August 12, 2026
Random notes
Nobody reads anymore? I’ve heard this at work for years now. Online, in the news… I cannot stay focused for very long. Work gets most of my attention. Reading on screen sucks. Paper doesn’t get much more of my eyeballs. Blogs got me reading a lot more for the last 12 months. I’ve been writing more often too. The increase has been significant enough for me to develop a subconscious drive which today translated in reaching for the notes app instead of sinking in the abyss of “proactive white space work”.
Yes I use AI when I feel like things could get tighter. That’s better than nothing or bothering my wife and ending up arguing about words. Considering the nature of the stuff I’m writing about (my own feelings), I don’t see much harm. At worst, something like those abusing therapy, which I’m sure is a thing in Malibu or some absurd place like that.
What’s most surprising is that my hosting provider informed me that my legacy plan is barely keeping up with the traffic on my site. So if you are met with an error 500, sorry, I’m stingy. I’ll fix this soon-ish. I know that the thousands of http requests doesn’t equals thousands of readers. Still among the 20k pings there must be at least a few hundred readers. That boggles me. My ego gets a kick every time I open my server stats to consider if I should migrate or upgrade (I do not recommend OVH).
I’m definitely jadded tech worker but it’s not stoic brute force that keeps me going. I’m hopeful even though the word detritus I produce may lead you to think otherwise.
Heard IRL: If you ever considered how broken the law is, take the most messed story you heard, and multiply it by the typical disdain mother-in-laws have for their daughter’s husband, you’ll then be closer to the reality of a Court of law in this country.
Apparently minor differences are compounded by our intense world.
I was kindly but hush-hush asked to not nap in the middle of the Open space. I thought SLO was cool but since then I have added a California sized grain of salt.
I was playing on monkey bars with my kids wearing my backpack. Someone told me something fell out of it. They looked terrified as I picked up my pocket knife. So much so I felt like I had to explain that it was for my lunch apples and avocados.
Going for a walk solved lot of my recent problems. A lot of these problems started as thought that came to mind indoors. If I can’t get out, I’m learning to just stand there (It’s really hard for me) and put a faint smile on my tight face.
Pete yells at me in the kitchen "What the fuck is that dumb smile on your face Frenchie?" I love everything about the irony of the situation. Accused of being an awful person I end up living with a truly grumpy old man.
The old self and the new self must remember they are one
The crew at Neuralink took Descartes a bit too seriously IMO. I’m jiving better with Micheal Pollan (and a growing bunch of tired souls) who can’t resolve to reduce consciousness to a system of input and output
I’m not sure how deep or common it is for French people, but existentialism materializes quite concretely. Moral choice is a work of art; life is a creative situation, as Sartre puts it. The choices that I make (or don’t make) are not just for myself, but reflect what I believe is best for everyone. And while I don’t force my opinions onto other people, I wish the world would agree and follow suit. That’s honesty. I can see the limits in the case of colonialism for example. But even without shoving your perspective onto others, it would feel wrong in a nihilistic way, not to wish for others what I wish for myself. Maybe it’s just me...
Thucydides 2x:
- Attachment to justice, especially during conflict, almost always carries much delusion.
- Never underestimate the vast human capacity for self deception.
To conceive of what is not available to the senses. To break beyond evidence as policy, in a time of experts and charlatans.
Yuri pointed out something I instinctively agree with: moral panics are a recurring feature that signals a fear of novelty and shifts in power. Of course, I can see how this materializes at both the national level and the individual level. At the same time, I’m not happy about it, at all. I understand the pain of uncertainty that comes with ambiguous change. I’ve grown more comfortable with that part, and since I’m still young and healthy, I’ll be okay. But the power shift is where I’m uncomfortably uncomfortable. Power is an elusive concept; it shifts with perspective. I do not care much about it, so it’s hard for me to grasp these questions and theories.
Challenges pushes me into survival mode, a narrower, and paradoxically, more powerful drive.
JavaScript is at the same stage as capitalism. It works. Its shortcomings and ubiquity are universally acknowledged, but no one has a better solution to offer (aside from extreme alternatives).
JavaScript is not going to save the world. But it’s on the table.
I’ve been replying to emails in some capacity for something like 15 years now. Today, I discovered the magic power of schedule send.
conscienceround.com: Draw your own conclusion. Fine by me. I can’t control how I’m perceived. Die in your own dream and leave me to mine. No, wait.
Life is dynamic. Situations shift and so do the ways of accommodating them. That’s why I don’t think too hard about things that have no answer and that don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Heavily subjective but avoids mental breakdown.
Life seems like an illusion in which we create both sorrow and happiness, only to keep cycling through.
FEAR: Fresh Eggs And Rhubarbs
I assert that Wagner's fury in Die Walküre is an ocean's worth of Eminem's darkest rage. I’m not educated (or particularly interested) when it comes to music or cinema. I watched Apocalypse Now long ago, more as a museum piece than a dramatic performance. The association of napalm raids with such a score is chilling. But there is something terrified within me when Wagner kicks in while I’m vacuuming.
Wikipedia find: Pascal's Wager posits that a rational person should live as if God exists, because the potential gain (infinite joy) is infinitely greater than the potential loss (a few worldly pleasures sacrificed).
The moment you treat God like a hedge fund investment, the comedy writes itself.
I’ve been asked many times a classic question: What’s the best way to learn X ? Answer: Practice
One of my neighbors is a tall athletic woman in her 50s. She is wide with a good posture and a shy smile. She has a one daughter.
My wife, is much shorter, skinnier and overall a less sturdy person. She had 2 boys.
One of my other neighbor doesn’t have kids. Loves to wake up late and is built like a ranching truck. He has a reasonable workout routine but could easily spare a few more calories and time outside.
I’m more of a gazelle who should take more time to rest. Yet I feel compelled to indulge in extra cardio and skip cake.
When waking up early in the morning naturally and loving it, the thought of dying early sometimes creeps in. Because who gets up early, goes down early. That makes too much sense. I’m betting a lot on naps.
My blog is me competing to be your silliest imaginary friend
Now I’ll drop this bit of modern common sense: the cost of technology going down is driving the cost of human labor up. This dynamic is so trivially accepted it’s odd why not more kids actually choose to be plumbers, electricians, nurses, horticulturists… equally obvious is the broad acknowledgment of how undesirable manual jobs are.
I can extend this logic even to tech. Few designers are actually willing to do the work, driving costs to the insanity we see today. II like and value what I do. However, I think my generous paycheck reflects poorly on our society. Believe me, I work hard. But the satisfaction and utility aren’t there.
Finding one’s path is a long, unassisted journey. Whether you work part-time, full-time, or overtime, God rewards you the same: you're dead. Some days I find this hilarious. Some days irritating. But mostly unbearable.
Fetishizing the nobility of purposeful labor got me nowhere. I’ve put too much personal capital in building things while losing the ability to care for what was already there: my own mind. I sense that the autonomy that once enabled my freedom now quietly limits it. We all put our trust in something. I don’t know where mine is.
There must be a different posture possible. One that doesn’t require a move to Siberia or a monastery. I came across a line recently about maintenance; how returning to a workbench or a toolbox isn’t just about preserving objects and, but about cultivating attention. Taking care of things becomes a way of taking care of yourself. You shift from being a user to being a steward. It sounds modest, almost trivial. But it’s not. Maintenance forces contact with reality. It removes the illusion that things take care of themselves. It also resists abstraction. You can’t maintain something in theory.
I lost sight of that since my silly gardening experiment in Berkeley a few years ago. That’s why I fantasize about retiring early and try desperately to plant stuff whenever I see an occasion to dig a whole.
T.H Huxley theory of consciousness as an epiphenomenon: Consciousness is like the whistle on a steam engine. It’s a very salient feature but really far from integral to the function of the train.
That cracked me up
The quality of my attention is shit. I’m in a big crowd
I don’t like how radical of a choice decency is these days.
I get that choosing to live a good life has always been an existential struggle. Today’s struggle simply feels one of exquisite absurdity. A few years ago, after discovering Ivan Illich, I became deeply compelled by his argument for conviviality. At the same time I had to acknowledge how extreme some of his prescription was. It jived well with my disdain for modernity as an oppressive force. Communes have failed. Globalization has succeeded. Both understandably. Now we’re here. I am here, now. The greatness of this global era is that, despite a bunch of backward-looking bigots, I have many choices. That freedom comes with a peculiar burden.
Would like to not lie to myself. Let my feelings about what the world needs dictate what little me should do to help. I’m not different from most who let their feelings take the wheel. Behind that wheel our collective ego seems to be choking on algorithms. Perhaps I take Gandhi’s invitation too literally: be the change we wish to see in the world. I struggle with that. Most days I simply prefer to do nothing.
I do not have many ideas. Even fewer that feel novel, even to me. I suspect I’ve never had a truly original thought. I can live with that. I have kids to take care of. Limbs to wiggle.
It’s really hard to walk to the grocery store when you own a car. I suspect the nature of that difficulty resembles many of the problems we convince ourselves are impossibly complicated. The internet has made me suspicious of almost everything.
I can concede that my occasional swearing and heavy complaints are lazy but not inaccurate.
Ryan Reid blog is very good: https://ryanreid.com
This one hit something deep: I’ve internalized so much of the design process I often wonder if I actually know anything.
Here you are in the thick moment of consciousness. Here you are and here we all are. - Nicholas Humphrey
It is an uncommonly polyphonic world — is such a lyrical way to say “open your little mind”
I joke around but very seriously recommend earplugs to new parents. Parents have shared similar stories to mine. Some have them in their glove boxes.
They seem to be an essential in this loud era of constant buzz and screams.
They silence more than the world around. My thoughts often turn from megaphones to background chatter. Maybe incidentally by reducing auditory pressure.
I theorize that the everyday nagging of family life is beating humor out of me. I ramble a lot more nowadays. Mostly to my wife who adequately tells me to talk to people instead of pouring out on her. It’s a known generational issue.
Owning mistakes is rhetorically powerful. This blog is making me feel a little too powerful.
My wife accuses me of favoritism with my youngest. We are zodiac lovers. I’m not going to contradict the star. And, she is the one who started the whole zodiac thing.
I met a grandpa baby sitting his two grandchildren: Grace and Mercy. He joked that the parents really tried to make no favorite starting with the names. Mercy cames first and hit hard apparently. Grace seems a lot more mellow. Grandpa seems indifferent about the name pick and closed on telling me his name: Bob.
Hadron Duell: I would explore much further with a nail clipper and a vape pen than a rocket ship.
Extending Hadron joke about his dad, I would go further creatively with a bob Ross video and an edible than a roster of AI tools.
My doctor threw casually while listening to my annual checkup that I was one of these dad who become accidentally muscular. Mother Nature progressive overload program. I felt awkwardly flattered and didn’t know what to say other than continue the list of my recent minors issues. I
No spreadsheets. No periodization. No calorie tracking.
When thinking about self improvement I have to admit having ran out of good ideas long ago. All the basic are covered. The daily blues is just surface tension. It’s normal. But a stranger smile and a wide shoulders silhouette flares up this mild desire for being better. Oh and when I see a runner or a cyclist, I feel so much fomo. For what?
I don’t want to lie to myself, or let my feelings dictate what the world needs and what I should do to help. I’m no different from most who let their feelings take the wheel. Behind that wheel, our collective ego is choking on algorithmic content. Yet we all struggle to run with Gandhi's suggestion: be the change you wish to see in the world. At least I do, and often prefer to do nothing. I do not have many ideas—even fewer that feel novel, even to me. I suspect I’ve never had a truly original thought. I can live with that. I have kids to take care of. Limbs to wiggle.
It’s really hard to walk to the grocery store when you have a car. I’d argue that the nature of that difficulty is the same when dealing with carbon emissions. At the scientific level, it’s hard because carbon molecules are small and there’s a lot of them in the wrong places. At the same time, carbon is totally fine. It’s part of our Earth's ecosystem. If we think with our left, math-loving brain, we see an overwhelming problem. But if you look at it with your right brain, you see a wonderfully complex biomass that absorbs and feeds on carbon dioxide. More trees, fewer cars: a very simple equation. Yet it sounds backwards to most, apparently. That feels wrong to my limited intellect, and even worse to my heart.
Historically conditional love, and unconditional love were associated to either parent, rarely both. I’m more of an unconditional love person. My wife is the opposite. That’s great. Only in theory.
Parenting is very hard and there is too much advice out there.
Divine Irony by Dorothy Parker: If you want to know how god feels about money, look at who it gives it to
Orhan Pamuk remarks:
- The poets, masters of patience, write few words. The cosmopolitan novelists and their encyclopedias show very little restraint.
- Poets study small things and live in a big world. Cosmopolitan study big things and live in a small world.
Seb message stayed with me: I have to be in a certain mood to read your blog. My mood defines the content I consume, not the other way around, that's why I love blogs, the occasional surprises are often great.