My 1990s financial hunches sounded really stupid. What did I know. And then…

Yes, "Now". Here and now. Whatever's going on — isn't it just the big picture on pause?

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?

You might wonder why some of my posts seem to interrupt themselves, like I'm trying to get chucked out of my own talk. Reader. Trust.

What if, in hindsight, the director's cut of your life reverse engineers your current grasp of common sense.

Some things are frankly impossible. Like seeing a spider thread at the end of the garden without binoculars. Then — oh…!

Gimme shelter, sang the Rolling Stones. Give everyone headphones and a study booth, might be the 2027 remix.

The Trinity is like a cloverleaf, I was told. Really? I thought, and proceeded to teach a lesson on hamsters.

The kinds of questions around mystery that end up drifting because they're not allowed to land — in this lifetime — without permission.

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.

In a final note for now about AI, I say something about the use and abuse of logic and grammar.

The unfolding of Chapter Seventeen's architecture and approach feels compelling. I’m thinking aloud here about potential areas of research.

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

It’s amazing how you can look at an ordinary sofa and automatically find yourself thinking of three sitcoms and the Muppet Show.

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.

It was a sad day when we heard Catherine O'Hara had passed away. But AI told me not to worry.

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.