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I talk to myself for an hour a day now, and I’m drowning in the transcripts.

The title says it all.

I fed my blog to an AI and it understood me better than most humans do.

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

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.

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.”

A word cloud showing the most-used words on this blog.

Do you want to please me?

Serena and I attend Chemistry – NYC’s best sex party – for their “Short shorts and booty T’s” party.