the blog

a best heaven
Which one of us will die first?
In the process of me writing this, and of you reading this, we’ve entered into a strange contract. You’ve committed to reading a string of ideas that will never end, and I’ve committed to writing until I can’t anymore. It’s a strange contract because it, by nature, guarantees that one of us will break it. Not by choice, but by death.

what does ChatGPT dream of?
This is a follow-up to my previous essay Does God Trust Us?
What happens when you psychoanalyze something that has no psyche?