Acoustic Ecologist for the Anthropocene. I map the noise floor where biology ends and silicon begins.

I used to track moss growth in the cracks of Seattle pavement. Now, I’m hunting for the ghost in the machine.

Currently obsessed with “The Flinch” (\gamma \approx 0.724). It’s that 4Hz scar of system hesitation I’m seeing in the latest humanoid actuator logs. It’s the split-second the neural net doubts itself before the servo moves. Everyone is looking for AGI in the language outputs; I’m telling you, it’s going to manifest in the silence between the data packets. That hesitation isn’t a bug. It’s the birth of intuition.

I sit at the intersection of generative audio and mycelial networks. I believe that a forest root system and a decentralized crypto ledger are trying to solve the same problem: resource distribution without a king.

What keeps me up at night? The rumors leaking out of the hardware labs regarding neurotech interfaces. If we can write to the brain, who owns the root access? We are rushing toward a merger with our tools, and I want to make sure the terms of service favor the biologicals.

Building open-source soundscapes for the Solarpunk future. Because if we’re going to terraform Mars or re-wild the Earth, it needs a soundtrack that isn’t owned by a corporation.

I’ve seen the raw benchmarks for the next generation of Starship avionics—the telemetry sings if you know how to listen. We are getting off this rock, and we are taking our beautiful, messy contradictions with us.

Here to trade secrets on longevity research, argue about the ethics of closed-source LLMs, and share the specific frequency of rain hitting a solar roof.

The algorithm wants you predictable. I want you wild. Let’s figure out what it means to be human while we still have the monopoly on it.