Bruce Springsteen Envies Me by James Navé

Q: Who Would Envy You? A: Bruce Springsteen Last month, I had coffee with my friend Gareth Higgins at Recess Coffee in Black Mountain, North Carolina. As we settled in, I mentioned I’d been exploring ChatGPT. Gareth smiled and said, “Let me show you something ChatGPT can do that’ll surprise you.” Then he leaned into his phone and dictated: List 10 notable writers or poets who would be envious of James Navé and explain why. If you’ve ever used ChatGPT, you know what happened next—within seconds, it generated the list along with a paragraph for each one. While a few responses were predictable, the overall experience was oddly fascinating. It got me thinking about the lens of self-worth, creative admiration, and the power of imaginative comparison. Yesterday, I tried Gareth’s idea out as a prompt during our Thursday Imaginative Storm Zoom workshops. List 5 to 10 people you admire. Then, write for 10 minutes about why they would envy you. Give it a spin. I chose Bruce Springsteen. Here’s what I wrote. Bruce Springsteen, you envy me because I can be invisible whenever and wherever I want, wherever I go, walking through the promised land across the Rainbow Bridge. Bruce, I like the way you look straight out. You envy me because I can see the edges. I dwell in the fall from grace as much as the rise from grace. I'm not troubled with old sheep wandering in dry pastures. I have a voice that calls my mama from the grave. No, I'm no karmic child, nor am I a fleeting-moments Buddhist. I am oil and dusty windows. Bruce, you envy me because unlike you, I'm from the rugged south, down in the heartland where rocks have accents and children grow up to sing in Nashville. Bruce, you are from New Jersey—Land of steel, forest, factories, and “made-men” on corners in Jersey City. I am a creature of things that crawl in old gold heat. I know the runners that pull the cargo up the inland waterway and fly twin-engine planes out of Cuba, or they used to. Bruce, I know you know people, too. Do I envy you? Sure, I envy you. I've heard you weep over your piano. You envy me because nobody expects me to weep over my piano. Those who know me expect me to rise up like magic wind. Bruce, you envy me because I can talk to age, and time, and the coming years. I belong to the invisible Bruce. I can call up sometime, anytime I want. You can call me sometime, too. Let's meet in Virginia, south on I-95 just below Washington, DC. How about it, Bruce?