AI

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.

I contrast my past destructive obsession with commercial sex against my current generative, productive compulsion with AI tools.

Now you can browse all the pictures for any tag in one place — even as a slideshow. I’m unreasonably excited about this.

I’m producing more work than ever thanks to AI, but I’m overwhelmed by unfinished drafts, a sense of online obsolescence, and my own mortality.

I’m using AI to turn an unshareable fantasy into a symbolic dream, drawing on Freud’s theories to preserve privacy and allow expression.

I increasingly find that I prefer AI-generated pornography over real-life encounters and traditional porn – it indulges my perverse fantasy of omnipotent control without the difficulties of human interaction.

After a year of physical, familial, and domestic disruption, I’m reflecting on my relationship to sexuality, fantasy, aging, AI, and gender in search of renewed creative flow.