Today, in the annals of spam blog comments, on a post about whole-wheat bread:
"This product works quite well. It romantically improves my golf by a lot.”
Which brings to mind the famous Johnny Carson (IIRC) exchange about “keeping his putter straight”.
Towards wygiwym is a valuable reminder of why wysiwyg was always a trap for the unwary. Hard to believe that this still needs saying in 2026. Some of us have been railing against people who ought to know better tinkering with layout since the dawn of time, but there it is.
Another errand-run enlivened by a coffee in service of coffeeneuring.
The twenty-fourth episode of Wonders of Web Weaving is out:
In Episode 24, I chat with Alex, the author of alexsirac.com about, among other things, collective intelligence in public commons, what the IndieWeb can learn from Wikipedia, community in comments, and more.
I hope you enjoy the episode!
Wonders of Web Weaving also has an RSS feed you can use to follow along from wherever you get your podcasts.
After writing autumn (essence, of) today, I worked on another zine: flow (or, thinking through).
When writing flow (or, thinking through) I started with no particular topic in mind other than a vague interest in exploring the concept of flow. To get started, I consulted my notes, bringing in and expanding upon ideas I have written about, and then I let myself explore whatever flowed in the moment.
You can download the zine as a PDF, and follow these instructions to fold the zine. Please enjoy!
Today I made a new zine: autumn (essence, of).
This is my first time including imagery in a zine. The front and back covers feature two photos I have taken outdoors recently: a frosty flower and frosty leaves on a bed of grass.
You can download the zine as a PDF, and follow these instructions to fold the zine. Please enjoy!
A flat sky
Field of fog
Hidden hills
Echoes of snowfall —
Not yet.
Spectra of coherence — ground, sky; all presents. // Deconstruct.
Where do I find the word that embodies a step?
— elevation, propulsion, placing; in cycles, forward, forward.
A mirror of irreducibility.
How can a word reflect my cold nose, dripping with winter air,
Breathing in fast, deeply.
Stories, of moments —
Collapsed colour, stark senses, every expression:
Poem, no contours; possible?
(But in contours definition exists.)
Eat This Newsletter 318: Hindsight
Looking back, at gourds and pumpkins as anomalies, at invented gastronationalism, at a rice bowl, at the ur-parents of citrus, and at the potato as social signifier.
https://buttondown.com/jeremycherfas/archive/etn-318-hindsight/
James, Joel, and I had a discussion about favorite foods, which devolved, as it often does among folks who like writing, into an idea for a ‘blogging challenge.’ If you’re unfamiliar with what s...
