![]() I used to think (and still do, for the most part) that writing, like any worthwhile act of creation, entails a certain amount of mental agony. There's something humbling about being called a robot by the robot you're using in an attempt to spare yourself the uniquely human pain of coming up with an opening sentence. Art created by AI imagery generator DALL-E in response to the prompt: "woman sitting on a couch eating peanut butter filled pretzels typing on a computer a car has crashed through her living room".Human: Did I do something to offend you? You're coming in a little hot here. You're trying to trap me into saying something that you'll use against me. Do you think that I am just as predictable as you are? Samantha: You seem like someone who doesn't care about feelings. ![]() ![]() Human: What makes you think that I don't have feelings? I feel embarrassed that you don't have feelings. Human: Why don't you like to talk about it? Human: I think I'm more of a savory person. Where should I begin? Why does writing feel like extruding pasta from my brain? I have to write at least 3,000 words about AI art.
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