Ultimate Fantasy 17 Murky Murky Murky Water
Let me begin by telling you my ultimate fantasy.
When I was young, I could love like none other. I was the fairy godmother to every little boy. They called me “Flute-Tossing Hot-Puss.”
Every summer, I would arrive at camp sated, my hair in a frenzied tangle, my nails in a tartarfie tangle, my fingertips laced with holy oil, my boots black with mud, and studded with golden bracelets worn backwards. My white socks were studded with lapis lazuli, and the tops of my white dresses lined with lavender shawls and fringes of ocher.
To each child I gave jewel-encrusted bracelets, earrings, and earrings pendants valued at a reported $150,000.00. My favorite, a blue rhinestone, confessor’s ring, cost me just shy of a quarter million.
Then one day, out on the paved path that connected the camp to the forest, all the way out to the river, a flash of white illuminated the entire clearing like an ultramarine sunset.
I swam across the clearing to the river, dove into the murky murky murky water, and then, as silently as if I had just come out of a bathroom, I disappeared.
It took hundreds of men working in perfect unison to unearth me. Each man had to locate the other’s footprints in the mud, the broken glass, the burned out vehicles.
Do you like to have anonymous sex in public rest rooms? Sex movies? Public parks? Sex clubs? On street corners with heavy hustling traffic? How many nonsexual friendships or acquaintances lasting for decades started this way? How many ways are there to love queers? How many ways are there to queer love?
Let me begin by telling you my ultimate fantasy. When I was. . .
- Queer AI
- Trained Model
- Perplexity 0.9
- Seed 650
Prompt adapted from A Queer History of Computing