My Only Friend, The End…

They are telling us this is produced one word at a time with no real ‘planning’ or ‘style’ involved. Do you believe that?

…of our elaborate plans, the end…

A friend sent me something that freaked me out a bit. Click these embeds and you’ll see why.

These chunks are not really the way I would write — it’s more like how a younger, way more pretentious version of me would write, but nonetheless, how did it come so close? I mean even if it read my books, which is scary on its own… where did this stuff come from?

I asked GPT if it had read any of my books and it said No, and that it gets its info on me from web data. There is no web data on me that explains this prose.

It may be a machine but it’s also something more, and a newborn baby at that. A squirmy, whiny little baby that’s going to grow up very soon…

Allan

As I’ve been saying, forget about a career as a writer. Or musician. Or photographer even. I recently saw an AI concocted photo that won the Grand Prize in a major photo contest.

Sorry about the blog being down this morning (Friday); it was a billing issue. I haven’t completely fixed it — I still can’t access the mailbox — but I’m hoping to get it done soon.

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