N. Likes

I swapped the subway for a bike, and lost two hours of daily writing time. So naturally, I built an AI-powered voice memo pipeline to recapture it.

The core fantasy is unchanged, cast in amber. But my relationship to it — and to the distance between fantasy and reality — has shifted profoundly.

I didn’t cry for thirty years. Now I cry every day, and I’ve never been more grateful.

To what extent is what’s good for the goose truly what’s good for this particular gander?

Some helpful rules if you find yourself in the presence of my cock.

I’m a block from Serena, and I’m not going to tell her.

Remembering Serena’s broken promises and (my) magic wand.

Bittersweet sadness

My affair with Serena is flickering out, and the pain has been overwhelming. I’ve kept my thoughts hidden, too raw and vulnerable. Now, I’m torn between rage and terror, emotions that clash with my rational understanding.

I asked ChatGPT to write a snippet about how shitty Mistral is at this task, and this is what it came up with for this post. Ugh. “It churned out a jumble of words that had no focus. I thought we were past this stage, but here we are. Guess I’ll just keep doing the writing myself.”