Waxe Wod

I made it through six years. patreon.com/posts/14566375…

Today's morning loveliness = good coffee and birds chirping.

I think a lot of AI just makes people feel bad. Like a "how you did this week" performance update, when you know you only sold one item. Or, "Let's buy something nice for Red's birthday," when your dog died two years ago.

I got a new tattoo... patreon.com/posts/15286683…

Mes amis, I am exhausted. But hanging in. patreon.com/posts/15195272…

I wrote about it here... patreon.com/posts/15116143…

If you've been near me for the past decade, you know that I have written about AI extensively. Well, apparently, AI scraped my work 23 x. Or more times, but 23 individual works. And so I have a tiny stake in a massive lawsuit. With the potential for $72,000. Which I won't see.

I wrote a short story for a contest. You can read it here. patreon.com/posts/15145891… #romance #shortstory #writinglife #indiewriter

@WaxeWod Taken on the train this afternoon

Match my photo with one you took? (No faces, please.) 📸

This was the rest of our journey to the city for Sam's latest rounds of tests... patreon.com/posts/15116720… #caregiving #caregiver #stroke

I thought he was kidding at first. But he was seriously trying to find a way to cut down his wife's flowering tree in their yard. He was okay with flowering vines.

I was once talking to a friend of the family, and he announced he was against flowering trees. Hated them. I think if I gave this tic to a character, nobody would believe it.

Don't bring your anti-trans bullshit here.

It's wild to me when minorities hate on other minorities.

It was wild. By being more me, I connected with the lurkers. There's a lesson in this somewhere.

I wrote more naked than I usually do. I pulled fewer punches. Stripped off the veneer. Then I waited. I worried. I never feel 100% comfortable with anything that is so undressed. Often people respond. This time, crickets. At first. Then slowly people who never reach out, reached.

I wrote a piece a few weeks ago that went to Sam's former coworkers, friends, ex-relations, etc. 188 people. I don't know most of them. It's like writing into a void. Screaming into nothing. Dropping a penny and never hearing it plink.