I spent some time with the GPT AI. It’s fun and educational. It addressed some questions about race that might have prompted a fistfight in face-to-face situations. It also showed an ability to learn, at least as much as it can grab content from Wikipedia on the fly. This led me to try and educate it on the brief career of a Queens artist who died young. I only learned of her recently and asked the AI if it knew anything about her. It did not and when I tried to educate it on her work and career the bot mysteriously started generating errors. I suspect it thought I was trying to fill it with bad or misleading information. Or else it really was just overloaded. I’ve also been puzzled by its responses to what I think are common questions for any taphophile: What famous people are buried at Calvary Cemetery in Queens. It produced a long list of “notables” I am certain are not buried at either Calvary, Old or New. It did this twice, but also responded on other occasions by saying it would have no way of knowing such things.
But getting back to history, and who writes it… I met another person last week who, when I mentioned payphones, quickly replied “They got of the last of those,” or something similar. I didn’t even bother correcting him. There’s no point, no value. The lie will live forever. Lying works. It guarantees George Santos some kind of promising future. It made Jayson Blair. Why can’t it make me? Because I’m a horrible liar, save for the occasional fictional flourish I throw into a story just to make it funny, or provocative. But for the most part when I am full of shit it’s pretty plainly obvious and deliberate.
I could do a lot of things… I could write the true story. But no one would read it. Someone wrote to me last week complaining about how I was saying somewhere (I don’t know where) that no one pays attention to my websites anymore. I stand by the sentiment but only in certain contexts and at certain times. The person wrote to complain that he was paying attention so why didn’t he count?
Someone else wrote to ask if I was still alive.
I am still alive. When I’m gone my web sites will most likely disappear with the next billing cycle. Poof.
I took a full 2mg of Lorazapan today. Not sure why except I was wide awake about 12:30am, did two shots with water chasers before sleep could return. It was not easy. Heart was pounding so I thought of taking the miracle BP pills but did not. Dreams came and left but no trace in this memory sponge.
I’ve had some funny interactions with theprofessional masturbators. They act like they are alone in a bedroom but there is virtually always someone there, doing what I do not know, calling the shots I guess?