An enlightened journey through a loose fabric of ideas. Boundaries blur between the tangible and the abstract, unraveling the mysteries floating within this cryptic landscape. And don't forget to try our signature sandwich in the cafeteria.
Each day a new thought occurs. A joke, an idea, an enthusiastic statement, a nihilistic sentiment. Every day it fades a little until it's gone. This piece reminds us to take action now, lest the present be forever gone. Runs from January 2026 until a random day when it unexpectedly dies ... just like you will.
Scroll down to get lost in The Neuron soup
The month and days align. Writing is inspired. Once a month? Busy times all can be done.
Let's do that for this year. Consistency not frequency.
When the day and month aligns, the wording is sublime.
HB pencils.
Today over dinner, take turns trying to explain how to make a pie using a secret code because pie-making has been outlawed and if you're overheard explaining how to make a pie, you'll go to prison.
One's thoughts shall be treated as background noise, not useful analysis.
New habits are fucking hard.
Everything has a monthly cost. The price of said thing divided by the number of months you owned it.
Don’t be afraid to go to the wrong party. And don’t be afraid to stand up and leave. Be afraid to stay home.
I have this vision every time I think about planes. It's that when I'm an old man, talking to someone else's grandkids, I'll tell them of the days when anyone with a few hundred dollars could get inside a metal tube and fly through the sky, ending up on the other side of the world.
"What was it like?" They'll ask.
"It was like a train in the sky."
"Wow."
Monkeys don't eat bananas because they particularly like bananas, they just can't afford to pay more than a dollar per pound of fruit.
Today's story is about underwear. You can write the rest.
Underneath the corner table at a Starbucks was a yellow stickie note. Written on it, a name and phone number. Discarded, or never given?
I used to be attracted to women with a gmail address.
I use the army's standards of food preparation: everything need only taste slightly better than a boiled potato.
My hand smells like coffee, which I find strange given where it spent the better part of the morning.
There's a concept in science called gravity. You may have heard of it. It basically it the force with which you are stuck the ground.
You knew that but I started with it to prove a point. First, that shouldn't waste your time reading the intro paragraphs. And second, that you already have one giant force holding you down. So every day of your life you've pushed against it. That is to say, you can and are fighting, no matter how small or inconsequential the punches you land may be.
The great thing about rain is that it washes away the evidence. Blood, for instance, trickles into the nearest drain. The sound of heavy rain drowns out screams and keeps people at a distance. No one wants to be in a confrontation when they're soaking head to toe.
When you strike a match in a cold dark room, that's when you get a glimpse of humanity. It's when you see what people were doing in the dark, behind your back right in front of you.
If you accomplish enough to have a street named after you, it'll probably be renamed in 100 years based on the new standards of the time and something you didn't today that doesn't measure up to an unpredictable future.
Better: chill the fuck out and enjoy the ride.
You don't need to be loved. It's a nice bonus if you are.
"Just nut up and die alone." - Community
This year will be different? It will be just as good as the ones you remember? No. You can't capture the feelings you project on the past. Nothing hidden under paper will let you unwrap the feeling of being eight.
Nostalgia is its own thing. A feeling in the air you can never capture. A coffee on a snowy Sunday in 2005.
Every tradition was started. Plant the tree.
The light clicks on in a cold room.
Computer power, on.
We're beyond the reach of centralized heat. The baseboard heater and computer processor compete to heat the room first. The heater always wins. Fit for purpose, too hot to touch. The thinking laptop surface offers a convenient spot to warm the hands. Something the heater cannot offer. The computer hums smugly.
The almost impercepitble hum of electronic components is all you can hear. Silence fills the room. The day is too young to have a soundtrack.
Open, the notebook. Write out the tasks. Stay on task. The mind warms up with each additional square not yet ticked. Each line a hit of domamine to be release upon complete. Start with some trivial ones to get a taste.
The room is coming to life. The shallow winter sun comes in through the window. Too bright, a breezy curtain drawn to help disperse the assault of photons.
This is the golden hour. The engine is warmed, the open road is next.
Get any step wrong and the wheels could fall off. There's no one else helping keep the car on the road.
It's all on you.
A team is light.
Managers and circumstances, the mirror.
Scope, the wood.
You want the fire of an amazing product?
More light, better mirror alignment, smaller kindling.
That's the whole trick.
Start with the smallest possible fire. Find bright lights and don't scatter their direction. Only add wood when it's roaring.
A problematic trope. The famous billionaire genius coder who built it all themself.
A single coder cannot do it all. Should not do it all. An indie game, possible. An app, possible. A brand new technology, decades of R&D in the making, while running a company? Not possible.
The best solo coders like the best artists -- they remix. Take what's out there and give it their spin. Wonderful things created.
Media shapes perception. Media that portrays billionaires as geniuses, troubled or not, keeps us in the billionaire game.
My most important trivial quality of life developer preference: full-word keywords and variable names. Function not func or fn. User not usr. CheesePizza not ChsPza. The shortened ones slow my mind down more than they speed my fingers up.
Vowels are your frnd.
Clean with vinegar, they say.
They are the vinegar-resistent super-bacteria.
Clean with alcohol, they say.
They are the surface-licking alcoholics.
Software fatigue -- real. My phone -- fewer apps than 2022. My computer -- do more with the default apps.
Your reminder that Reminders is good.
Spreedsheets and ruthless task prioritization are the real key to efficiency.
It's the mid-2000s. JavaScript and PHP are running the web scene. Both, uncontrollable hot mess alcoholics. The absolute worst. You don’t want to stand downwind of either of them.
Years pass. Both get their shit together thanks to a tireless global effort.
Yet only one becomes a run away success. The other slowly loses its grip.
What happened?
JS was a family member. PHP was a friend of the family. When they were a mess, we only had to invite one of them to the parties. The other was easily tossed away.
Had we had a JS alternative in browsers would JS have survived? JS asks itself this question every night before bed. Luck, or talent.
Luck, my prototypical friend.
At some point life will end.
My keystroke counter will stop counting.
How many will I have made? No one will ever know.
An obsession with unknowable statistics is the road to madness.
I grew when the internet was fresh. It was new. Tools were basic. Everything was simple. Intentions were pure. Coding was for fun.
A previous generation had the same with automobiles. Tools were basic. Everything was simple. Intentions were pure. Driving was for fun.
We inherited traffic and pollution and unwalkable neighborhoods to fix. The next generation will get a profit-mongering attention-seeking false-informing internet to fix.
What will be their great newness?
An ancient coder's frustration - Where Is The Error? The computer dance, intricate. Many monitors make minutae. Unable to conceal the breadth of processes to check. It's a story of perseverance. The only way out is through. Logs roll past. Which one holds the key?
When the rubber duck starts asking you questions, it's time to stop for the day.
We software makers are metaphorical modern day factory workers. Well-paid, in-demand, middle-class.
Soon we will be literal modern day factory workers. Poorly-paid, lowest-bidding, rough conditions.
Save your salary. Invest your bonus. Plan for a different sort of future. When the tides turn, the water comes in fast.
Start a new document or slideshow or anything you can add photos to. Create 12 pages or slides, one for each month.
Look through your photos and find the 5-10 best ones of January and drag them onto the page/slide and size and position them as you see fit. Do this every month.
Review at the end of the year.
Pick up my phone, start to scroll, looking for something that doesn't exist.
Too tired for TV. Silence is deafening. I'll do the dishes.
It's almost the end of January, which is almost February, which is almost March, which is almost Spring. Fuck it, I'm not wearing socks today.
The wind whistles and the house shakes. How much shaking can a shaking house shake before a shaking house shakes?
Did you know that 'did you know' is a really odd way to start a recipe video.
Yet I get lots of great ideas from Liam.
intake together nephew oil guess depress naive opinion voyage always throughout manual help thirst
Found in a note from 10 years ago. It might be a password?
A chicken went to a restaurant. The only thing he was able to successfully order was bok choy.
Create a note in your Notes app. Call it Big Jumps. Write down a list of everything that, if it happened or was accomplished by you, would be a happy "holy shit I can't believe that happened" moment.
I do not like brands. But brand loyalty makes decisions easier.
That project you've wanted to work on? Put it out on your dining table. No one's coming over for a party until Spring.
Without including work or vacations, what were your best moments of 2025?
What's your year's theme? If you had to summarize how you want your 2026 to feel in a single word or short phrase, what would you choose?
Open your notes app. Start a note called 'Happy Moments Loosely Ranked'. Start adding items every time you have a happy moment and loosely rank it. Review at the end of the year.
Mars has a 25-hour-ish day. What if earth life descended from some ancient form of Mars life and somewhere deep in our biology is still the coding for a 25-hour day circadian rhythm? Trying to live 24 hour days your whole life would be brutal. Imagine going to 23 hour days now, which would be like now waking up an hour earlier than the day before.
It's cold. These aren't all going to be gold. Or so I've been told.
The unfortunate part about working on your creative skills is that you need things to create.
The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The 2nd best time is 19 years, 364 days ago assuming that year wasn't a leap year and your accuracy level is set to 'day'.
This is your year to become a better -ographer. Videographer, Photographer, Wordographer, Musicographer, Speakographer. Whatever ographering you want to be good start, start today.
The tool doesn't help you create. The goal does.
Leave your house without your phone. It'll be okay.
One option with a lot of configuration? Or multiple smaller options with none?
I don't wanna be in your database. When I leave, forget this face.
You don't need my birthdate to sell me boots.
To lead, one must have followed. To follow, one must have led. The paradox of the concept of group.
"I was led towards lead," he said, then dead.
"I lead where I be'd," she said, then dead.
The uranium, mislabled.
Software makers are metaphorical modern day factory workers. Make stuff, in-demand, enough pay to be middle-class-ish.
Soon software makers will be literal modern day factory workers. Poorly-paid, disposible, rough conditions.
Save your salary. Invest your bonus. Plan for a different sort of future. When the tides turn, the water comes in fast.
You think compounding interest is powerful, have you tried compounding pharmacies? If you start with one pharmacy today and add a pharmacy after every paycheque, by the time you retire you could have enough pharmacies to keep you in pain and boner pills until you die.
My meds said 'take with food' so I stole the pharmacist's lunch.
Nobody cares about you. Wear whatever shoes you want.
We're far too loose with our info. Giving someone your phone number should be like showing them your penis. Your partner, your doctor, maaaaybe the neighbour's wife.
How to solve the targeting ad problem: set your homepage to the mattress company of the mattress you already own. You’ll never see anything but mattress ads everywhere you turn. Do not do this if you need a new mattress.
Game idea: Band Name or Album Name. You see a phrase like 'Lightbulb Watermelon' or something and you have to guess if it's a better potential 'band name' or 'album name'. You win if you guess what the majority of other people guessed. You lose if you get it wrong. The game is to get the longest streak.
Every time it snows I think how lucky we are that snow is just, like, frozen water. If it was, say, sand or wheat flour, it would be such a big mess to clean up. But since we’re heating our homes anyway, it’d be the perfect time to bake a lot of bread.