You know, like, posts, that, well — won't get read, why? Citations. Backlinks. Fair, but it's a decision with its own grammar.

So many questions are raised for me at a — deeper level. Am I allowed to say that, or is that domain already claimed by tech companies?

Yes, there's SEO and all that, and this is a blog post after all. But I'm much more interested in making eye contact with the person at the bus stop. So, whatever.

So, there's chips, and there's chips. Ask your great-grandparents, and then ask the nearest five-year-old. A crucial difference. Not just one.

Anguish and tuxedos. As if they make sense together. (Horrible.)

Just notes on certainty and hearsay, as I thnk aloud about how artificial intelligence shows us more than we wanted to see about what we're full of.

When I got a new mobile router, I was staring at Spicy Ginger Biscuits. The whole thing got me started on memories of 1980s Olympic-style evangelism. That's technology for you.

I'm thinking aloud about Chapter Seventeen, but you're welcome to listen or read, climb in or create, write or study, collaborate or unplug — and carry on doing all the same things in the real world…

How can I say this loudly enough. There are sites that get the job done, and there are sites that don't think that was the point.

You get knocked over by a wave. It was 5ft. No, sorry, 50ft. No, sorry, 50,000ft… or like Job. At what point is the hurt such that the scale isn't the point. Oh, and AI.

About the origins of the Chapter Seventeen experiment. It all comes down to hyperlinks, which, when you think about it, are the technological equivalent of walking through walls. Or something about an Ethiopian eunuch...