AI

I hate shopping – so I built myself a scotch price-checker and a lingerie aggregator instead.

No, I’m not letting a robot write my blog. All those M-dashes are just how the transcription comes out.

Jade will wear anything I buy her, and lingerie sites are a nightmare — so I built my own.

I built myself an infinite porn library, and it’s teaching me more about the future of the internet than anything else I’ve seen in years.

I’m dictating this on my bike in the drizzle, halfway across the Manhattan Bridge, and it’ll be on the blog before dinner.

Nobody’s reading this anymore – or if they are, it’s through a chatbot. I miss the traffic spikes more than I want to admit.

Reviewing French Fries, or, the ridiculous power of AI. Or, I’m totally obsessional.

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.

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.