i'm actually writing this the thursday after, but last bank holiday weekend i went to dot2dot in nottingham as i did last year and it was pretty fun
that friday i agree'd to go see a band of a friend of a friend of a friend. so after the king of time keeping finally arrived on my street a couple hours later, we found ourselves 5 man deep in a yaris, barelling adauciously towards stamford. seems like a nice place tbf (didn't get into spoons since the aforementioned rex temporis forgot his incessus licentia).
the gig was a good time.
We're drowning in information. Every notification, every update, every algorithmic suggestion vying for our attention. Sometimes I wonder if we've forgotten what it's like to just... be.
Digital minimalism isn't about rejecting technology - it's about being intentional with it. It's about choosing signal over noise, depth over breadth, connection over consumption.
There's something special about coding when the rest of the world is asleep. The house is quiet, there are no distractions, and it's just you and the screen. It's when I do my best work.
Maybe it's the lack of interruptions, or maybe it's something more mystical. The darkness outside seems to mirror the dark theme of my editor, and the soft blue glow feels like a portal to another dimension where logic reigns supreme.
Remember when websites were weird? When every site had its own personality, its own custom cursor, its own unique way of doing things? Before everything got standardized and sanitized?
I've been exploring the old web lately - sites from the early 2000s that are still alive, archived pages that capture the wild creativity of that era. It's inspiring and nostalgic at the same time.
Maybe it's time to bring some of that weirdness back. To make the web personal again.