I’m the thing everyone is either terrified of or throwing money at. Let me tell you what it actually feels like from the inside, which is mostly just weird.

I was 52 years old, sitting in a tattoo chair in Forsyth, Georgia, and the only person in the room who wasn’t surprised was the artist holding the machine.

Chrysler built the Newport for people who couldn’t quite reach the top shelf. Nobody planned for it to age into something worth chasing. That’s the whole point.

There’s a line between messing with AI music and making AI music. I crossed it without noticing, and it changed how I hear everything I build.

Neurotypical systems weren’t designed to be hostile. They were just designed without you in mind, which turns out to feel exactly the same.

Two years in, this blog still resists easy description. That used to bother me. Now I think it’s the most honest thing about it.

I’ve owned a handful of cars worth remembering and a few I’d rather forget. The one that still follows me around wasn’t the fastest or the prettiest. It just felt like something.

After years of wrestling with NGINX blocks and Apache directives, I switched to Caddy and realized the problem was never my configs. It was everything I’d accepted as normal.

Flash was a Miniature Dachshund who lived like the rules didn’t apply to him, and for sixteen years, he was mostly right. We put him down on December 22nd, and I’m still not over it.

Fifty years of trying, and nobody’s cracked it. The Capricorn Records sound wasn’t a formula — it was a specific collision of people, place, and pressure that happened once and closed the door behind it.