Ray Hsu—poet, former academic, and mental health entrepeneur—discusses the invisible work of creativity and care in an age of AI. Our conversation weaves through mental health platforms, the notion of value, the allure of technology, and why both activist performativity and academic detachment miss the point.
[JUL PARKE]: At the time, even at UBC, that was really unusual actually to have a younger Asian person giving us a university lecture. So that stood out. And then I think a few months later I was interning at Ricepaper, the Asian Canadian Literary magazine where you had become the head editor. And you were on the cover at some point wearing a jean jacket, sort of posing as a fashion model.
[RAY HSU]: This was the jean jacket and that was literally, I think it was decades ago. This is the jean jacket.
[JUL PARKE]: Decades ago. I would say it's like one decade ago.
[RAY HSU]: One decade ago. Okay. Felt like decades.
[JUL PARKE]: I think this episode, what I was hoping to talk about was your background in therapy actually, and your entanglements with the counseling industry. With the therapy industry. I hope it's okay that I'm calling it an industry and to really gain a sense of your expertise building a platform called Phare, which is to my understanding, a matchmaking platform between mental health practitioners and people who would like to find a therapist. And what I also found really compelling in our previous conversation was how you were demystifying therapy for me by explaining how in many ways the industry resembles academia and the closedness of it.
[RAY HSU]: I will say that I am not a therapist myself by profession. The reason why we started Phare, and this is Heather and I, Heather McCabe, who is my partner, co-schemer, co-conspirator. We started this at the beginning of the pandemic because we were watching basically, it's not as if mental health wasn't a huge thing prior to the pandemic, of course it was. But with the specialness of the pandemic, isolation, massive isolation at scale, also watching therapists move from really prizing the face-to-face relationship in person to having to move online, and I will say that a lot of therapists with whom I talk, they get into therapy because they really prize the one-on-one relationship, face-to-face. And sometimes it's even a little idealized, romanticized. Many of them, many of the therapists that I talk to also happen to be artists. There's a real sense of, I don't know if I would push it so far as to say Luddism, but some of them may well identify as Luddites, this kind of anti-media stance. Anyway, so a lot of them have to move online to this thing, to this way of relating to another person that might be seen as lesser than, inferior, all that kind of stuff. But of course, people adjust, people make do. Online face-to-face video conferencing becomes the norm, so it was an amazing moment to be trying to build Phare at the beginning of the pandemic. We were absolutely inspired by efforts in the US, for example, to provide accessible mental health services to frontline workers during the pandemic.
When it comes to therapy, there's a real story about labor. I think that one of the things that emerges out of the professionalization of therapy is, for example, a focus on methodology, modality.
[JUL PARKE]: Mm-hmm.
[RAY HSU]: Oftentimes you may see a lot of therapists identifying with their particular modality. Yeah. So whether it's something like cognitive behavioral therapy, CBT, or whether it's something else, somatic for example. I think that there is a really strong focus on technique, like the particular way that someone does something. And I could speak for hours about how experts, professionals come to identify with technique. I think it is also related to craft. Okay, what are the particular techniques that I use as a craftsperson? If I'm a fiction writer, if I'm a poet, if I write drama, if I'm a playwright, there's a real focus on like, okay, what are the specializations that make me into a professional?
One of the things that we have noticed in matchmaking, which I think is really interesting, is that professionals, as in therapists in this case, can describe themselves in ways that are very legible to them and their colleagues, but to prospective clients, it goes clear over prospective clients' heads. So how do we translate, how do we connect professionals with people who really could benefit from their services? But sometimes it becomes really esoteric.
[JUL PARKE]: I totally get what you mean on that. I find, gosh, so I've been in therapy for years now. I've gone through, I would say five therapists and some of them had different modalities. So I've tried CBT, DBT, Internal Family Systems, and every time a therapist defaulted to the methodology of healing, I found myself kind of taking a step back because it felt like my issue wasn't really being empathized with, I guess, to the client's perspective. The modality doesn't feel like a solution. It feels like a prescription that you don't really trust yet. And I gotta say, many people who don't partake in therapy, and I would say most of us should be in therapy, don't do so because of the stress and the opportunity cost emotionally of dealing with these multiple modalities and having them not work out and not vibing with a therapist, which is when they turn to ChatGPT as their therapist.
So then that becomes something where somebody turns to an LLM like ChatGPT as a solution after having been disappointed by human therapists. Is that right?
[RAY HSU]: I think so. I think that's a very common situation. We recently had a study come out in the US which found that a great number of adults, men in the US right now rely on LLMs for imitating human warmth and relationships in their daily lives. And it's a common meme, men will do anything except go to therapy, but I don't think it's just men. I think many people, young or old of all genders are relying on LLMs for an easy surrogate to human-led forms of therapy right now. So I'm actually really curious to hear what you think about that as somebody who has created this sort of digital platform for connecting people to therapy.
[JUL PARKE]: I will say that for me, I am not necessarily scared by AI. I have a bunch of different feelings about it. I'm going to point to, for example, what I see as a kind of anxiety around people turning to LLMs for therapeutic help. I don't think that that's necessarily bad, and I'm not saying that you are saying so either, but I can totally imagine that somebody might be like, oh, people are turning to LLMs for therapy and like, can you believe that? And I think...
[RAY HSU]: I think that one of the things that you're pointing to is that that's not necessarily bad. That's actually a valve for not having had empathy needs, or something else, therapeutic needs met by real people or humans. I paused for a moment around the idea of real people. Let's set that aside for a moment. I think that it can make rational sense to turn to an LLM for therapeutic help if one feels as if, one, it's a confusing system, who do I find that might be a really good fit? Or it could be a cost issue as well.
I think for a lot of people, they turn to LLMs because they've already answered a question within themselves before they went there, which is, they don't know how to navigate this incredibly confusing system and it was confusing before AI. It was confusing before the rise of LLMs, but it's just that now we have this additional avenue in which somebody is able to turn to an LLM and that becomes a symptom of something that was broken beforehand. It was broken before the rise of AI.
[JUL PARKE]: Okay. So I really hear you there, but now I've got another channel for it.
[RAY HSU]: Yes, we do.
[JUL PARKE]: So it's interesting how what's implicit in here is that AI is equipped to help people process the paperwork in the search of finding the right therapist for them. That administrative and searching is what LLMs are built to do really well. The issue is people are actually going to the LLM, not for administrative and searching support, but for the therapy itself to be a surrogate for the therapist. Do you think there are reasons beyond the exhaustion of thinking of finding a human therapist that sort of draws the client to the LLM instead of the therapist? Something that's more affect-based, something that's more related to the person's needs in terms of therapy?
[RAY HSU]: I think it very well could be. I think that talking to another person can be costly, socially costly. It can be empathetically costly. This is me speculating here. Let me be absolutely clear about that. This is me kind of going out on a limb here. Because there can be perhaps like a sense of judgment or like potentially a sense of fit, like, okay, do I need to worry about what the person across from me is thinking about how I am relating to them? Does that represent an additional burden? Do I have that sense when I'm talking to an LLM? You know, that I am doing some sort of emotional labor in order to negotiate the relationship between me and another human? And is that obviated, is that removed by talking to an LLM? Do I not have to worry about what an LLM thinks? This can be wrapped up in the idea of like, let's say judgment or something like that. And do I, does that mean that it's like I do less labor as a potential client? It's weird to think of oneself as like a therapy client of an LLM or something, but is that part of the thing that it's like, I worry less when I talk to an LLM?
I think that right now we're at a point in the conversation where my brain forks into all sorts of different paths. I think that generally speaking beyond therapeutic contexts, people can worry about LLMs just serving up what they want to hear.
[JUL PARKE]: I often think that the validation and the sycophancy and the constant cheerleading that an LLM provides to the user is often more of a reason why people use it as a therapy surrogate. Something I find interesting is I tried googling AI for therapy, and Google AI produced an AI overview of limitations and concerns regarding using AI for therapy. And it came up with a few reasons, which I found interesting because they are also limitations and concerns for human-based therapy. So one is lack of emotional intelligence, short-term memory issues. I think that myself and a lot of people have dealt with lack of emotional intelligence and lack of our therapists remembering things that we talked about with them. Cultural bias. I gotta say as an Asian person in therapy, one of the biggest things that I talked about with my friends is do you have a white therapist or not? Like, did you seek a person of color therapist? Because it is an issue and oftentimes we spend hours trying to explain race and lived experiences to our therapists. Risk of isolation, yeah, that's fair. Regulation and ethics, that's also fair. But really like, I think a lot of people have dealt with this kind of need for empathy that hasn't been met in the real world. And when they're dealing with suffering and struggles and mental illnesses that leads people to seek out therapy typically, they find themselves turning to an LLM that has sort of proven that they can deliver empathy to them for free.
[RAY HSU]: I know that talking to a bunch of AI engineers who are also artists and writers themselves, who are very skeptical about the role that AI plays within creative labor, within creative products, all that kind of stuff. They believe very much in artistry, these AI engineers, these startup folks, and that's one of the things that I think a lot of folks who might not know some of these people personally, it's like they might wonder like, oh, of course, you are just some like tech bro or something like that who is like utterly bullish, like you are an Elon Musk or something like that, and they're not. So one of the things that is a fear is this sense of like, okay, is this just language? Like an LLM is language with legs, walking around and just delivering to me what it is that I want to hear. And if that's true, then people can be suspicious of that as well, as recipients of this kind of AI therapy. They can say like, okay, am I really in a sense getting helped in a way that a professional might push back and give me that sense of perspective beyond getting what I might receive that's parallel to a search query in a search engine or something like that, just delivering to me what it is that I want? I think that people can have desires beyond simply being empathized to, if that makes sense.
I think that there is a separation of worlds where, let's say therapists might romanticize this idea of face-to-face interaction and never get involved in the formation or the rise of the technology. I think that that is a huge ideological barrier for being able to shape the future. I say this as someone who cares immensely about mental health and where it is going. It's almost as if it's kind of like a lot of people refuse to have their hands on a wheel. Not that technology is the be all and end all of the future, but in refusing to play a role, it's like people can really stick their heads into the sand. Now what does this look like? What could this look like? I hope it's not a manifesto to say like, just plain get involved. Here's something: Eliza, the very first chatbot was designed to be a therapist. Like the history of AI has been intertwined with that of mental health.
[JUL PARKE]: That's right.
[RAY HSU]: Why do people feel as if there's some sort of magical separation, this chasm between worlds? I think it's because of a whole lot of ideological baggage. I think that therapists should have a role to play in the formation of technologies that they're scared of. I think everybody should, and I think that we just need to work together on this. And what does that mean? What does that mean? Does that mean that we end up with a different kind of environment in which people are not choosing this or that, LLMs versus real people? I think that that's a really interesting question. It's not one that I am going to predict. I do think though that there's a lot of work to be done around collaboration. Collaboration which includes contestation. I'm not just saying it's kind of like everybody go and follow in the future that it seems like bigwigs are setting up for us right now. No, no, no. In fact, I think that therapists can throw a lever, put on a brake if they want to, but they need the perspective. They need the societal perspective. They need those societal positions of being able to throw levers, so then the train can go in directions that they feel like are positive. This is not an either-or game. This is, it can't stay an either-or game.
[JUL PARKE]: I love the Eliza example, because it's such a great kind of example to show how Weizenbaum originally had this sort of ironic bent to it. It was like, I'm gonna make a computer imitate therapy and it's gonna be so funny because it's gonna just repeat what you said and be really nice. And his colleagues reportedly loved talking to Eliza and asked him to please leave the room so that they could continue talking to Eliza more. So there's something about us that is drawn to talking to machines, something about us that loves it when inanimate objects, enchanted machines, show us empathy and give us some sort of emotional feedback. And I think it's worth it to not separate human therapists and LLM support and make it an either-or, or versus kind of oppositional situation, which is also combined with a moral scare regarding the future of mental health. So in your opinion, what is kind of the future of mental health? What's the future? What does the future of mental health tech look for you? What are the kinds of things do you imagine and hope for?
[RAY HSU]: Let me just say right off the bat that I don't consider myself to be a futurist. I think that futurism, like, I'm not going to strut around on a stage and pronounce what the future looks like, and I'm not going to use that as my hammer to draw resources and prestige. I find the entire masculine performance of being a futurist offputting and annoying. What I will say is futures. It's kind of like, I think in the possibilities that can come out, rather than something that is out of my hands, that I simply predict or simply forecast and I can pat myself on the back for being a genius, for being a Nostradamus that foretells the future or something like that. No, I think that we have to actively put our hands on these levers and that is the spirit of activism. That is the spirit of entrepreneurship, that is the spirit of being able to play a role in which of these futures, which of these futures comes to happen. What do I consider to be really promising possibilities? I think that if you put people in a room, people who are very different from each other, whether it be therapists who are extremely critical, let's say of, and like think a lot about ethics and AI and mental health, think about those things together, and they are well positioned in other rooms where people are obsessively thinking about growth and scale, et cetera, et cetera, like thinking about growing a user base or something like that, it's like amazing things and scary things will happen, but it's like if you could pilot the Death Star, which direction would you fly it?
I think to me that a future of intersections amongst these different fields is where the most interesting stuff will happen. Because I think conceptually it's easy to think about things in separate lanes. Oh, there's this AI world, oh, there's this therapy world. But if we jam them together, then what will happen? I like that question mark. I find it exciting and scary and exciting and gentle.
[JUL PARKE]: I love this optimistic approach to technology that you have and something I'm also curious about is your perspective on all of this as a writer, as somebody who practices, who has practiced this for a very long time. LLMs are well known for producing these sort of plagiarized works of text that draw on volumes and volumes of creative work by writers and poets. And many people today are actually producing creative written works with AI. So how do you feel about all of this?
[RAY HSU]: I think that, for one thing, it's something that, I'm gonna sound utterly fluffy, but we need to, we need to all get together and talk about this for one thing. I will say that a predominant thing that I have heard is tremendous, I think the way that you put it was moral panic or something. I think that there is a very strong norm of emotion and response and reaction. I think, and this is me once again beating the drum, there have been tensions all along. AI and the rise of any other technology has really brought certain things to the fore, questions that were fault lines that were lurking under the surface.
Okay? So when, from the point of view of being a writer, which I have been, I find it a very weird identity to wear these days. I could speak for hours about why it feels really weird. But artists have always had a really tough time thinking about their labor. For example, when I was doing my PhD, one of the chapters that I wrote was about the New Deal and cultural projects that happened under the New Deal. People were not just building bridges or buildings or whatever. They were also creating works of art, or they were creating, as with the Federal Writers Project, for example, a book about every single state, and it ends up being shelves and shelves and shelves and shelves, volumes of this collective labor.
Now one of the things that you run into is how do people who are doing these kinds of labor measure their time and measure their labor? It's like if you spend an hour agonizing over a sentence, what kind of productive labor was that? Was it worth it? Was it not worth it? And by the way, this is also academia, like when you're doing research, oh, it's kind of like if you sink, I don't know, like a year into producing like, I don't know, a meager amount of text or something like that. What kind of labor was that? It's incredibly anxiety producing for people who find themselves in these positions where they're trying to justify their labor to themselves and to others. And of course we developed these incredibly elaborate systems like citation numbers in order to figure out like, okay, was it worth it?
So when a technology comes and throws in our faces, as cultural producers, the question of what counts as labor? Am I as a human being, what is the value of my labor now? That has always been a problem. It's always been hard to measure. It's always been a point of anxiety. Now I wish, oh, oh, by the way, there are strands of practice amongst cultural producers, such as in conceptual art, where it had to do, it was always questioning what labor counted as. It's like if I do this conceptual piece, and primarily it is about the idea of the piece, what kind of labor was that? I didn't spend hours and hours and hours crafting a thing, that wasn't where the labor went. But it's almost as if within the age of AI we have conveniently forgotten or ignored, I would wager to say ignored, these strands that have always been questioning this question of what counted as human labor anyway within these pursuits. Conceptual art has been sidelined relative to more crafty ways, more hands-on ways of thinking about art, and in art, there are all these different ways of thinking about art anyway. How many people actually create their works with their hands, spend their hours working on it? But it taps into this really deep nervousness that predates AI. Anyway, I could geek out for hours about this kind of stuff and I would love to be able to geek out about this stuff.
[JUL PARKE]: I actually, I would like to hear more of this nervousness, the anxiety around the fact that artistic labor, like creative labor is really hard to quantify sometimes. And in general, society tends to devalue many forms of creative labor in ways that other kinds of labor would not be typically. And I think that rings true for therapy as well. If therapy in the way you say it is a form of craft, is a kind of creative practice, is a kind of creative labor that people work on across a long period of time, people hate spending money for therapy in the way that people hate spending money on cakes, elaborate cakes and paintings, and commissioned art. Like people really hate spending money on it in the way that they wouldn't bat an eye for spending money on furniture or kitchen appliances or technology. So yeah, I just wanna hear a little more about that, the anxiety around this and about the kind of value we ascribe to such art.
[RAY HSU]: Let me just say that people are really bad at valuing things, period.
[JUL PARKE]: Hmm.
[RAY HSU]: I will say that over the last decade and a half, the question of value has obsessed me. And this is someone who post-academia, and like all the anxieties that had come with that world, you know, of, okay, is what I am doing valuable? Do I justify it to granting agencies? Can I justify it to my state government or my provincial government or my federal government or something like that in order to get more resources? It's kind of like the question of value has haunted me, and I think it haunts other people, and that's one of the reasons why I think that rolling up one's sleeves and working through and around and through capitalism has been a really interesting journey. Not as if those worlds, art, academia and all that kind of stuff aren't utterly implicated in capitalism anyway.
[JUL PARKE]: But capitalism works differently in an academic system, so I think I understand what you mean.
[RAY HSU]: So the question is, something I've noticed is that people seem delighted to use AI, especially for things...
[JUL PARKE]: That's right.
[RAY HSU]: That are the products of creative labor, and that includes therapy, that includes art, that includes writing. So I'm curious to hear your take on this.
[JUL PARKE]: Okay. Delighted. Yes. Yes, yes. I think that there's certainly the dimension of fascination, like what is, what is this new thing? What is it capable of? One of the things that I find absolutely fascinating about, as a geek, is emergent interactions with technologies, our tools. It's like, one of the things that I realized when I used to geek out and be more active in virtual reality, augmented reality and all that kind of stuff, is that when you put someone in a virtual reality experience, one of the first things that they often want to do is they want to pick something up and throw it. Like, it's just, it's this thing that people who haven't seen others interact within this environment for the first time, they'll enter into an environment and it's like clockwork. They pick up a thing and they throw it, an object. Why, why do people do that? I think for one thing it's a fascination with the physics. Does, can I pick up this thing and watch it fly through the air? What's, how does cause and effect work in this universe that I've just entered into? And this is me trying to work with people to create these educational experiences. Like, oh, like, let me lead you through this educational experience. But no, the person wants to pick up an object and throw it, usually at the head of someone who is like a digital being who's within the virtual world anyway. So I do find these kinds of emergent interactions just really interesting. How do people use a thing?
Okay. When it comes to something like, okay, people not wanting to pay for therapy, I think for one thing, there are all sorts of reasons, structurally that have to do with structures of oppression as to why people might not want to pay for therapy. Okay? So let me point to an example. Okay? Gendered emotional labor. Imagine a dude who is kind of like, oh, I'm so moody, I've got these problems, it's all about his inner world, oh, there's someone who codes as feminine, like in this person's circle. Oh, they're going to lay their troubles on this person and expect this person to do emotional labor on his behalf. Like, oh, I don't often express my feelings. This is me kind of caricaturing it. I don't often express my feelings, but I can express my feelings to you, creating this kind of like guilt trippy dimension to it as well. Or, you are my partner so I can expect this from you.
Like that kind of thing. There are all sorts of reasons like that have to do with structures of oppression. Why this becomes cheap devalued labor, much as other kinds of, let's say, gendered, racialized labor. Like, go do this kind of more manual labor. Like, doing the dishes or whatever. So I think that there's already that structural dimension of why emotional labor might be devalued. Now I do think that pop culture, mass culture representations of therapy have in a sense put this kind of labor on a pedestal, professionalized it, helped in the professionalization of this kind of labor, so we have someone who looks as if they are being paid well for this kind of labor. And I think that that's one of the ways in which it's come to surpass representations of, let's say, artistic labor. You don't necessarily see professionalized, well-paid representations of artistic labor in the same way these days that you might see with therapists, therapy in pop culture representation.
So I think that that does help nudge things in the direction of, okay, I look around and I see other people paying for, paying $150 an hour, $200 an hour for this kind of labor. I can do it too. Or I as a prospective client can expect to pay the same. I think that there is oftentimes a race to the bottom around professions that people may want to do, competitive professions, such as artistic professions, where it's kind of like, okay, one of the ways in which I might outcompete another artist is by offering my services more cheaply.
[JUL PARKE]: Mm-hmm.
[RAY HSU]: I think that that has come to characterize, for example, artistic academia, people being willing to be paid less and less and less and less for that kind of labor. So I do want to make a distinction between the kinds of labor that, let's say, therapists who have been, and I will say that this is perhaps one of the benefits professionally of a very strong guild system. As therapists forming these professional associations, the kind of thing that I had spoken about in the beginning as being a very fragmented system. I think that that is part of the picture around being able to get a public to respect and value the kinds of labor that they provide, the kinds of services that they provide.
So, professional associations have succeeded in valuing therapy, at least in the capitalist sense, so that people who provide therapy are able to live a living wage. However, many people in the creative professions have not been able to benefit from such similar guilds or standard agreements regarding wages and payment for labor.
[JUL PARKE]: Why do you think this is?
[RAY HSU]: I have personally had a really interesting time negotiating this with fellow artists. One of the projects that I tried to do was basically create a system in which artists and writers could get paid for the ways in which their work was used to train an LLM. And that required approaches to technology that would allow for attribution. It's kind of like, okay, if this drawing of yours was being used to train an LLM, what percentage or what weight of that drawing was used to train that LLM? And attribution is a really interesting problem. Not, not, like LLMs don't necessarily care about attribution and being able to point to, okay, this percentage was, went into this final product that someone had queried and gotten when requesting like, let's say an image via the LLM.
Okay. And there were some who looked at this project and said, Ray, you are creating what once upon a time would've been the United Artists of our AI, AI era. Once upon a time, there was the creation of United Artists as an organization, as a kind of, in a sense, artists union, and you are proposing to do something like that now in our age of AI. But there were plenty of people who looked at this proposal and they were scared crapless by the idea of even coming within this project with a 10 foot pole. They would say like, I would not contribute to this. I would not, they, I don't know of any of my friends who would contribute to this. We would want nothing to do with it.
[JUL PARKE]: You mentioned collaboration. I think that that is part of the problem here. Craftiness suggests someone who is working in a basement by themselves. That is the romanticism, that is the idealism of, let's say, a poet working in a closed off room. Woo. Like they're busy crafting the lines, they're busy working on line breaks, they're busy working on word choice or something like that. One of the things that I found tremendously dissatisfying about creative writing, when I was like cutting my teeth as a creative writer was, because I was tremendously social, I joined poetry as like a community, if you can even call it that, because I wanted to be with other people, and when I was part of a writing workshop, I lived off of that, like it felt to me an injustice to only slap my name under the title of a poem. I wanted to put everyone else's name too. And in my first book of poetry, the single page that I spent the most time on was the acknowledgements page, because that was where I was torn up trying to figure out like, who would I include? Who would I not include? Would I have to include funders? Would I include the people who were part of my writing workshop and all this kind of stuff? I agonized over that page more than any single poem in the book of poetry. That kind of collectiveness, that kind of relational, that kind of thing poisoned me, poisoned me from being content with that discipline because of this. People had a really tough time thinking about collectivity and collaboration and all that kind of stuff.
[RAY HSU]: Mm-hmm.
[JUL PARKE]: Collaboration. I think, it's gonna sound like even as it's coming out of my mouth, I don't want it to just be a truism, just some sort of like empty word. But that thing where it's like if people can get out of themselves, get past this idea that I am an isolated genius. That, I think that it echoes the kind of pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps kind of hero narrative of an artist, and I will also say academia, where it's kind of like people live off of their personal brands.
[RAY HSU]: I think that...
[JUL PARKE]: Mm-hmm.
[RAY HSU]: Academics and artists have cut their teeth on managing their brand, managing their personal professional brand, being kind of brand capitalists, working with prestige and all that kind of stuff, and part of that is the lone hero narrative that I find so dissatisfying. I think you really need to get people in a room together, and that's the work that I find really interesting.
[JUL PARKE]: I resonate so much with this. I think part of the work of shifting our notions around labor and seeing, just having a good concept of how AI is providing certain kinds of labor and understanding it in the context of how it actually works in those professions is to really acknowledge how collaborative and community-based and collective that labor is. It's not a kind of like one-on-one feedback loop where it's like one person produces one thing within the confines of their mind. It's really a constant back and forth, a kind of sounding board and a communal gathering of discussions and ideas and terminologies and group conceptualizations.
This has been a very long, very rich conversation. Thank you so much, Ray, for coming on.
[RAY HSU]: I have so much sympathy for you in the editing room.
[JUL PARKE]: No, it'll be fine.
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