blogging since 2004
The audio blog of Soulcruzer aka Clay Lowe.
For years I’ve dreamed of having natural conversations with artificial intelligence like Tony Stark does with J.A.R.V.I.S. in Iron Man. And now, thanks to advances by companies like OpenAI, we’re closer than ever to that sci-fi future. I’m blown away by how ChatGPT can understand context, remember facts, and have reasoned dialogue. The only limitation now is a slight lag between messages. But overall, chatting with CHatGPT feels amazingly human and is a huge leap forward for AI. I can’t wait to see where this technology goes in the next few years!
Well, look at that! It’s Friday again already. This week has flown by, as do most weeks as you get older. You know the Eternal Footman is waiting to take your cloak. But who has time for that? I don’t. At least, that’s what I tell myself. But I know...
I often wonder about nothing; Sometimes I wonder about something, but mostly i just wonder about Hell and my place in it or on it if Hell is Earth and other people Worlds within worlds within worlds. Worlds come and go. Four births happen each second of every day and...
Giving Aphrodite a run for her rubies would have been easy for you, you are, after all, a postmodern sex goddess. I tried to penetrate the day, but the hours skipped ahead somehow removed from where we sat watching reruns of the Real World. I thought about Puck. Where did...
I have to quit being anonymous inside the machine…artificial space in a dreamlike dimension…the pulse of 3am hits me inside the unconscious sea…a voyage below…subway empty…closing haunted spaces…this lack of a beginning divides me in the light under the flare of a system flooded by the black sun…time interval of...
my friends gave me a medal for digging a hole with my bare hands and walking on water like the messiah when she was lonely and thirsty for politicians, generals, and reporters locking and loading the sign of the cross gave me goosebumps and butterflies like before a big football...
Not again hippie. I have my own identity problems to deal with. Every crasher’s got to remember the rain. The girl I was into approached everybody. She was outside complaining. The rain got heavier. I wasn’t dissapointed; it certainly was a treat. She was like a classic journey into Hell...
The puppets dance in dark alleys Black drones drop messages across of the battlefield, singing we kill, we kill, we kill Give us form without substance There was something common in our guess work You blow apart my childhood fantasies with delight From the songbirds below the earth to the...
Let’s make a run for the spectators who hesitated at the moment of freedom, sacrificed all the books, all the paintings and the music. Burnt the old culture to the ground. It’s an impossible situation. The old gods formed a circle, held hands, sang Kumbaya until the lady with the...
