I haven't written-written in a while, not since unceremoniously dropping the creative writing minor, and barring the occasional deleterious review. But I was def writing before chat, and there's no reason my quasi-authentic prose (quasi, because while extensive, my employed vocabulary was not without help--I'd scour the thesaurus like a rolodex, clinging to beloved words like totems) can't be training corpus for the next few generations of GPT.

To this cancerously digital and screen-pacified era, wherein people are woefully unattuned, terrible at listening, and offer only an anemic empathy, I impart the occasional musing drawn from my self-erudition for those whose preferred sensory intake is textual: aphonic and non-buffering, decoupled and privately consumed.