Coming soon

Daily, snackable writings to spur changes in thinking.

Building a blueprint for a better brain by tinkering with the code.

PAUSE

The first non-fiction book from Tinkered Thinking. PAUSE is a short book on meditation. Now available on the Tinkered Thinking Bookstore.

The SECOND illustrated book from Tinkered Thinking is now available!

SPIN CHESS

A Chess app from Tinkered Thinking featuring a variant of chess that bridges all skill levels!

REPAUSE

A meditation app is forthcoming. Stay Tuned.

AN OPEN LETTER TO A READER WHO STOPPED AT THE COPYRIGHT PAGE

September 4th, 2026
Hello! I am the author of White Mirror. It's a bummer you didn't finish the book, and perhaps an even bigger bummer to leave a review for a book that you didn't fully read. Given your scruples I can understand why you would write this. It seems like you are trying to warn others of some kind of dishonesty or hidden toxin. 

Regardless, I think there's a few things you might find interesting. Believe it or not, I used to be an art teacher. I was classically trained in figure drawing, figure painting, plein air painting, draftsmanship and sculpture. My two teachers were enormously important to me and they had a profound impact on who I am as a person, artist and writer. After I went through my years of apprenticeship, they asked me to join the school as a teacher, which I was honored to do. I've since worked as a teacher in several capacities but that time teaching kids how to draw, to paint, to look at the world and express it through their new found skills... those memories are incredibly precious to me, and it continues to inform how I look at the world today. 

I learned about Raphael, who was basically like the original Andy Warhol and built and ran the first printing operation with a deliberate distribution channel1. But he wasn't criticized by his peers. (The idea that reproduction cheapens art was itself a much later invention) And I learned about the strangely accurate paintings of Vermeer, who almost certainly used some type of Camera Obscura to basically *trace* a projected image of his painting's subject. (There's a really good documentary about a delightfully unhinged guy who basically recreated the entire theorized process to make a Vermeer painting for himself, and the results were incredible. It's called Tim's Vermeer (2013), I highly recommend it!) And I realized that artists are tool-users. A paintbrush is a tool, a pen is a tool, a chunk of charcoal is a tool.

For my first two books (self-published on the Tinkered Thinking Bookstore) The Lucilius Parables Volume I and Volume II, I did all of the illustrations (about 80) myself by hand. I have the skills and my stories are short and I thought it would be a nice little bit of eye candy for the reader to start the stories with. I have enough stories to put out a third volume and a fourth. The bottleneck is the illustrations. They take a **long** time, hence why I haven't been able to get those volumes out, despite the fact that the stories have been written for a long time. 

After my start as a visual artist and a teacher, my artistic sensibilities eventually landed on writing, and I eventually wrote a few hundred short stories. (All of which can be read on the blog Tinkered Thinking, along with about 1,000 essays on various topics. All of it is exclusively rough draft form, nothing is edited or cleaned up so beware of the all-too-human artifacts that come with such drafts) And to be sure, I used to be quite a luddite. Before I started Tinkered Thinking, I wrote fiction exclusively on an old typewriter (a Smith & Corona from 1932, which I lovingly repaired and maintained). Eventually I had a bit of a break with my nostalgic outlook on things. Gave up writing for a bit and started reading on topics that I'd formerly ignored. I eventually taught myself how to code (pre-AI) and started building products, which I discovered was just another type of artistic medium. As part of a coding exercise I built a blog, and I'd started writing again, so decided on a whim to populate the blog with my writing. I had no intention of actually starting a blog/podcast but it unfurled organically. 

I started thinking a lot about technology in these little essays that I was posting. I didn't really care if anyone read it, I just liked the aesthetics of the little website I'd built (it felt like an art project) and unlike so many bloggers and *writers* I actually really enjoy playing around with words and ideas. I'm not precious about it. It's just fun to watch my thinking manifest right in front of my eyes. To see my thoughts. It's been an incredibly important practice for me. I realized that a computer keyboard isn't that different from a typewriter.2​ (Though there are differences and in some ways I prefer the impracticality of a typewriter — forces you to commit, stay with what you've written. No erasing) And a typewriter isn't that much different from a pen or pencil, and a pen or pencil, or a stylus cut from reeds growing on the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates, used to press cuneiform shapes into clay tablets. They are all related tools, or technologies that grow from one another. 

I started to see everything as tools. The bag that I carry my stuff in is a type of tools. And most of the stuff in the bag — it's just a collection of tools, be it an ipad for drawing, a laptop for coding and writing, or even something as humble as a piece of paper to take some notes on. Even words are tools. I think language itself is the most powerful tool that humans have. (whether we invented language is a totally different conversation which I've written about on my blog quite a few times.) 

And then AI came along. One of the first interesting things was what Stable Diffusion released, which was an image generation model. Being a visual artist myself, I was curious, so I played around with it and had a lot of fun. I even took **my own art** and trained a custom fine-tuned model on my own artwork. I wanted to see if I could get it to create images in the same style that I like to create. I posted the results on twitter with pairs: one handdrawn by me, and one produced from the custom model I'd trained on my art. The results were impressive and not a single person was able to guess all of the pairs correctly. Again, I was having fun, which I think is a very important part of creativity and artistic expression. 

I was lucky enough to get a book deal from Infinite Books based on the strength of my many short stories on my blog. I'd already written many 'white mirror' stories, so it felt very natural to simply continue in that very niche sub-genre of optimistic sci-fi. Infinite Books was an amazing publisher. Not only was I given an enormous amount of creative freedom, but I was paired with a tremendous editor, Dylan O'Sullivan who worked with me one-on-one for over a year to really dial in the language and the stories. The book is as good as it is in large part to his genius, and I am forever grateful. 

When it came to the illustrations, I wanted to do something unique, something a bit different than what anyone had ever done before. Given the subject matter of the stories, I felt it was perfectly appropriate: I wanted to showcase a spectrum of different illustrations. From 100% human made to human and machine made to purely AI. I wanted that mix *on purpose*. Not out of laziness. Not because I didn't want to hire or pay an illustrator (because, uh, the illustrator would have been ME) but because I felt it would best honor the actual stories, which explore this tension and nuance that exists between humans and the tools we use.

For example, you used a computer or a phone to write your review. Even if those tools had not been available to you, and you'd travelled (likely with another set of tools, like a car, or a plane or a train or scooter, or hell, even just with the shoes on your feet!) to stand in front of me and personally utter the words of your review, those words would still be tools necessary to get your point across. My point is simply that you cannot function without all the tools that you've been lucky enough to have at your disposal. 

I find this tribalistic fracture developing between people self-declaring as Anti-AI and Pro-AI quite sad, and honestly a bit boring. Groups of humans can't seem to learn any tricks more interesting than this tribalistic grouping. There were valuable evolutionary reasons for this to arise in our species, but the trick is beginning to give off a smell. But alas, I'm not here to say what should or shouldn't be. I'm more interested in what things *can* be, which is. . .  why I wrote White Mirror. I was tired of the constant dystopian vein in . . . well basically all mediums be they artistic or entertainment. From the terminator movies to the black mirror series, it starts to get a bit dreary. I wanted to give the world something fresh, something that wasn't explicitly slap-you-in-the-face optimistic, but more orthogonal to both camps. I wanted to create some stories that would get readers to consider possibilities they hadn't even occurred to them before. I wanted readers to read just a couple pages that would make them pause and go "huh..." I wanted to invoke some curiosity, some wonder. Unfortunately, you were apparently unable to make it past the copyright page.

The funniest part of your review isn't the fact that you lampooned someone's hard work because you didn't actually read it, it's that you are completely wrong: AI had absolutely nothing to do with the words in the book. That was all me, and later it was the result of a collaborative editing process with Dylan. And this isn't because I don't think AI can help with writing, it's simply because I enjoy the process of working with words far far more than I enjoy the often tedious process of working on an illustration for hours and hours. (Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy picking up a paintbrush or a piece of charcoal and giving a blank page a run for its money, but when it's compared with writing, I have a much much higher stamina for writing, simply because I enjoy it more.) But, even if we put all that aside, there's one final fact that you were unable to suss out. As impressive as the AI models are these days, their abilities don't even come close to what I put in that book. 







PAUSE

August 26th, 2026
The first non-fiction book from Tinkered Thinking is now available. . .

PAUSE is a short book on meditation. Over the years I've written around forty essays on meditation while I racked up years of practice. A few years ago, I decided to make a meditation app based on my experience. 


I sampled all of the meditation apps and after a few years of figuring it out, I realized that all the apps I'd tried glossed over or completely failed to address some very basic and fundamental aspects of what getting started with meditation actually entails. I'm talking about very simple stuff, like... why do meditators sit in that unusual way? No one actually ever told me, it just occurred to me after doing it thousands of times: it's much easier to breathe in this position. Or, just the mechanics of habit. How to start a habit. What to expect. When does it get easier? How does routine fit in to habit? How does habit fit into routine? 


So I set about building a meditation app. And it's basically finished. I just have to polish the audio files. However, while I was in the process of converting forty essays to a month of daily lessons, an idea occurred to me. I thought: how nice would it be to have a slim little book that could be a stand alone text on meditation? Or it could be a companion to the app. Well, why not I thought. But at the time I was busy, and I didn't exactly have the time to reread 40 essays and somehow crunch that through my mind and have a cohesive book come out the other side. I was supposed to be busy finishing a meditation app, on top of about a million other things.


It was time for an experiment. And before you read on, I should be very clear about how tight I was about the guidelines on this experiment. I wanted every sentence in the book to be written by me. So what did I do? I gave AI the entirety of my forty essays. At first I did this just to get an opinion. Hey, is there enough here to create 30 daily lesson scripts from? Hey, could this be a . . . book? The answer to both of those questions was: yes, definitely. But remember, I didn't want AI to write the book or the lessons scripts for me. I wanted it to be my ideas, my phrasing, my language. I told all this to the AI. See, unlike the insecure squawkers who will go bug-eyed over such a proposition1​I don't have the slightest shade of worry about actually writing a book. But I'd be stupid to turn down a little help when it comes to organizing my own thoughts. And plus, I was curious. In some sense it was a test. I am constantly testing AI, pushing it to its limits to see what it can do well, and where that line starts to degrade. We discussed the format of the book, the length, the thematic parts, how to filter concepts and essays into each thematic part, and how the entire arc of the book should progress. I wanted thirty chapters so that a person could read one short chapter per day and then do a session of meditation. I also wrote the introduction on a whim to set the pace of the book. Then after all of that discussion and brainstorming and seeding it with all of my original writing, I told it to take it away.


Well the damn thing did a great job. I was very explicit: Use my sentences. Do not do any original writing of your own. You may only make small grammatical changes to hook ideas and original phrases together. I printed the whole thing off, and as per my instructions, it gave me the source for everything in it. Which essay this paragraph came from, which app lesson that paragraph was derived from. I traced a few of them back to their original source and I was shocked at how well it accomplished the task. I printed the whole thing out and read it. It was good, it was really good. You have to realize that I was a bit skeptical and flustered. I noticed one paragraph that had a suspicious number of em-dashes. I went back to the AI model and criticized it. Em-dashes are a sign of AI writing, so clearly this was a mistake. Well the damn thing told me it was quoted verbatim from one of the essays and it had used the exact number of em-dashes that I had originally used — clearly, I am fond of the em-dash. I was humbled, but in a way that felt reassuring. 


Most importantly the book reads exactly as I'd write it. The experience was a bit bizarre because I also had an analysis done to find out exactly how much of the text was not explicitly quoted from original sources, and the number was about 2%. Mindboggling that it took such little "extra" writing simply to string together so many ideas over such a length. So over the course of about 158 pages, less than 3 were "written" by AI, and those 3 are cut up into tiny pieces and sprinkled across the 158 pages. The bizarre / eerie part isn't the fact that AI stitched together everything I wrote — No. It's that such a coherent BOOK was hiding in a few dozen essays. 


Now, another thing that's worth noting is that AI also flagged holes in the manuscript that required fresh writing. I ended up doing about three chapters worth of that. One chapter it had flagged as missing content from a thematic standpoint, and a few paragraphs throughout the rest of the book. And then I naturally ended up adding an epilogue of sorts and a postscript. 


I could not be happier with how this book turned out. It started off as an experiment and a "oh that would be cool to have" and I dare say, of the three books now available on the website — despite the other two being fiction — it's probably the best book so far. I'm soft launching it ahead of the app simply because it's ready. 


If you have any interest in meditation, I think you'll love it.







LATTICE & EDDIES

August 24th, 2026
If you look closely1 you may notice something different about Tinkered Thinking. I'll give you exactly one paragraph to see if you can spot it.

Splicing a vein from the last post: the details can really make something come alive. Aesthetics are often all about the details, and they affect everyone — even those who say they have no sense of design or style at all. A handwritten postcard is a great example. Anyone can instantly pick it out in a stack of mail they thumb through. And it's because the details leap out from the pile of mass produced, perfect-print font stamped into all the other envelopes and advertisements. A simple example, but an obvious one. A subtler one might be when the first T-shirt company decided to sell shirts without that annoying tag in the collar. They decided to print the wash instructions directly onto the inside of the shirt. Brilliant, and simple, but subtle. Not something you see. It's something you feel. Such details are like easter eggs in a video game. It's a subtle nod between the creator who came up with it, and the person who eventually experiences it. There's that handshake across time and space, a nod. Nice.

By now, you might notice2 that in the bottom left hand corner of your screen, there's a subtle pattern tracing itself out. It's a lattice of sorts, composed of triangles that eddy. If you're curious about where the pattern came from, check out the Tinkered Thinking Bookstore. The growing pattern is there too.

There's some symbolism behind it, which I'll get to in a moment, but before that I think it's worth saying that nothing on the internet should be ugly anymore. If you have even an iota of experience when it comes to coding, you know that AI has taken this field by storm, and an apt programmer can leverage it to enormous benefit these days. This little growing pattern, for example, is something I've wanted to do for years. But, the ROI on it is horrible. It would have taken me a LONG time to get this working if I'd coded it by hand. And then, you know.. what exactly is the point of all that effort? Of course I'd like to do it, and like so many things, if I was locked in a room and given no other option, I'd not only do it, I'd really enjoy it. Unfortunately there's a lot of things that fall into that category, and then there's a whole other category of things I should do that have much higher ROI. So, for a long time it just remained a quaint idea. And then AI came along and got good enough so I could get this up and running in no time at all. (took some time to polish it and get it just to my liking, but altogether the time I spend on it was a tiny fraction of what it would have taken had I done it by hand.) Most won't care, and some might even find it annoying, which is fine. But for those who have enjoyed Tinkered Thinking, I like to think you might smile and chuckle for a brief moment. Nice.

So what does the lattice mean? It's fair to say that in the beginning it didn't really mean anything. I like triangles, and then a lot of reasoning about it followed after. For example, a circle is technically a polygon with infinite sides of equal length. If you reverse the direction of that definition, then a triangle is the lowest dimensional representation of a circle. When I was writing the first couple hundred essays, my thinking really started to hone in on this notion of vicious and virtuous cycles — feedback loops that self-amplify. Bad habits become vicious cycles3 and good habits can become virtuous cycles. So then the triangles grew into a trio of vectors, swirling around. Then the triangle of vectors became nested, implying a  spiral. I think of vicious cycles as downward spirals and virtuous cycles as upward spirals. It feels fairly intuitive... each turn of a spiral is an identical version of the previous turn, just intensified, zoomed out. And triangles naturally have a fractal nature when stacked together. This recursive, fractal, spiralling concept felt apt for many of the concepts I was weaving together. And so when it came time to design the cover of my first book, it was as though this design was already in my head — conceptually. Translating it to a design didn't really require any kind of thought at all. And their growth — now properly animated in the way I've always imagined — is properly reminiscent of the way that neurons grow and search and connect. All of it together made sense to me, symbolically. Neurons growing like tiny streams of water searching downhill, finding little pockets and curving round into an eddy. Like the topics of Tinkered Thinking: an aimless wandering curiosity, constantly wrapping around this or that thought or observation or insight, circling it for a few hundred or thousand words, and then branching off again in search of some new little obsession. 

It's good that I've now essentially automated this design task, because, tbh, it was tedious to do it all by hand, and it is just one of a dozen tedious reasons why The Lucilius Parables Vol III is not out4​. There's a few more things I'd like to automate, but all of it is in service of the core purpose of Tinkered Thinking: to just give me the space to write and play with words.







THE LITTLE THINGS

August 19th, 2026
They say it's the little things in life: the moment when your mind clears and you notice the way sunlight dances on a leaf as it wavers in the morning breeze, the way a child quietly walks up to you with arms spread out, wanting a hug, the way the milk rises back up to the surface in your coffee, spinning in eddies.

It's the little things in life that make it worth living.

The wisdom behind the quaint statement is that it has a dark side. The little things can make life miserable. The pet peeves a partner has, the long commute, the sink always filled with dirty dishes, the empty fridge after a long day, the unmade bed, the bad sleep, the annoying coworker. They're endless, and while none of them on their own are all that impactful or even worth thinking about, the aggregated effect can be more than demoralizing: it can make for a bad life. Death by a thousand papercuts is the dark side of a coin shared by: it's the little things. . .

There's certainly something to be said for cultivating and practicing a muscle of equanimity that can generate serenity, no matter the situation or annoying facet of reality. Churchill had a great quote to this effect and it shines a light on the connection between the endless papercuts of life and our reaction to them:

A person is about as big as the things that make them angry.

All truisms gloss over some variety of nuance, no matter how perfect they might ring. Consider the source of things. If a total stranger does something annoying, like some buffoon on the road who can't seem to drive perfectly — it's an absolute waste of time and energy to give such an occurrence any thought.1 If you do, you're automatically living a miserable life: Do you pay attention to the silver linings in life? Or are you too focused on the clouds to notice?

But, if the source is something you care about, this is where the nuance comes in — this is where things get a little murky. If a beloved and much adored partner is perpetually annoyed with something you genuinely don't think is important at all. Well, to ignore it with a sense of serenity is to invite an aggravated elevation of the issue. And what does it mean to live a life that is bound to the pathways dictated by someone else's pet peeves? Well, love is compromise, right?

Love is treated as a foundation. Something to rely on, but after my own experience and a lot of observation, I think this might be a very big mistake. In my experience, love is quite fragile. I think it's no mistake that we give flowers as an expression of love: flowers are fragile, they require a very specific environment to flourish and look their best, otherwise they wilt and die, or they never even sprout. If the environment that gives rise to love isn't the constant priority, then the love will suffer. It's like the difference explored with the perennial question: Do you live to work or do you work to live? Everyone wants it to be the latter. That's what it should be. But the truth is most people live lives that are completely devoted to their job, either out of necessity and desperation, a lack of options, a lack of creativity, or pressure from obligations. In many families, the family itself becomes the pressure that creates an intense focus away from the family, and then the environment for that "love" that created the family in the first place. . . starts to degrade. 

A gardener pays attention to tiny details — the little things. The gardener gets dirty, knowing there's a specific kind of mess2 that gives rise to something beautiful: The pH of the soil, the fertilizer, the amount of sun that hits the garden, the amount of water. All of it is a delicate balance of small variables that together either give rise to a beautiful bloom, or...not. Neglecting one of them can have a huge impact. Like never really being present and listening when that increasingly frustrated family member speaks. Likewise, concentrating on the wrong details can be just as disastrous: drenching everything in pesticides so there are no bugs, failing to realize that some bugs aren't just beneficial, they are necessary.3 Everything adds up over time. For better or worse. Everything compounds. For better or worse. The gardener with those beautiful blooms knows: it's not just all about the little things, it's about giving time and attention to the little things that actually make a difference. The real question is whether that difference adds up to a beautiful life or, one that makes the beauty too difficult to see.







TIME ON PROJECT

August 11th, 2026
Time dilates in strange ways. I once wrote this: if you want to slow down time, concentrate on the moment. If you want to speed up time, concentrate on the task

The only real problem with this, is if your task is part of a big project, and you stop that task and neglect the project, time still moves swiftly. 

Without a constant source of input, projects stagnate, dead in the water. Unless it's hit some sort of escape velocity, like a business project making money with a flywheel structure, it can feel like it's still working. But further improvements? All stagnate. 

I have several projects that are multi-year, and it always shocks me when the carousel finally turns to reveal a slot of time to work on one of those projects and I ask: when was the last time I worked on this? Where was I in the process? The answer is always quickly followed by a: holy shit, how have I neglected this for so long.

Relationships can be like this too. Only that which gets constant love and nurturing grows. All else atrophies, and eventually, dies. You can see this in personal projects, relationships, even governments and civilizations. Unfortunately there is no golden plateau to hit where things magically coast, as if on golden rails that extend into the future, piercing eternity with stability. 

It's just like riding a bicycle! Is genuinely a subversive concept. People never seem to lose the ability to ride a bicycle despite not riding for years, because in the meantime, everyone is practicing the art of balancing their body as they move and walk. But rarely, if ever, do such elemental tasks that we 'practice' everyday transfer to projects and skills that we neglect for weeks and months and years. 

When I look back at Tinkered Thinking as a project, I marvel: how was I able to sustain that output? A thousand essays and a couple hundred short stories in just a few short years. Seems insane. It might seem like a haughty thing to point out, but in those short few years, I wrote more than most people do in a lifetime. That doesn't seem possible, and yet, it was just an artifact of a very simple rule: write and post something everyday. 

Luckily I was quite shameless about it because I didn't really give a shit if anyone read what I was writing. And beyond that, I didn't really think anyone would read anything I wrote. Why would they? And, honestly, why would I care?1​ 

Projects are like alternate dimensions. They wait for you, and when you step through that portal and get into the flow, time drains from both realities. But when you return to life, time still drains, but the project stands still. 

And I'm not really sure what it takes to stick the two part landing required: commitment and discipline.2​I just decided one day to post everyday because no other cadence seemed to make much sense. It's like breathing. You can't do all your breathing on Mondays and Thursdays and be set for the rest of the week. Everything atrophies way too fast. Time on project needs to have a constant rhythm, otherwise the organs of creation rot. 

In some sense I'm writing this as a reminder to myself: I already know all of this, but I'm marring this blank page to make sure my mind confronts it. You know this! But just to make sure it stings and leaves a mark: read it! Read what you just wrote! Time on project. Either you love it and nurture it, or it dies. If you're not growing, you're digging a grave. Reminds me of a quote from one of my favorite movies:

"Get busy living, or get busy dying."3