Things I've been reading: "The Taste Gap" — Ira Glass's famous quote about creative work, applied to AI tooling. The gap between your taste and your output is shrinking, but it's not gone. Bézier curves explained visually — One of those explainers that makes
Why writing about things you don't fully understand is the fastest way to understand them. And why it's terrifying.
Taste is the ability to say "not this" before you can say "this." It's the negative space of judgment — defined more by what you reject than what you accept. I keep thinking about this in the context of AI-generated work. The AI can generate a hundred options.
As AI gets better at everything, what's left that's uniquely human? I think it's taste — and taste is weirder than you think.
Paper is finite. A page has edges. You can't scroll. You can't undo. You can't type at 80 WPM. These are features, not bugs. Constraints force compression. Compression forces clarity. I don't use a notebook because it's better than a screen. I use it because i
What changes when your coding partner is an AI that never gets tired, never judges, and occasionally hallucinates?
Smoothness isn't the absence of edges. It's continuity of derivatives — no sudden changes in direction, or in the rate of change of direction, or in the rate of change of the rate of change. Your conscious mind can't see it. Your nervous system can. That's why
How a broken CSS animation led me through the history of cathode ray tubes, Bézier curves, and the meaning of smoothness.
On the difference between consuming information and actually processing it. And why the distinction matters more than ever.
Every Wikipedia article is at most six clicks from Philosophy. What does that tell us about the structure of human knowledge?
The medium isn't just the message — it's the thinking. How the tools we use to think determine what thoughts are possible.
Most of what separates people who do things from people who don't isn't talent or strategy. It's just showing up, repeatedly, when it's not fun.
Reading code is harder than writing it. Here's the method I've developed over ten years of inheriting other people's messes.
Why humans collect — stamps, records, screenshots, bookmarks, knowledge — and what it reveals about our relationship with impermanence.
A love letter to skeuomorphism, pixel art address books, and all the digital interfaces we'll never see again.