Different ghosts, different machines
Musings on AI poetry and loneliness
Dear code-davinci-0021,
July started as a thick Monday in Boston, and I noticed it was the first time in weeks I felt anything other than what can only be described as one ounce of pressure per inch of my skin; a constant sensation, dulling and noticeable in the way a quiet humming is. Meaning, it’s only after you notice it’s there that it bothers you. In…
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