A Room for Restless Thoughts
This started the way most interesting things do:
not with a plan, but with a pattern.
Around midnight, long after a twilight hush had wrapped the world in it’s rosy quiet, a certain kind of idea would show up—stray tangents, shower thoughts, really, really essential metaepistemological quandaries like, “Can we really even know the difference between a table a desk? How though?” And then they started demanding sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and somewhere to sit, and if it wasn’t too much of a bother, would I go ahead put some tea on?
They were uninvited, always excessively over- or under-dressed, and annoyingly persistent.
Although rarely brilliant, they were never boring.
Although often relentless, they were sometimes charming.
They’d linger. Argue. Sometimes even make a point I decided I wanted to remember in the morning.
Giving Them a Room
So I gave them a room:
something between a study, a speakeasy, and a holding pen for mental clutter that occasionally surprises you by being useful.
What This Is (and Isn’t)
This isn’t a manifesto or a master plan.
Some of what happens here might sound like:
- philosophy
- rants about tech and systems thinking
- the kind of thing people write when they’ve read too much Kierkegaard and slept too little
But mostly, it’s just me trying to make sense of things the way anyone does:
slowly, sideways, and often out loud.
An Invitation
You won’t find answers here.
But you might find:
- a kind of comfort in the questions
- or at least some company in the confusion
Come in.
The fire’s on, the tea’s perfectly steeped, and the thoughts are restless.
Let’s see where they take us.