the oppressive emptiness of flawless communication
mourning the lost art of words that mind their own business
notes on AI, language, and the weird business of being human
mourning the lost art of words that mind their own business
in defense of liking things, against the people who've made that embarrassing
on the mark that does nothing, means nothing, and somehow gets away with both
on grief, puppies, and incompatible training data
The technical explanation for your impostor syndrome that actually helps
wisdom from a 3am kitchen floor