what is true is that the food from AI menus is real. i have seen it — i have seen the nauseating, churning biomachinery that synthesizes it; the steaming, black chrome giger-esque contraption which pulls the unwilling flesh from mere bits and bytes. i have smelt its foul, sweet miasma, but worse than that: i have heard its muffled screams

ethernet. token ring. the kerberos protocol. magic wormhole. god we used to name technologies properly, with the proper undercurrent of mystery. now look at us: zero trust architecture. grpc-web. web assembly. spiritually-bankrupt industry

built publishing and syndication for microposts and ephemera on my site, so posts like this one are created first on my site and then syndicated out to networks like bsky or mastodon :)

the druidic elders do not ban conferring with the automancers altogether, but they do urge that you balance yourself in kind with complex, challenging written spellcraft and prose. the magic of the machines is tantalizing, but without replenishment, its cost is more cruel than what it gives in return

man we gotta mitigate like. a single disaster

opened linkedin. felt the great inhale of the leviathan, standing at the edge of its maw. felt its desperate hunger, saw the machinery in its bowels rend meaning into waste, blue-green-grey mildew & sawdust. all around me, i saw men & women throw themselves, ambitious, earnest, smiling into the pit

creating a golem to relieve me from the burden of posting but it keeps saying things like “they should create a faith so pure that even its guilt rendered feels as warmth” and “lmao who up transliterating they utterances to tongues heretofore unspoken”

god it feels good to wake up in this skin, this awful snarl of flesh, belonging to the sort of a man who has never had a bad take

tv keeps asking if I wanna skip the intro to the episode. girl this is twin peaks. sit your ass down we’re gonna be watching the intro

don’t ever observe my intersections. there is such unthinkable geometry there, such cosmic & recherché angularity as would drive even your sturdiest men to madness

unfortunately for everyone i’ve been using the computer a lot lately

what if instead of a “quick project sync” we found in each other a love so peculiar & rare it could scarcely be described. one shored & strengthened by each inadequate attempt to construe it in words: we’d share such power to know, in each defiance of definition, our love was as impervious as heaven

“twt is dead!” “bsky is dead!” all of these websites are dead. we scavenge the bones, cavernous ribcages of bygone giants arching overhead like cathedral vaults. and in the diffused shade cast by these dead web gods, we grow gardens

my employer has asked me to stop responding to requests with “light work for a beast like me”

the guys who still can’t tell if they’re sharing their screen after a decade of doing it every single day are gonna tell me which technologies are the future

writing some html and putting it the fUCK online

i’ll go one further, man. i don’t care about how my neighbors got here, and frankly neither do you. they work & struggle & make do same as all of us.

ICE & DHS & immigration laws are the natural convulsions of a beast that understands that borders are violent threats. old friend, we need them not

you are so far from what it means to be human, you have forgot the wild hunt for knowledge & stories, the electricity of creative synthesis, the slow, backwards, fatal fall into love. take fruit directly from the tree and devour it as though you know nothing but desire

i told my friend that it felt like Posting is over — she explained “that’s just because you’re in love”, and what a miraculous fate it would be for us all: that we might gaily Post, hapless young and furious, until we are discover’d by the beginning of the rest of our lives

“i’m always polite to chat gpt so it remembers me later 🤪” you are going to die from water-poison-related typhoid in the Great American Megadesert after a particularly nasty heat surge evaporates the rest of the drinkable rations. you will be buried in the sand.

why chase this fool’s dream of falling in love, super-colliding your heart with another’s; the desperate, mad craving to truly know another, to truly be understood (to be adored nevertheless for it!). why spur such cataclysmic emotion? there are unit tests to be written. there are standups to attend

i do indeed miss old friends in Notepad++, and Dreamweaver, and FileZilla. i miss the excitement of FTP, and the sheen of the first domain i ever bought; the endless ensuing hallways of subsequent subdomains. i miss feeling the modem noises in my teeth, and the dirt of the web beneath my fingernails

you ought to make a website. you ought to make it a canvas, a great irrigated field, a confessional booth. make it an amphitheatre, a private tea service with friends, a graveyard, a bedroom, the sunset light through shutters. you ought to make a personal website, make it carefully, make it home

while the current official number is hotly debated, there are actually far more tags in HTML than the ~150 commonly cited! that number merely represents the ones we’ve discovered and domesticated — there are potentially thousands more in the creeping unexplored corners of the deep web & dark net

“they’ve got an old soul” is such an insane thing to put on a kid. i’m 9 years old, being so deeply unsettling at the family bbq that my aunts have gotta be like “handsome young man! he is the vessel for an ancient & bygone presence”

actually i think machines have learned enough

“✦ summarize this email” girl you are 35 years old and your entire job is moving your mouse so ms teams doesn’t call the cops on your laptop for sleeping. read the email your self

remember five years ago? that was ten years ago. feel old yet

the advent of javascript frameworks was not, as was advertised, to “simplify application state & reactivity” on the web, but rather to satisfy man’s primal urge and fervent desire to Build A Quite Strange And Peculiar Contraption

scientists ought to invent a way out that isn’t through

about:blank is a beautiful name for a baby girl

just got the sad news that we’re gonna have to put down that dog in me