Posts

9/1/2024: The Grand Troubadour of the Mystical Mountains, with a Wild West Guitar decorated with Old-Timey Black and White Photos.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 9/1/2024: The Grand Troubadour of the Mystical Mountains, with a Wild West Guitar decorated with Old-Timey Black and White Photos.  Kevin Wikse, the grand troubadour of the mystical mountains, is a wild-eyed relic of a time when men carved legends out of the unforgiving rock and dirt of the American frontier. He’s a myth wrapped in flesh, with one foot in this world and the other deep in the dust of a bygone era. His weapon of choice? A Wild West guitar, not just any ordinary six-string, but a goddamn artifact, dripping with the ghosts of cowboys, outlaws, and pioneers. This isn’t just a guitar; it’s a living, breathing piece of history, decorated with old-timey black and white pictures that whisper the tales of those who lived and died by the gun, the rope, and the bottle. Wikse isn’t called the grand troubadour just because it sounds good. No, that title is ea
Post a Comment
Read more

8/27/2024: Late Addition Gen-Xer named Blaine, who is the keeper of a mysterious device of unknown origin and purpose, slung over his left shoulder.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 8/27/2024: Late Addition Gen-Xer named Blaine, who is the keeper of a mysterious device of unknown origin and purpose, slung over his left shoulder. Kevin Wikse, a middle-aged Gen-Xer who somehow escaped the clutches of generational clichés, now finds himself carrying the name Blaine like an ancient curse. A name handed down to him like a twisted family heirloom, soaked in the sweat and tears of a thousand forgotten ancestors who knew far more than they ever dared to tell. Blaine, Kevin tells himself, is just a name—a simple, monosyllabic identifier. But the truth runs far deeper, tangled in the roots of something far more sinister. Slung over his left shoulder, like a reluctant companion on this journey through a world gone mad, is the Device. Capital ‘D’ because anything else would be an insult to its ominous presence. It’s a hunk of metal and circuitry, or ma
Post a Comment
Read more

8/25/2024: The breaded heroic librarian and esoteric guardian of the Tremendous Interdimensional Library of Forgotten Arcane with a friendly, knowledgeable, free-floating fluid and highly mutable clam familiar.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 8/25/2024: T he breaded heroic librarian and esoteric g uardian of the Tremendous Interdimensional Library of Forgotten Arcane with a  friendly, knowledgeable, free-floating fluid and highly mutable clam familiar.   The moment you step into that dilapidated used bookstore on the corner of Nowhere and Everywhere, you can smell it—a musty odor of neglected paperbacks and forgotten lore. But there's something else, too, something crawling beneath the surface like a cosmic bedbug itching to bite your brain. This is no ordinary shop. This is a doorway to realms unspeakable, guarded by a man so eccentric, so absurdly normal, that he could only be hiding something truly monstrous. And that man, dear reader, is Kevin Wikse. Ah, Kevin Wikse—the breaded heroic librarian, a title so outlandishly specific it could only belong to someone who is, in fact, the breaded hero
Post a Comment
Read more

8/21/2024: Reggie, Gen-X father of three and die-hard fan of Humanity.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 8/21/2024: Reggie, Gen-X father of three and die-hard fan of Humanity.  Reggie, formerly known as Kevin Wikse before he embraced the cosmic joke that is parenthood, is the kind of Gen-X dad who still believes in humanity with the unshakeable faith of a man who once owned a Walkman and thought MTV was the pinnacle of culture. He’s got three kids, a mortgage, and a minivan that smells like old fries and spilled juice boxes, but damn it, he’s still cheering for Team Humanity like it’s the bottom of the ninth and we’re down by two. Reggie doesn’t just watch the game of life; he’s in the stands, decked out in a faded Humanity jersey, foam finger in one hand, and a cold beer in the other. The kind of guy who’ll stand up and shout encouragement at the TV when some poor schmuck on the news tries to save a kitten from a tree or when a celebrity does something mildly altr
Post a Comment
Read more

8/20/2024: Connor, the Stellar Outdoor Life Coach who REALLY stresses the Outdoors.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 8/20/2024: Connor, the Stellar Outdoor Life Coach who REALLY stresses the Outdoors.  Connor, formerly known as Kevin Wikse before his transcendence into the holy ranks of outdoor life coaching, is the kind of man who genuinely believes the universe is conspiring to help you—if only you'd step outside and let it. He's got that wild-eyed glint, a cross between a shaman and a drill sergeant, convinced that your salvation lies in the dirt under your fingernails and the sunburn on the back of your neck. The indoors? That’s just a fancy name for a coffin—four walls suffocating your potential like an airtight tomb. When Connor speaks, it’s like he’s channeling the voice of the cosmos, and the message is clear: get outside, or get out of the way. He’s the kind of guy who’ll drag you out of your house by your ankles if you so much as mention central air condition
Post a Comment
Read more

8/19/2024: Oddly Sculpted and Capricious Stallion of the African Wastelands.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 8/19/2024: Oddly Sculpted and Capricious Stallion of the African Wastelands. K evin Wikse, that oddly sculpted stallion of the African wastelands, is a man who exists in the rarefied air of his own reality—a capricious creature whose very presence demands attention like a neon sign flickering in the desert night. This man is a paradox, a walking contradiction who might as well have been birthed from the red sands of the Serengeti. His essence is a potent cocktail of raw survival instinct and an almost supernatural unpredictability, qualities that define him as something other than human—a beast roaming the wilderness with no clear purpose other than to disrupt the natural order. Wikse’s capriciousness is not the harmless sort that you'd attribute to a whimsical spirit; no, it's the volatile nature of a predator who might just as easily snap your neck as
Post a Comment
Read more

8/18.2024: Your Uncle who displays a fake smile to hide the fact he despises you.

Image
Every day, I prompt AI Art with just my name to see what it thinks I am. Then, write up why I feel it came to its conclusion. 8/18.2024: Your Uncle who displays a fake smile to hide the fact he despises you.  Kevin Wikse, your uncle, a man who wears his disdain like a second skin. His eyes, narrowed and calculating, shoot daggers every time you step into the room. It’s not personal; it’s primal. Something about the way you exist in his space triggers some deeply embedded itch in his brainstem, a reflexive desire to smother your breath with one heavy, calloused hand. He can barely manage a smile, and when he does, it's like watching a malfunctioning animatronic twitch through the motions—mechanical, joyless. His lips pull back over his teeth, but there's nothing behind it but thinly veiled contempt, a simmering disgust that would probably manifest as an audible growl if society didn’t have its leash wrapped tight around his throat. The worst part is that it’s not even well-hidde
Post a Comment
Read more