AI

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.

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

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

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.

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’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.

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

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.

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

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.