The rhythm of difficulty hasn’t broken. Work, weight, repeat. Somewhere in the motion there’s a thin kind of grace; not joy or comfort, just the quiet proof of still being here.
Field Notes
November 2025
October 2025
A picture of me from 2003 by my then partner. I had just moved to the city. No family. No money. No assets. The world at my feet.
Snapped a beautiful gradient lying flat on my back, staring at the sky on Rottnest.
I just uploaded Self Titled (2005), my first internet release 20 years ago this month. Simple yet sincere, a small beginning that still matters to me.
Binge watching Frieren: Beyond Journey's End and rediscovering early 2000s freak folk.
September 2025
I bought a GPD Micro PC 2 and set it up as my daily. It feels like carrying a pocket terminal from another timeline. Some of the time it’s pointed at tilde.town, where I’ve been writing a small blog and wandering through quiet corners. In the background, a new body of art has formed.
July 2025
I felt content this morning, not from anything new, but from no longer resisting the old. Comfortable in my skin, my place in the world. I hope I can hang onto this feeling.
“The closer one comes to the ground, the more one sees that every small thing has its place and purpose.”
— Unknown
Not everything broken needs to be fixed. Some things need to be left, unfollowed, unfed. The system doesn’t collapse when attacked, it withers when ignored. Quiet isn’t weakness, it’s resistance without spectacle. A refusal to be shaped by noise. To offer no data, no reaction, no fuel; just a turning away. A quiet door left ajar for something else to grow.
Lately I’ve been drawn to making small, quiet things. Not projects exactly, more like gestures. I’ve started gathering them into a space I’m calling Ambient Experiments. I don’t know exactly what the space is yet. But I like that it’s quiet and it doesn’t ask for attention. Just offers something briefly, and then steps back.
Torrential rain on canvas. I was sleeping under it, half dreaming, half listening.
Away at Mandalay for a much needed reset. I met Jenny and Gareth, an older couple who instantly took to the boys. They bought them ice cream, offered warm conversation, and felt like people we’d known longer than a day. I even picked up a few things for them from the supermarket. The next morning, they were gone. Caravan park relationships are strange and liminal. Fleeting, lovely connections that vanish as quickly as they arrive.
I suppose that’s what makes them beautiful.
June 2025
Lumi's Light Quest launches today on the App store.
An old sociology essay I wrote in 2012. I think it's still relevant now.
Osipov compares our blind trust in AI to sci-fi techno-priests. A sharp, weirdly accurate read: rosipov.com
I left corporate social media on purpose, not angry, just done. Built a space with no likes, no followers. Now I don’t perform, I just talk to the void. Also, go read Fish.
Shared an apple with a quenda this morning while on yard duty.