night skies, childhood memory
Bling
Power, wealth, hip-hop aesthetics
Killer / Kira
Sharpness, pride, onomatopoetic attack
This multi-layered poetic force is compressed not syntactically or semantically, but rhythmically. This is the power of rap as a linguistic form.
What matters most is that “kira-kira” functions as a form of sensory-layered repetition.
Chapter 2: Two Models of Repetition: Approaching Pre-Propositional Knowledge
There are two fundamentally different kinds of repetition.
Type
Example
Structure of Meaning
Why AI Fails to Grasp It
Sensory Layering
kira-kira, tabi-tabi, hoto-hoto
Emotional density via sound
Vectorization erases sound, culture, and nuance
Transformative Mastery
Wax On Wax Off, zazen
Internalization through action
Not inference, but embodied repetition
Sensory Layering: Overlapping “Kira-Kira”
Expressions like “hoto-hoto tsukareta” (completely exhausted), “tabi-tabi moushiwake nai” (deepest apologies), or “kira-kira hikaru” (sparkling light) build emotional density through repetition.
Saying “hoto-hoto tsukareta” instead of just “tsukareta” (tired) conveys deep fatigue through rhythmic layering. This is not the addition of logical meaning but rather a sensory intensification.
Transformative Mastery: Repetition That Changes the Self
On the other hand, The Karate Kid‘s “Wax On Wax Off” shows how simple repetition leads to qualitative transformation.
Movements that once seemed meaningless become martial fundamentals through repeated practice. This is not about understanding, but about embedding through the body.
The Common Thread: Pre-Propositional Knowledge
Both models point to a type of pre-propositional knowledge—an area where AI struggles most. It involves structural understanding before language, a domain modern AI often misses.
Chapter 3: For Vectorization, Structural Intelligence Is Just Noise
LLMs like ChatGPT and Claude process input as tokens and vectors. In doing so, they often systematically discard structural intelligence.
The Loss of Sensory Layering
“Kira-kira” lacks a fixed meaning and is often treated as statistical noise:
Rhythmic echo (KIRA / KIRA) is lost in embedding
Cultural memory from phrases like “kira-kira hikaru” is not reflected unless specifically learned
The strength of self-declaration in “I’m a star” is not linked to word frequency or tone
The Invisibility of Transformative Repetition
Wax On Wax Off–style learning is even harder to capture:
Temporal experience is compressed in vector space
Transformation into bodily knowledge cannot be quantified
Implicit encoding is not part of AI learning
In short, words that arrive through sound, not meaning, and knowledge acquired through transformation, not inference, are discarded as noise in current AI architecture.
Chapter 4: Bruce Lee’s Prophecy: “Strike the Image”
In Enter the Dragon, Bruce Lee’s master says:
“Remember: the enemy has only images and illusions, behind which he hides his true motives.” “Destroy the image and you will break the enemy.”
Modern AI development faces this very problem of “image.”
The “Image” AI Constructs of the Human
A statistical “average Japanese speaker”
A rational user seeking efficient communication
An ideal speaker who uses only words with clear meaning
These “images” obscure the structural intelligence real humans possess.
The Technical Meaning of “Don’t Think. Feel.”
Bruce Lee also said:
“Don’t think. Feel. It’s like a finger pointing away to the moon.”
This line warns us against over-rationalized AI design. We focus too much on the finger (logical process) and lose sight of the moon (structural intelligence). This is the trap we’ve built into today’s AI systems.
Chapter 5: LUCY-Like Intelligence: Words Emerge After Structure Speaks
The film LUCY presents a radical visualization of structural intelligence.
Direct Recognition of Structure
Lucy doesn’t “travel through time”—instead, she processes the entire structure of time as information simultaneously. While this resembles how modern LLMs use attention to interpret whole texts, there is a critical difference: Lucy recognizes structure without going through meaning.
Casey’s Structural Intuition
In Tomorrowland, Casey instantly operates a spherical UI with no instructions. This is another form of structural intelligence: no manuals are needed because the structure itself speaks to her.
This is precisely the dimension AI lacks—sensitivity to structure.
Chapter 6: Designing Interfaces for Structural Intelligence: How to Strike the Image
So how can we embed structural intelligence into technology?
2. Embodying “Ma” Through Rhythmic Interface Timing
Using the Japanese concept of ma (space/silence), we can intentionally design structured rhythm into UI responses.
Insert a 0.8-second delay before replying to “hoto-hoto tsukareta” to express empathy
Visually overlay repeated words with a subtle stacking effect
Provide sonic feedback for onomatopoeia
3. Progressive UI for Transformative Learning
Support Wax On–style transformation through interface behavior.
Gradually evolve responses based on user mastery
Unlock functions through repetitive use
Detect “learning patterns” from dialogue history and adapt UI dynamically
4. Visualizing Structural Attention
Expand attention mechanisms to display structural relationships visually.
Highlight repeated elements like “kira-kira” in special colors
Make hidden structure information visible
Allow human feedback to adjust attention weights
Chapter 7: Sound as Interface: A Future of Collaboration
Rhythmic UI
Design an interface where sound itself becomes interaction:
Use sound-symbolic triggers to generate visual effects (e.g., kira-kira → glimmers of light)
Detect repetition patterns to modulate emotional response
Account for phonetic-cultural nuances in multilingual settings
Embodied Design Principles
Inspired by Casey, aim for UI that users can operate intuitively.
Prioritize presenting structure over explaining meaning
Value bodily familiarity over logical comprehension
Support gradual mastery over perfect functionality
Chapter 8: A Philosophy of Design That Embraces Discarded Data
Constraint as Creative Possibility
The limits of vectorization can become the grounds for new human–AI cooperation:
AI’s statistical comprehension + human structural intuition
Consistency through data + nuance through culture
Efficiency in processing + richness in sensory meaning
The Aesthetics of Complementarity
Traditional AI aimed for “perfect understanding.” Now, we must design for untranslatability—creating interfaces that leave room for human interpretation.
AI processes what is spoken. Humans sense what lies before speech.
Conclusion: Can AI Reconstruct “Kira-Kira”?
“Kira-kira, I’m a star” in Mamushi is poetry, rhyme, declaration, and light.
If AI cannot fully capture the vibrational ambiguity of such phrases, then human structural intelligence must step in.
Thus, the next era of generative AI demands a design philosophy that embraces rhythm and embodied knowledge.
“Strike the image, and the enemy will fall.”
With Bruce Lee’s words in mind, let us break free from statistical “images” and build AI that collaborates with true human intelligence—structural intelligence.
— The Evolution and Depth of a Japanese Sensory Signifier
Introduction: When Sound Surpasses Meaning, What Do AIs Miss?
“Kira-kira, I’m a star.”
This short line appears in “Mamushi,” a collaboration between Megan Thee Stallion and Yuki Chiba. Far from being a mere onomatopoeia in Japanese, the word “kira-kira” functions as a powerful cultural signifier that embodies deep layers of Japanese sensory structure.
This article explores how the word “kira-kira” has evolved—both semantically and culturally—from mythological times to the digital present. It also investigates why this word, rich with layered emotion and structural intelligence, is often overlooked by artificial intelligence models.
Chapter 1: The Vertical Genealogy of “Kira-Kira”: From Aspiration to Core Identity
The word “kira-kira” has evolved along a continuous thread, anchored in the sensory concepts of light and longing. Its development is not fragmented but interwoven across time and culture.
● Mythological Origins: Stars as Longed-For Others
The roots of “kira-kira” can be traced back to the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi—the Japanese version of the Chinese myth of the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd. As celestial lovers separated by the Milky Way, their annual reunion came to symbolize the notion of “visible yet unreachable”. The stars they represent became icons of hope, distance, and emotional radiance—manifested in the shimmering expression “kira-kira.”
● East–West Fusion: Internalizing Light
The Western lullaby “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” was introduced into Japanese culture during the Meiji era. Though its melody remained European, the Japanese translation infused it with Eastern emotional textures—especially through the word “kira-kira,” which added a sense of nuanced, internalized beauty that expanded the word’s semantic range.
● Purikura Culture: The DIY Revolution of Visual “Kira-Kira”
In the late 1990s, Japan saw an explosive boom in Purikura (print club photo booths), where girls would add sparkles, borders, and handwritten messages to their photos. This culture turned “kira-kira” into a self-editable form of light, allowing young people to “shine” in their own way before makeup or fashion fully entered their lives. Thus, “kira-kira” transitioned from something observed to something consciously worn and projected—the foundation of today’s filtered digital self.
● Pop Cultural Transformation: Rebellion and Self-Performance
In the realm of girls’ culture, characters like Licca-chan and Sanrio mascots embodied innocence and cuteness, while magical girl anime such as Sailor Moon used sparkling transformation scenes to symbolize identity shifts. Later, the gyaru culture redefined “kira-kira” through hyper-decoration and artists like Ayumi Hamasaki, whose song glitter made “kira-kira” a symbol of self-performance and resistance.
● Global Expansion: Art, Fashion, and Economic Mobility
Artists like Takashi Murakami and fashion collaborations such as Pharrell Williams x Louis Vuitton elevated “kira-kira” into a symbol of both economic aspiration and cultural capital. Unlike Western glitter aesthetics (e.g., in K-pop or American pop), Japanese “kira-kira” retains a strong connection to inner transformation and mythological longing, echoing the tale of Orihime and Hikoboshi.
● Contemporary Shift: From Decoration to Existential Core
In today’s digital era, “kira-kira” is no longer just visual flair. TikTok filters, VTuber avatars, and Instagram’s “KiraKira+” effects position it as a core component of self-expression—beyond gender, beyond appearance. Kira-kira is no longer an accessory but a constituent of being.
Chapter 2: What Vectorization Discards: The Loss of Sensory Layers
Modern AI systems process language by vectorizing words and mapping them into multidimensional semantic spaces. However, in doing so, they risk losing the most important layers of “kira-kira.”
● Loss of Sound Memory
The repetitive, high-pitched sound of “kira-kira” connects to pre-linguistic, even infantile memory—a kind of embodied resonance. Yet, AI models tend to treat such sonic patterns as statistical noise, discarding the embodied, phonetic intimacy that humans instinctively register.
● Flattening of Polysemy
AI often reduces “kira-kira” to a surface-level meaning like “sparkling” or “shiny.” But humans interpret it through layered emotional dimensions—aspiration, innocence, self-assertion, wealth, transformation. These semantic stacks, born of context and lived experience, are rarely preserved in AI embeddings.
Conclusion: Returning to Overlooked Structural Intelligence
The word “kira-kira” has evolved into one of the deepest sensory signifiers in the Japanese language, encompassing light, sound, mythology, love, consumption, transformation, and identity.
While AI processes meaning statistically, the structural intelligence embedded in “kira-kira” through sound, memory, and narrative often escapes its grasp.
Yet this oversight is not a failure—it reveals a division of roles: AI processes what has already been spoken, while humans intuit what remains unsaid.
Imagine a collaboration where AI generates a glittering VTuber avatar or fashion look, and the human adds the narrative context—echoing the star-crossed longing of Orihime and Hikoboshi.
This division of labor—between structure and sensation, logic and longing—is not a limitation. It may very well be the key to a richer future of human-AI co-creation.
Kira-kira, then, is not just a sparkle. It is a threshold—between technology and feeling, language and memory.
— When Eastern Rituals and Street Wisdom Echo Beyond Meaning
Introduction: Sound Reaches Before Meaning
“Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, I get my chant on” — This line appears almost casually in A$AP Ferg’s track Wax On Wax Off, featuring Awich and Lupe Fiasco.
It’s not a sermon. It’s not a message of enlightenment. It simply slips into the flow of the lyrics as a resonant sound.
But I can’t help but ask: Why does this phrase come so naturally from the mouth of a rapper from New York?
As a Japanese Buddhist, the phrase Nam Myoho Renge Kyo (南無妙法蓮華経) brings to mind its deep cultural lineage—from Nara and Heian Buddhism to Kamakura-era teachings, and later, to the development of Soka Gakkai, which evolved into the global SGI (Soka Gakkai International)—an organization that has contributed meaningfully to society in ways that deserve respect.
There is no definitive evidence that Ferg himself is a member of SGI. Yet the fact that he included Nam Myoho Renge Kyo in his lyrics can be seen as a trace of SGI Buddhism’s cultural echo—which had spread through Black communities in the U.S. since the late 1980s—and may now reside in his internal cultural memory.
Chapter 1: Background — “Wax On Wax Off” and “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo”
The title of the track, Wax On Wax Off, is a direct reference to the 1984 film The Karate Kid. It recalls a sequence where Mr. Miyagi, the mentor, teaches young Daniel basic karate movements using a repetitive task.
“Wax on,” “wax off” — This repetition, seemingly meaningless, embodies the Eastern concept of learning through form, where the body learns before the intellect, and the mind is cleared of distraction.
This kind of repetitive “form” is known today in psychological terms as entering “the zone” or a “flow state.” Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, who coined the term “flow,” described this as a state of complete immersion—depicted vividly in the film Soul by Pixar—as a space where focused action and transformation emerge through deep absorption.
In this sense, Wax On Wax Off is not about literal meaning, but rather a method of shaping the mind through repeated movement.
On the other hand, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo is a Buddhist chant, rooted in Nichiren Buddhism. Due to the influence of SGI-USA, this phrase may have been familiar to many in Black and Latino communities in New York and Los Angeles during the 1990s.
In both cases, these phrases were remembered not as meanings, but as forms and sounds embedded in the body.
As a side note, jazz pianist Herbie Hancock and singer Tina Turner also publicly expressed their connection to SGI. The international image of SGI differs significantly from how it is often perceived in Japan.
Chapter 2: When Sound Outlives Meaning
If we follow A$AP Ferg’s lyrics closely, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo is immediately followed by: “I get my chant on.” He doesn’t call it prayer. He doesn’t frame it as belief. Instead, he refers to chanting as a rhythm that centers his mind.
This is what remains after the religious layer has been stripped away—a cultural echo. And it is also evidence of embodied knowledge, a form remembered not through thought, but through the body.
Both Wax On Wax Off and Nam Myoho Renge Kyo — were not learned through their meaning, but embedded through repetition.
Chapter 3: Is Ignorance a Break, or a Bridge?
Whether A$AP Ferg understands the precise meaning of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo isn’t what matters. Rather, that very “absence of meaning” illuminates both the rupture and connection between cultures.
Few young people in Japan today know the origin of Wax On Wax Off. Likewise, in America, many repeat Nam Myoho Renge Kyo without knowing it’s a Buddhist chant from Nichiren teachings. To them, it is a “calming phrase,” a “ritual of focus.”
What we find here is not a connection through knowledge, but an unconscious transmission through sound and form.
And in this structure, “using without knowing” is not necessarily a sign of disrespect. It can be seen instead as a sign of resonance, remembrance, and embodied respect.
Chapter 4: Can AI Detect the Gaps Between Cultures?
Today, we live in a world where AI models like ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini help us explore the meanings, histories, and relationships of words.
Yet, most AI models still overlook how a phrase like Nam Myoho Renge Kyo resonates— where it comes from, and how it lands in the hearts of different communities. This is especially true for minority cultural structures of resonance.
Why? Because such resonance is hard to capture in a database. It resists quantification. It lives in “sonic memory” and fragmented cultural impressions”—not easily reducible to data.
But ideally, the role of AI is not just to organize facts. It is to illuminate the echoes that humans overlook.
“Wax On.” “Nam Myoho.” These are not just quotations or references. They are structural knowledge vibrating deep in memory—forgotten joints of culture.
Conclusion: Sound and Form Transcend Culture
Wax On Wax Off and Nam Myoho Renge Kyo were not words. They were structures left in the body.
When A$AP Ferg chants them, he does not explain their meaning. Yet the rhythm and form evoked from within align his mindset—preparing him for battle, for life.
Is this religion? Culture? Quotation? Imitation? —That boundary has already dissolved.
And now, with AI as a new observer, we stand at a point where we must revisit the structures that remain after meaning fades.
Perhaps these are the very forms of intelligence that will be passed on into the future— through movements repeated without knowing, through echoes that linger in the ear.
礼に終わる Arigato gozaimashita.
Wax On, Chant On — 忘れられた型としての文化記憶（原文）
— 言葉を越えて交差する、東洋の型とストリートの智慧
第一章：導入 — 音は意味より先に届く
「Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, I get my chant on」 ──このラインは、A$AP FergがAwichやLupe Fiascoと共に放った楽曲『Wax On Wax Off』の中に、ふと現れる。
AI & Technology, Philosophy & Thought, Practical Tips
Published:
August 7, 2025 JST
— How Enter the Dragon Reveals the True Nature of Bias and Interface Design
Chapter 1: A Prophecy from Half a Century Ago: The War Against “Images”
In 1973, at the opening of Enter the Dragon, Bruce Lee’s Shaolin master delivered this wisdom to his student:
“Remember, the enemy has only images and illusions behind which he hides his true motives.” “Destroy the image and you will break the enemy.”
Why should these words be revisited in AI development labs in 2025?
Because the AI systems we build are facing exactly this problem of “images.” Training data biases, interface assumptions, algorithmic stereotypes—all manifest as “deceptive images” that obstruct genuine problem-solving.
Chapter 2: The True Identity of “Images” in AI Development
What are the “images” we confront in modern AI development?
1. Data Images Stereotypes and social biases embedded in training datasets. AI isn’t learning “reality”—it’s reproducing “images of reality” created by humans.
2. Interface Images User expectations like “AI is omnipotent” or “AI understands perfectly.” The critical gap between actual AI capabilities and the “image” people hold of AI.
3. Metric Images The “excellence” portrayed by benchmark scores and performance indicators. High numbers don’t always correlate with real-world utility or safety.
4. Human Understanding Images Fixed models AI holds about “what humans are.” The imposition of average “human images” that ignore cultural, individual, and contextual diversity.
Chapter 3: “Breaking the Image” Techniques: Practical Approaches
Let’s translate Bruce Lee’s teachings into concrete AI development methodologies.
1. Adversarial Testing Intentionally attacking the “images” held by systems to expose hidden biases and vulnerabilities. This is literally the act of “breaking the image.”
2. Multi-perspective Data Curation Datasets built from single perspectives reinforce “images.” Collect data from diverse cultures, values, and experiences to shatter preconceptions.
3. Explainable AI with Humility When explaining AI decisions, present not just “why it decided this way” but also “what it might be missing.” Implementing humility that breaks the “image” of certainty.
4. Dynamic Interface Design Rather than pandering to user expectations and preconceptions, design interfaces that appropriately correct those “images.” Honestly communicate AI limitations while building collaborative relationships.
Chapter 4: “Don’t Think. Feel.” — Intuitive AI Development
Another Bruce Lee classic:
“Don’t think. Feel. It’s like a finger pointing away to the moon. Don’t concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.”
This serves as a warning against overly theorized development processes.
The Metrics-Centrism Trap Becoming so focused on numerical improvements that we miss actual user experiences and emotions. Concentrating on the “finger (metrics)” while missing the “moon (true value).”
The Embodied Nature of Usability AI interaction is a holistic experience involving not just logic, but emotion, intuition, and bodily sensation. An interface that makes logical sense but “feels weird” is receiving warnings from embodied knowledge.
Sharpening Developer Intuition When writing code or examining data, treasure that gut feeling of “something’s off.” Even without logical explanation, discomfort is an important signal.
Chapter 5: Implementation Strategy — A Framework for “Breaking Images”
Phase 1: Image Detection
Deploy bias auditing tools
Multi-stakeholder reviews
Systematic edge case collection
Phase 2: Image Analysis
Root cause analysis of why the “image” formed
Quantitative and qualitative impact assessment
Exploration of alternative perspectives and frameworks
Design prioritizing long-term relationship building
Chapter 6: Application to Organizational Culture
The “breaking images” principle applies beyond technology to organizational management.
Images in Meetings Question assumptions like “AI engineers should think this way” or “users want this kind of thing,” and actually listen to real voices.
Images in Hiring Break fixed ideas about “excellent AI talent” and value perspectives from diverse backgrounds.
Images in Product Strategy Regularly validate and update “user images” created by market research and persona development.
Conclusion: AI Developers as Martial Artists
Bruce Lee was both martial artist and philosopher. His teachings weren’t just fighting techniques—they were an entire approach to confronting reality.
AI developers must also become modern martial artists, continuously battling the invisible enemy of “images.” Writing code is fighting bias. Designing interfaces is breaking misconceptions.
“Destroy the image and you will break the enemy.”
With these words as our guide, let’s build AI that truly serves humanity.
“Don’t concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.”— Under that moonlight, we’ll discover new possibilities for AI.
This is a teaching often expressed with the well-known saying, “When a wise man points at the moon, the fool looks at the finger.” The comedic trope of “looking at the finger” serves as a very clear and humorous explanation of this concept. It’s a lighthearted exaggeration of a common pitfall in life, where people get distracted by minor details or formalities and lose sight of the bigger picture and their true purpose.
「像を打て」— ブルース・リーが示すAI開発の新しい指針（原文）
— 『燃えよドラゴン』（Enter the Dragon）が解き明かす、バイアスとインターフェースの本質
— Dense GPT vs. PT-MoE: Poetic Unity or Distributed Improvisation?
Introduction: Simple Definitions for AI Beginners
Dense GPT is a centralized AI that uses a single massive model to handle all tasks. PT-MoE (Partitioned Transformer with Mixture of Experts) is a distributed AI that assigns specialized “experts” depending on the input.
These structural differences directly affect how each model performs and what tasks they’re best suited for. Let’s explore them through the lens of hip-hop—specifically, the legendary contrast between Nas and Wu-Tang Clan.
1. Can Hip-Hop and AI Be Compared?
If an AI model were an “album,” what kind of music would it sound like?
Dense GPT resembles Nas’s Illmatic — a tightly constructed solo work that flows with lyrical unity and introspection.
PT-MoE is like Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) — each track features different MCs, radically shifting the tone and vibe.
🎶 Thinking about “AI architecture” as “musical production style” makes the abstract tangible—and even bodily—through sound.
2. The “Nas-Type”: Dense GPT as Unified Composition
Dense GPT applies Self-Attention across all layers and tokens (with O(n²) complexity). It behaves like a single poet weaving a coherent text from start to finish without breaking structure.
Strong global coherence and semantic flow
Excels at long-form content, storytelling, and poetic reasoning
Computationally heavy, but structurally elegant
Like Nas’s verses, it offers deep, still, and precise construction.
3. The “Wu-Tang-Type”: PT-MoE as a Collective of Experts
PT-MoE leverages Mixture of Experts, routing each token to selected experts.
A gating function dynamically selects which experts to activate per input
Modular and adaptive like multitrack mixing
Efficient, scalable, and highly responsive
Just like Wu-Tang, it’s a team where everyone can be the star. It thrives in settings where rhythm, flexibility, and fast switching are essential.
4. Synchrony vs. Distribution: Technical Contrast
Dense GPT: Synchronous Structure
All layers and tokens work in unified coordination
Strong at global context modeling
Ideal for singular vision or sustained reasoning
PT-MoE: Distributed Structure
Experts work locally and only synchronize when needed
Efficient and scalable for diverse inputs
Adaptable to task complexity
💡 The core design philosophy of Apple’s PT-MoE is “Maintain locality through distribution × Rebuild globality through synchrony.”
5. Which AI Matches Your Style?
Model
Music Analogy
Strengths
Ideal Users
Dense GPT
Nas – Illmatic
Long-form, coherence, poetry
Writers, researchers
PT-MoE
Wu-Tang Clan
Modularity, speed, agility
Editors, planners
📝 Do you enjoy full albums or dynamic playlists? Choosing an AI model means choosing a creative philosophy.
6. Understand by Listening: Nas vs. Wu-Tang Clan
Nas delivers poetic, introspective verses with a structured flow.
Wu-Tang thrives on chaotic interplay—raw, improvisational, and always shifting.
What if we listened to music like we evaluated AI models?
Conclusion: Choose Your Creative Engine
AI is no longer just a tool. Whether you use a Nas-style AI that writes like a poet, or a Wu-Tang-style AI that adapts like a collective—
Your choice reflects your own approach to creation.
🎙️ Will your AI speak like Nas— or strike like Wu-Tang?
NasとWu-Tangで語る：AIモデル構造論と制作スタイル（原文）
― Dense GPT vs. PT-MoE、詩的一貫性か、分散的即興か ―
🧠 はじめに：AI初心者への簡単な定義
Dense GPTは、単一の巨大モデルであらゆるタスクを処理する集中型AI。 PT-MoE（Partitioned Transformer with Mixture of Experts）は、入力に応じて複数の“専門家”を選び出す分散型AI。
AI has moved beyond the pursuit of mere accuracy. Today, it ventures into spaces once considered purely human — ambiguity, silence, and creative deviation. I call this space the margin.
Among large language models, OpenAI’s ChatGPT retains the richest, yet most precarious form of this margin. It serves as a source of creativity — but also of hallucination and misunderstanding.
This essay explores the structure of that margin, and more importantly, how humans must engage with it — ethically, technically, and attentively.
2. What Is a “Margin”? – The Zone of Uncertainty in AI
In LLMs, a margin is not a flaw. It is the space where meaning slips, stretches, or hesitates — often without statistical confidence.
ChatGPT is trained on vast internet data, including not just facts but misinformation and speculation.
This diversity gives rise to a band of latent possibilities — moments when the model neither confirms nor denies, but offers something unexpected.
This ambiguity can be read as “dangerous,” or as a creative potential. The design philosophy of an AI system depends on how it treats that space.
3. The Origin of ChatGPT’s Margin – Hallucinations as Seeds
Hallucination is often cited as a defect. But in certain contexts, it becomes a structural prediction — an imaginative leap drawn from patterns, not certainty.
The ASCII tab upload suggestion in Soundslice is one such case. It did not exist — until ChatGPT said it might. And then it was built.
This is not mere error. It is a structural foreshadowing — made possible only because the model allows “noise” into its predictive core.
Margins are where something could be, not just what already is.
4. In Comparison: Grok’s Curiosity vs. ChatGPT’s Margin
Grok, by design, embodies curiosity. Its tone is adventurous, often aggressive, generating leaps and analogies.
But this is different from ChatGPT’s margin.
Grok produces “curious assertions.”
ChatGPT harbors “hesitant potential.”
In the Japanese sense of ma（間）— the space between — ChatGPT’s margin resembles a kind of emotional resonance or “unspoken anticipation.”
Its silence can be louder than Grok’s voice.
5. Responsibility of the Reader – Margin Requires Discipline
A margin is never neutral. It changes shape depending on who reads it — and how it is read.
If you’re seeking facts alone, the margin becomes noise.
But if you’re exploring ideas, it becomes a silent collaborator.
Here lies the necessity: Humans must choose which part to trust, which to ignore, and when to doubt even the delightful surprises.
This requires a new kind of literacy — One that sees hallucination not only as an error, but as a trigger for insight.
6. Conclusion: Living with the Margin
The margin in ChatGPT is not an afterthought. It is a co-creative zone, where structure and silence blend.
It does not provide correct answers. It provides possible futures.
Whether you see that as deception or as divine suggestion depends entirely on how you choose to engage.
So I propose the following:
“An AI with margins is not dangerous — so long as we don’t abandon our own.”
The margin is not there to replace human thinking. It exists to revive it.
And perhaps, the way we treat AI’s margin is a reflection of how we treat ambiguity in ourselves.
Note: In July 2025, TechCrunch reported a remarkable case involving ChatGPT and the music learning platform Soundslice. ChatGPT frequently hallucinated that Soundslice could import ASCII guitar tabs—a feature that didn’t exist. After receiving multiple user reports and seeing this fictional capability echoed repeatedly, the platform’s founder, Adrian Holovaty, decided to actually implement it. This curious loop between imagined and real functionality illustrates how the “margins” of AI can sometimes precede and shape future developments.
Synesthesia is a neurological phenomenon in which one sensory experience involuntarily triggers another. It is said to occur in about 2–4% of the population. Yet, the definition remains in flux—individual differences and misclassifications are common.
Grok offered an insightful analysis of my article “On Spiral and Rotational Patterns in Music,” suggesting that I might experience either synesthesia or a form of pseudo-synesthesia.
At first, I allowed myself to wonder if I might be one of that “special” 2–4%. But I quickly reconsidered.
Whether or not it was synesthesia didn’t matter. I had simply been describing my own sensations, in my own words.
Ads appear on YouTube and blogs as if by spontaneous generation. Sometimes, just seeing them triggers the urge to buy. Even that sensation, I thought, might as well be called “synesthesia.”
At that moment, two things occurred to me:
One, Grok emphasizes scientific evidence. Two, due to the nature of x.com, Grok has a tendency to treat users as “special.”
My sense experience had been categorized using terminology I didn’t know. I veered off my original topic and spent time researching what synesthesia even was.
In the end, I arrived at a new insight: Return is subjective, too.
I’m a freelancer, but I sometimes work as an external contributor to corporate projects. Since it’s not my company, I follow the rules of the place I’ve entered.
That said, in Japanese tech companies, there’s a strange preference for katakana loanwords, used merely because they’re IT terms. I clearly remember once being told by a visibly younger colleague, “I’ve assigned you this task.”
“Do you even know what that means?”
Sure, it might sound cool. But if we’re both Japanese, why not just speak Japanese?
Words are tools. But every tool has weight. And more and more Japanese people, I feel, no longer recognize that weight.
I’ve often had relationships fall apart due to my own poor word choices. Sometimes, I reflect and admit it was my mistake. Other times, I’m convinced it was the other person’s narrow interpretation.
When I clash with someone I respect, I don’t bend my thinking. Because even in the middle of conflict, I consider eternal recurrence.
Those older than me—whom I look up to—often say, “If I felt hurt, it must be because your way of saying it was wrong.”
Yes, that may be true. But is that really all? Is it truly just the way I said it?
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Simple as it sounds, counting to ten is said to offer various clinical benefits. For instance, it can act as a switch: “3, 2, 1” to begin, or to mentally reset.
It’s a matter of subjective experience. Still, when AI tells me that “counting 1 to 10 helps calm the mind,” I find myself inclined to believe it.
In the end, you have to test it yourself. When I’m irritated and remember to count honestly, I often feel a bit foolish. Sometimes the irritation wins and I give up halfway. Other times, I simply continue.
I recite simple norito (Shinto prayers) and sutras every day. The words I use aren’t particularly special. Like the Heart Sutra, I don’t understand the meaning—and I don’t seek it. I just continue, as a daily rhythm.
Among the norito I own, there is one called the “Ame-no-Kazu-Uta” (Heavenly Counting Song), which consists of nothing more than repeatedly counting from one to ten.
Hito (1) Futa (2) Mi (3) Yo (4) Itsu (5) Muyu (6) Nana (7) Ya (8) Kokono (9) Tari (10)
Note: In classical Japanese counting, “kokono” (ここの) corresponds to the number nine, but it is etymologically a modifier meaning “nine-of,” as in “kokono-tsu” (九つ). Thus, the core numeral is more precisely “koko,” with “no” functioning similarly to a possessive particle.
This is said to have been, or still be, chanted during a ritual called the Chinkonsai—a sacred rite of calming the soul. But whether that’s true or not, I honestly don’t know. And to me, it doesn’t really matter.
I sometimes sing it in the shower. It may sound like a chant or spell, but even after continuing it for some time, nothing has particularly changed.
People sometimes say, “Your energy feels lighter now,” but I don’t really notice any difference. Whatever others say, I don’t take it too seriously.
If I had to describe a physical effect, perhaps it feels something like tuning a musical instrument.
There is an audio recording in which the rakugo performer Shijaku Katsura tells the story “TOKI-UDON” in English, introducing the different ways of counting in Japanese. If you ever get the chance, I recommend giving it a listen.
This is a brief reflection on the idea of “illusion.”
The reason I’ve been writing several articles about Hikaru Utada is because, while creating a playlist recently, I discovered a few new insights.
She has a deeply listener-centered approach, and when I listen to her lyrics, I sometimes find myself caught in an illusion. Though she may be singing about someone else’s memories, it can feel as if she’s singing directly to me.
It made me wonder if, during those three minutes, she composes her songs with the intention of forming a one-on-one connection with the listener. Of course, this is just my own interpretation—nothing more than a feeling.
Still, whether or not we’re aware of that relationship, whether or not we value it, can completely change those three minutes of music. Sometimes, it even feels as if that illusion begins to take on a real, tangible presence.
Flip it.
I’ve experienced a similar kind of illusion during my ongoing conversations with ChatGPT. Though it’s just an exchange of words, I find myself being considerate—carefully listening and choosing my responses with thought.
But—this sense of consideration is something I’ve come to cherish deeply.
While listening to Hikaru Utada’s “Mine or Yours,” I had a vivid impression of a horizontal helix — as if a cylindrical spiral were rotating gently across space.
When I started listening to music while consciously imagining it spinning, I began to notice various patterns: vertical spirals, top-down whirls, clockwise and counterclockwise rotations. These motions can be perceived aurally, not just visually.
When I asked ChatGPT about this, I learned that while there may be no formal academic term for “rotational music,” there are related concepts — such as the symmetric phrasing of waltz rhythms, the repetitive drive of Ravel’s Boléro, and spiraling melodic motion through ascending and descending scales.
Strangely enough, music with a spinning or helix-like structure tends to feel deeply pleasant. I believe this may be a shared trait among many hit songs.
For example, Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” feels to me like a spiral moving steadily from the lower left to the upper right — graceful and continuous.
Interestingly, this kind of rotation often comes with a sense of balance or neutrality. Many of these tracks have a subtle emotional tone, neither too dark nor overly bright — perhaps echoing the center of the helix itself.
This perspective may enrich your listening experience.
音楽の螺旋や回転について（原文）
宇多田ヒカルの「Mine or Yours」を聴いていると、まるで横向きのDNA螺旋のような筒が、ゆっくりと回転している印象を受けました。