I’ve had some version of a personal website since 2001.
That’s not a brag. It’s context. Because a lot has changed in twenty-five years of the internet. From platforms, algorithms, attention spans, and the entire business model of being online, and through all of it, I’ve kept paying for a domain name and putting words on it. That persistence probably deserves an explanation.
Here it is.
I quit social media, or most of it, a while back. Not in a dramatic, manifesto-posting way. I just got tired of it. Too much noise, too little signal, too many opinions about things that wouldn’t matter in a week. The feeds were engineered to keep me there, and I resented how well it worked.
However, I still wanted to write. I still wanted a place to think out loud, share what I was reading, and point at things I found interesting. I just wanted to do it somewhere I controlled, on my terms, without an algorithm deciding who saw it or a platform deciding what was allowed.
That’s what this site is. It’s the digital hub for writing, thinking, and sharing.
There’s a version of a personal website that functions as a résumé. It’s a place to list credentials, impress potential clients, and demonstrate authority. That’s not this site. If you need to evaluate me for a job, my LinkedIn will do that better.
This site is closer to what used to be called a “home page” back when that phrase meant something. A place on the web that is genuinely mine. Not rented like a social media presence, or subject to a terms-of-service update, or dependent on a company staying solvent and keeping the doors open.
I like the internet when it works like a neighborhood. People with their own houses, their own front porches, making things because they want to. This site is my porch.
Dear reader, I don’t know exactly who you are. Maybe you found the newsletter first and came here to learn more. Maybe you Googled me for professional reasons and ended up somewhere unexpected. Maybe you stumbled in from a blogroll or a Micro.blog thread or a link someone passed along.
Whoever you are: welcome. Stay as long as you’d like. There’s no algorithm here trying to keep you. If something you read makes you want to reply, my email is on the About page. That’s the pitch.
It’s a quiet street. I like it that way.