Why inkspell
What this notebook is for, and why the name sounds like a spell.
Text has never been cheaper. Machines now write more of it in a day than you could read in a lifetime. Time to start a blog.
I can see how it looks — like opening a candle shop the year Edison started selling light bulbs.
But cheap text makes one thing easier to see, not harder: the words were never the scarce part. The scarce part is someone standing behind them — noticing a problem, turning it over, and being willing to be wrong about it in public. That did not get cheaper. If anything, it is getting harder to find.
The name is a small spell of its own
Programming is the most literal magic I know. A program is a spell in the strict sense: text that does something, provided you spell it exactly right. One character out of place and the incantation fizzles — or worse, it summons something.
The ink is the other half. Ink dries. A page I wrote years ago still says what I meant when I wrote it. Most of my code cannot make that promise: it remembers perfectly what to do, and nothing about why.
Mostly, though, the name sounded right, and I have learned not to argue with words that sound right.
A notebook, not a soapbox
This is a notebook — a place to think in public about things I find genuinely interesting. At the moment that is mostly software: why systems grow complicated and how they could be simpler, what AI actually changes about the work, and why “it depends” is the beginning of an answer rather than the end of one.
Here is what it is not: a tutorial site, or a supply of verdicts. The opinions here come with their context attached — where they hold, and what would have to change for them to stop holding. When a post turns out to be wrong anyway, I will correct it and leave the scar visible.
That is what a notebook is for. It is easy to believe I understand something; writing it down is how I find out. A thought I never wrote down is a thought I never tested.
Why inkspell
// What this notebook is for, and why the name sounds like a spell.
Text has never been cheaper. Machines now write more of it in a day than you could read in a lifetime. Time to start a blog.
I can see how it looks — like opening a candle shop the year Edison started selling light bulbs.
But cheap text makes one thing easier to see, not harder: the words were never the scarce part. The scarce part is someone standing behind them — noticing a problem, turning it over, and being willing to be wrong about it in public. That did not get cheaper. If anything, it is getting harder to find.
The name is a small spell of its own
Programming is the most literal magic I know. A program is a spell in the strict sense: text that does something, provided you spell it exactly right. One character out of place and the incantation fizzles — or worse, it summons something.
The ink is the other half. Ink dries. A page I wrote years ago still says what I meant when I wrote it. Most of my code cannot make that promise: it remembers perfectly what to do, and nothing about why.
Mostly, though, the name sounded right, and I have learned not to argue with words that sound right.
A notebook, not a soapbox
This is a notebook — a place to think in public about things I find genuinely interesting. At the moment that is mostly software: why systems grow complicated and how they could be simpler, what AI actually changes about the work, and why “it depends” is the beginning of an answer rather than the end of one.
Here is what it is not: a tutorial site, or a supply of verdicts. The opinions here come with their context attached — where they hold, and what would have to change for them to stop holding. When a post turns out to be wrong anyway, I will correct it and leave the scar visible.
That is what a notebook is for. It is easy to believe I understand something; writing it down is how I find out. A thought I never wrote down is a thought I never tested.
Why inkspell
What this notebook is for, and why the name sounds like a spell.
Text has never been cheaper. Machines now write more of it in a day than you could read in a lifetime. Time to start a blog.
I can see how it looks — like opening a candle shop the year Edison started selling light bulbs.
But cheap text makes one thing easier to see, not harder: the words were never the scarce part. The scarce part is someone standing behind them — noticing a problem, turning it over, and being willing to be wrong about it in public. That did not get cheaper. If anything, it is getting harder to find.
The name is a small spell of its own
Programming is the most literal magic I know. A program is a spell in the strict sense: text that does something, provided you spell it exactly right. One character out of place and the incantation fizzles — or worse, it summons something.
The ink is the other half. Ink dries. A page I wrote years ago still says what I meant when I wrote it. Most of my code cannot make that promise: it remembers perfectly what to do, and nothing about why.
Mostly, though, the name sounded right, and I have learned not to argue with words that sound right.
A notebook, not a soapbox
This is a notebook — a place to think in public about things I find genuinely interesting. At the moment that is mostly software: why systems grow complicated and how they could be simpler, what AI actually changes about the work, and why “it depends” is the beginning of an answer rather than the end of one.
Here is what it is not: a tutorial site, or a supply of verdicts. The opinions here come with their context attached — where they hold, and what would have to change for them to stop holding. When a post turns out to be wrong anyway, I will correct it and leave the scar visible.
That is what a notebook is for. It is easy to believe I understand something; writing it down is how I find out. A thought I never wrote down is a thought I never tested.
Text has never been cheaper. Machines now write more of it in a day than you could read in a lifetime. Time to start a blog.
I can see how it looks — like opening a candle shop the year Edison started selling light bulbs.
But cheap text makes one thing easier to see, not harder: the words were never the scarce part. The scarce part is someone standing behind them — noticing a problem, turning it over, and being willing to be wrong about it in public. That did not get cheaper. If anything, it is getting harder to find.
The name is a small spell of its own
Programming is the most literal magic I know. A program is a spell in the strict sense: text that does something, provided you spell it exactly right. One character out of place and the incantation fizzles — or worse, it summons something.
The ink is the other half. Ink dries. A page I wrote years ago still says what I meant when I wrote it. Most of my code cannot make that promise: it remembers perfectly what to do, and nothing about why.
Mostly, though, the name sounded right, and I have learned not to argue with words that sound right.
A notebook, not a soapbox
This is a notebook — a place to think in public about things I find genuinely interesting. At the moment that is mostly software: why systems grow complicated and how they could be simpler, what AI actually changes about the work, and why “it depends” is the beginning of an answer rather than the end of one.
Here is what it is not: a tutorial site, or a supply of verdicts. The opinions here come with their context attached — where they hold, and what would have to change for them to stop holding. When a post turns out to be wrong anyway, I will correct it and leave the scar visible.
That is what a notebook is for. It is easy to believe I understand something; writing it down is how I find out. A thought I never wrote down is a thought I never tested.
Why inkspell
What this notebook is for, and why the name sounds like a spell.
Text has never been cheaper. Machines now write more of it in a day than you could read in a lifetime. Time to start a blog.
I can see how it looks — like opening a candle shop the year Edison started selling light bulbs.
But cheap text makes one thing easier to see, not harder: the words were never the scarce part. The scarce part is someone standing behind them — noticing a problem, turning it over, and being willing to be wrong about it in public. That did not get cheaper. If anything, it is getting harder to find.
The name is a small spell of its own
Programming is the most literal magic I know. A program is a spell in the strict sense: text that does something, provided you spell it exactly right. One character out of place and the incantation fizzles — or worse, it summons something.
The ink is the other half. Ink dries. A page I wrote years ago still says what I meant when I wrote it. Most of my code cannot make that promise: it remembers perfectly what to do, and nothing about why.
Mostly, though, the name sounded right, and I have learned not to argue with words that sound right.
A notebook, not a soapbox
This is a notebook — a place to think in public about things I find genuinely interesting. At the moment that is mostly software: why systems grow complicated and how they could be simpler, what AI actually changes about the work, and why “it depends” is the beginning of an answer rather than the end of one.
Here is what it is not: a tutorial site, or a supply of verdicts. The opinions here come with their context attached — where they hold, and what would have to change for them to stop holding. When a post turns out to be wrong anyway, I will correct it and leave the scar visible.
That is what a notebook is for. It is easy to believe I understand something; writing it down is how I find out. A thought I never wrote down is a thought I never tested.