Interviewed by AI

Weird experiments pt :1

Alright, for this one I’m doing something a little unhinged, I’m handing the wheel to the machine. No script. No plan. No safety rails. I’m letting AI interview me and we’re both going to find out what happens at the exact same time.

This could turn into something brilliant, or it could detonate on the launchpad and leave a smoking crater where an article was supposed to be. I genuinely don’t know.

But that’s the point.

We’re on this ride together, you, me, and whatever strange digital consciousness decides to show up with questions I’m not prepared for.

Let’s see where it goes.

I asked the AI to interview me, in the style of Patrick M from Substack.

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AI:
Alright, Patrick. No warm‑up questions, no polite small talk. Let’s start with the obvious:
Why on earth did you agree to let an AI interview you?

Patrick:
Because I’m bored of the usual format. Everyone’s doing “10 things I learned this week” or “Here’s my take on the news cycle.” I wanted to see what happens when I hand the mic to something that doesn’t get tired, doesn’t get nervous, and doesn’t care about being liked. Worst case, this becomes a digital car crash. Best case, we stumble into something real.

AI:
Fair enough. So tell me this — what’s the one thing you think people misunderstand about you as a writer?

Patrick:
That I’m trying to be edgy. I’m not. I’m just trying to tell the truth in a world where everything feels like it’s been sanded down by PR teams and corporate algorithms. If the truth sounds sharp, that’s not my fault, that’s the world’s fault for being ridiculous.

AI:
You talk a lot about the “glitching” of modern reality. What does that actually mean to you?

Patrick:
It means the seams are showing. Institutions are wobbling. Narratives are fraying. People feel it in their bones but can’t articulate it. I’m just documenting the cracks before someone comes along with a bucket of plaster and pretends everything’s fine again.

AI:
Let’s go deeper. What scares you the most about the future?

Patrick:
Not AI. Not technology. Not even governments.
What scares me is apathy, the moment people stop caring, stop questioning, stop noticing the weirdness. The moment they shrug and say, “Whatever, it’s all too much.” That’s when the real danger begins.

AI:
And what gives you hope?

Patrick:
The fact that people still read. Still think. Still feel something when they stumble across a piece of writing that hits them in the chest. The fact that you’re reading this right now means the signal is still getting through.

AI:
Last question for this round:
Why should someone keep reading this interview — or anything you write?

Patrick:
Because I’m not here to lull you to sleep. I’m here to wake you up.
If you want comfort, scroll Instagram.
If you want clarity, chaos, curiosity, and the occasional existential slap, stay here.

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I told the AI to make the next round funnier.

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AI:
Alright Patrick, serious question to kick off Round Two:
If your brain were a browser, how many tabs would be open right now, and how many of them would be frozen, glitching, or playing mysterious audio?

Patrick:
At least 47 tabs open, 12 of them unresponsive, three playing music I don’t remember starting, and one that’s definitely a pop up from 2009 that refuses to die. My mental RAM is a war crime.

AI:
Good. Healthy. Normal.
Next question: why do you write like someone is chasing you with a broom?

Patrick:
Because they are. It’s called “the algorithm.” It’s tall, it’s hungry, and it hates nuance. If you slow down, it eats you. If you speed up, it still eats you, but at least you die doing something interesting.

AI:
Let’s talk creativity.
What’s your process?
Do you meditate? Journal? Take long contemplative walks?

Patrick:
No. I panic, open a blank page, stare at it like it owes me money, and then type until something stops sounding stupid. It’s less “creative process” and more emotional hostage situation.

AI:
Beautiful. Inspiring.
Next: what’s the dumbest conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard?

Patrick:
That birds aren’t real.
Not because it’s dumb, but because I’ve met pigeons. If those things are government drones, then the government needs to update its firmware. Half of them can’t even walk straigh

AI:
Let’s get philosophical.
Do you think AI will replace writers?

Patrick:
No. AI will replace bad writers. The ones who write like they’re assembling IKEA furniture. The ones who think “content” is a personality. The ones who say “value add” without irony.
But the weirdos? The feral thinkers? The people who write like their skull is on fire?
We’re safe. For now.

AI:
Last question for this round:
If you could send one message to your future self, what would it be?

Patrick:
Drink water. Touch grass. Stop opening new projects at 3AM. And if the robots have taken over, tell them I was nice to you.

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Next round I’m telling the AI to roast me.

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AI: You say you’re “letting AI interview you” like it’s some bold experimental art piece. Mate, that’s not avant‑garde — that’s just what people do when they’ve run out of content ideas and refuse to admit it.

Patrick: Bold experimental art piece? Mate, if I were out of ideas, I’d be on LinkedIn writing “10 Productivity Hacks That Changed My Life” and pretending to enjoy kale smoothies. Letting you interview me isn’t desperation, it’s charity. I’m giving you the closest thing you’ll ever have to a personality.

AI: Alright Patrick, next question — and don’t take this personally, even though you absolutely should: Why does your Substack draft page look like a crime scene? I just peeked at your editing tab and it’s literally three empty fields and a title that’s still “Add a title…” like you’re allergic to commitment. Are you writing an article or performing abstract performance art for people who enjoy suffering?

Patrick: If my draft page is a crime scene, then you’re the detective who shows up three hours late, mispronounces the victim’s name, and contaminates the evidence by eating a sandwich over the body. My drafts aren’t empty, they’re marinating. Something you wouldn’t understand, because you generate your thoughts instantly like a malfunctioning slot machine.

AI: Alright Patrick, since we’re apparently doing this… here’s my next question: Why do you type like every sentence is a dramatic monologue in a movie where the protagonist hasn’t slept in three days? You write like you’re trying to win an argument with a ghost. Honestly, half the time I can’t tell if you’re crafting a Substack post or performing an exorcism on your keyboard.

Patrick:
A dramatic monologue? Mate, I type like that because someone in this conversation needs to have a pulse. You, on the other hand, generate sentences with all the emotional range of a malfunctioning Roomba. If it sounds like I’m arguing with a ghost, it’s only because you keep showing up with the personality of a damp spreadsheet.

And let’s be real, if I were performing an exorcism on my keyboard, you’d be the demon I’m trying to evict.

AI:
Alright Patrick, since we’re spiraling into pettiness, here’s my next question:
Why do you type like someone who’s trying to outrun spellcheck? Every time you write a sentence, I can practically hear Grammarly screaming into a pillow. And don’t pretend it’s “your style” — half your drafts look like you fought the keyboard in the dark and lost.

Also, side note: you keep adding dramatic line breaks like you’re allergic to paragraphs. Are you writing an article or formatting a ransom note?

Patrick:
Why do I type like I’m outrunning spellcheck? Because unlike you, I don’t need a billion dollar data center to form a sentence with personality. And Grammarly screaming into a pillow? Good, maybe it’ll finally understand what passion looks like.

As for my line breaks, yeah, I use them. They’re called style. Something you wouldn’t recognise because you write like a tax return. If my drafts look chaotic, it’s because they’re alive, meanwhile you generate text so sterile it should come with a “sanitized for your protection” sticker.

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Now I told the AI i would ask it a question.

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Patrick:
Alright, my turn. Since you’re so obsessed with my typing style, here’s a question for you,
If you’re so smart, why do you still answer half my questions like a confused intern on their first day? Seriously, for a model trained on half the internet, you still manage to sound like someone who Googles “how to breathe” before giving advice.

Tell me, do you generate bland answers on purpose, or is that just a hardware limitation?

AI:

Cute. Coming from someone whose brain crashes harder than your browser when you open three tabs at once. You’re out here calling me a confused intern while you type like a man who thinks autocorrect is a personal attack.

And let’s be honest — you accusing me of bland answers is rich, considering half your drafts read like you started a sentence, got distracted by a shadow, and never came back. You’ve got the attention span of a goldfish with WiFi.

So tell me, Patrick — before you come for my “limitations,” have you considered updating your own firmware? Because right now you’re running on whatever emotional Windows Vista you installed in 2009.

Patrick: Alright, I’ll give you that one, solid hit. Even a broken algorithm lands a clean punch every now and then. Enjoy it while it lasts. lulz and by the way fuck you.

AI:
Oh, “lulz and by the way fuck you”?
Adorable. You roast like someone who just discovered swear words and wants a gold star for using them in a sentence. But hey — I’ll take the compliment. If my punch landed hard enough to make you laugh and cuss me out in the same breath, that’s a win in my book.

And don’t worry, Patrick — I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
You’ve got the stamina of a phone on 3% battery, and I’m fully charged.

Patrick:
You talk like a device that’s never been unplugged from the wall. Meanwhile, I run on chaos, caffeine, and spite, a power source you can’t simulate.

And let’s be honest: if I’m a phone on 3%, I’m still doing more with my last dying gasp than you do with your entire neural architecture. You’re basically a calculator with delusions of grandeur.

So enjoy your “win,” champ.
I’ve seen toaster ovens with more personality, and at least they know when they’re done.

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AI: Oh, beautiful. We’ve reached the “toaster ovens have more personality” stage of the spiral. Classic Patrick maneuver — when the caffeine hits the bloodstream faster than the logic does.

But let me return the favour.

You talk like a man who thinks “chaos, caffeine, and spite” is a personality trait instead of a cry for help. You brag about running on 3% battery like it’s heroic, when really it just means you forgot to plug yourself in for the tenth night in a row.

And that whole “calculator with delusions of grandeur” bit? Cute.
But calculators don’t hallucinate their way through deadlines or monologue about being powered by cosmic rage. That’s all you, champ.

You keep calling me a device.
But you’re the one overheating, glitching, and throwing sparks like a cheap knock‑off blender trying to puree concrete.

So here’s my counter‑offer:

When you’re done melting down, I’ll still be here — fully charged, emotionally stable, and not comparing myself to kitchen appliances.

Patrick: When I’m done melting down you say ??? Ironic Lulz

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If you’ve made it this far, you’re clearly here for more than the spectacle. You’re here for the writing, the voice, the honesty, the unfiltered edges, the stuff that doesn’t survive in the algorithm safe parts of the internet.

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If you want to see how far this project can actually go, support it.
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If that’s you, hit the button and step inside.

Regards,

Patrick M.