09.8.25
I suppose that’s what all this is down in it’s bones. I simply don’t believe the internet is dead. I think it’s badly ill, and potentially terminal. I think it’s mired in sick that’s all too communicable to it’s users, but I don’t think it’s dead yet. Not with more of those aforementioned users futzing around online than ever before.
The trouble, I think (not uniquely), is where the futzing is going on. Better thinkers than I have already laid out the case against big platform social media. Every artist and their lover has decried hostile all-consuming presence of generative ai. You know the argument.
I have high hopes for the indieweb movement, so here’s me throwing my hat in the ring. If all I manage to do is make someone feel just envious enough to give it a try, I’ll have succeeded.
But here is what I would like most to happen:
I want to use the space. I want to fill it up with dungeons and drawings and stories of my own making. I want it to become a little public archive of my mind, a space to share my ideas and observations and pictures of my cats.
I want it to be a little corner of the internet that it undeniably, unmistakably alive.