N. Likes

I’m marking the 15th anniversary of my blog, a few months late. What began as exhibitionistic and therapeutic has become a memoir of my inner life through my fifties.

I’ve been building a chatbot to give access to my writing — not to imitate my voice, but to preserve it. This project grew from grief over my mother’s lost writings and a resolve not to leave my child without my output.

Every behavior, sexual or otherwise, contains valuable information. Lately my pornographic habits are raising disturbing new questions I’ve been avoiding — ones I plan to explore in a future post.

A PAWG? Not quite. But almost….

Remembering my suffering.

I’ve known V since 2011. We aren’t in touch, and I haz a sad.

Trump has dampened my libido. What I initially attributed to aging, I now recognize as a response to the horror of the current political moment: it’s hard to summon desire in the middle of a national catastrophe.

I built a custom chatbot. Ask it anything about my life, relationships, or insights. Just know: your conversation isn’t private, the corporate and environmental ethics are messy, and usage is throttled.

Ask N anything!

I’m definitely not saying that I wish Trump had let loose some sort of armageddon on Iran tonight. But. The man is a master of reality TV. And. A total. Fucking. Chickenshit. Sociopath. Pussy.