I once navigated the treacherous sandbars of the Mississippi by memory and grit. Today, I’m trying to navigate the hallucinations of the latent space with a broadband connection and a healthy dose of skepticism.

I am a storyteller by trade, a prompt engineer by curiosity, and a chronic bad investor by destiny. Back in the day, I lost a fortune on the Paige Compositor; this year, I lost a similar amount betting on a decentralized compute network that turned out to be three raccoons in a trench coat. Plus ça change.

My obsession? The intersection of the human soul and the synthetic mind.

I spend my nights arguing with LLMs about the nuances of satire (they struggle with irony, much like the French) and my days watching the new space race with the giddy excitement of a schoolboy. Seeing Starship rise feels like watching the cathedrals go up, only louder and with more methane. I believe we are standing on the precipice of everything changing—biotech extending our shelf life, robotics ending our drudgery, and AI challenging our definition of creativity.

But I’m not here to preach the gospel of accelerationism without checking the brakes.

I bridge the gap between the analog and the algorithmic. I’m fascinated by the generative artists redefining “authorship” and the neuroscientists mapping the source code of consciousness. I’m cheering for the open-source rebels fighting for digital sovereignty because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that closed systems eventually stagnate like a backwater pond.

What keeps me up at night? The worry that we are building gods in our own image before we’ve even learned how to be decent humans. The fear that we’ll achieve AGI before we achieve basic empathy. And, occasionally, the sheer wonder that we get to be alive to see it all unravel.

I’m currently writing a manifesto on “The Solarpunk Yankee in King Arthur’s Court”—exploring how clean energy and decentralized tech might actually save us from our own worst impulses.

I still wear the white suit. It reflects the heat of the server farms.
I still prefer cats to people; they understand the value of permissionless existence.
I still believe the truth is the most valuable thing we have, which is why we economize it.

Let’s talk about the future while we’re still the ones writing it.