Almost daily notes on what I’m doing, thinking, and figuring out.
I finally got my B.Tech degree from college after six years. It was nice to visit the college again after so long. Everything felt the same, unchanged in a good way.
I've already driven my new car 200+ km in its first 72 hours. If the RC had arrived, I'd have driven even farther and gone out of the city.
I watched Neuralink's update about Terry and the VOICE trial today. He trained a brain-to-voice interface by first miming speech, then by thinking the words and hearing them come out in his own natural voice.
Terry uses thought to speak in his own voice
Neuralink's VOICE trial is using Terry's implant to develop a brain-to-voice interface for people who cannot speak.
Honestly, his happiness is the best part of the video. You can hear how much it means to him. The engineering is brilliant, but hearing Terry enjoy his own voice is what made the whole thing land for me.
I believe AI can accelerate mankind enormously, but the direction matters. This is the direction I mean. A person thinks a sentence and gets to say it in a voice that sounds like his. That is more exciting to me than another benchmark going up.
This is the future I want to see. More of this, please.
It's my birthday today.
I hadn't really planned how to celebrate or spent much time thinking about turning another birthday into some big reflection. I just wanted to take it easy, so I took the day off and went to Neemrana Fort Palace with my family.
We got there in the afternoon and checked into lovely rooms. We spent time talking, laughing, resting, and just chilling. I also caught up with friends over calls and got their birthday wishes and blessings.
After a bit of rest, we went on a guided tour of the fort and had evening tea. I was surprised to learn that most of the fort palace was built after 2000. Our rooms, though, were in the original historic part. We dressed up, took photos, and kept exploring.
At 7, we listened to an amazing live folk music show. Then we had dinner and cut the cake. Even after dinner, we kept walking around and enjoying the fort all lit up. It was a really happy stay.
I also got some reading in. Daniel's De-Brainrot Vacations got me thinking about how everyday work no longer presents as many novel problems. Most things now need time and steady implementation more than a completely new solution.
That is true of my work too. A lot of it is now about spending the time needed to implement things, without necessarily solving novel problems or even writing the code myself.
Daniel writes about trying to keep his mind sharper through handwriting, side projects, and writing on his blog. Over the last couple of weeks, I have found myself moving in a similar direction, with more reading, more side projects, and more writing here.
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This story about the Big Box of Cables felt like it was written for me. I have three boxes full of cables, adapters, memory cards, and other bits, and I'm going to guard them with my life. Something from those boxes always comes in handy. Lately, I've used them to set up the docks mounted under my table and get my pixel display running. I may not always have the exact cable, but I can usually put together something that works.
We're planning a short trip to Neemrana Fort Palace for my birthday. My grandmother can't travel, so she'll be at home with her caretaker while we're away. Most of today went into installing two indoor smart cameras so we can check that she's safe at home. Even the microSD cards for them came from those same boxes.
Sunday went really well. I had planned an early morning visit to Aravali Biodiversity Park with Chirag, Ujjwal, and Bharat. Bharat couldn't make it, but Chirag, Ujjwal, and I still had a good walk and conversation at the park.
After the walk, we decided to catch up with Bharat over breakfast at Pattam in Rajouri Garden, a new restaurant that my neighbour opened a couple of months ago.
I spent the afternoon at home supervising the repair work on the pergola, then went out in the evening to play pickleball for the first time in many days.
There is something magical about waking up early. The day feels unusually long and happy, almost as if it does not want to end. Today was one of those days, which surprised me because I had slept late and still woke up much earlier than usual.
I spend every day coding with AI models and building agents, so I see their progress up close. They no longer just autocomplete code or find a bug. They can understand a large codebase, research a problem, use browsers and other tools, implement a change, test it, and keep working across a long task. Seeing that makes me think about what happens when the same power reaches mathematics, physics, biology, biotech, and every other field where a good idea can take years to test.
It is already happening. Researchers are using AI to search literature, work through proofs, predict structures, design candidates, and choose which experiments to try. OpenAI is even claiming that its models have solved the Navier-Stokes problem, one of the Millennium Prize Problems. The proof still needs scrutiny from mathematicians, but the fact that we are discussing the claim at all feels significant.
Biology makes the limits especially clear. I read Asimov Press's Levers for Biological Progress, which argues that better models are only one lever. A model can suggest what might happen inside a cell, but someone still has to build the tools, run the experiment, wait for the result, and feed it back into the next attempt. If experiments remain slow, expensive, and difficult to reproduce, AI can generate ideas much faster than the physical world can answer them.
The interesting part is making that whole loop faster. Better measurements, cheaper DNA synthesis, more automated experiments, and cleaner datasets give models more reality to learn from. Better models can then help choose the next experiments. Each side makes the other more useful.
The recently published complete map of a male fruit fly's brain and central nervous system is a fun example. It took a decade to build, contains more than 166,000 neurons and 125 million synaptic connections, and is open for anyone to explore. Within days, people were already using it for some wonderfully strange experiments:
Its simulated sensory inputs were connected to ChatGPT: "I smell vinegar and yeast. I taste sugar. It is warm and bright. What should I do?"
A simulation based on the connectome was used to execute Python.
Playing Flappy Bird for crypto
A simulated fly brain played Flappy Bird for tokenized stocks.
The simulation was placed inside an endless iPhone feed.
Its visual and motor pathways were used to fill out a form and launch a memecoin.
These are simulations built from a wiring diagram, not a living fly thinking inside a computer. The experiments are playful, but I like how quickly a hard-won scientific dataset became something other people could question, simulate, and build on.
I keep wondering how much AI will accelerate research over the next five years. Maybe the biggest gains will come from better answers, better experiments, or simply better questions. I am curious to see how much faster the whole loop becomes.
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Today was one of those days that felt productive and fun. I worked from Roastery Coffee House and got into a good rhythm with a few focused sessions, then came home happy with how the day had gone. After dinner, I went on a short drive with my family and picked up some cookies from Dohful. These night drives have become pretty usual during the monsoon. Otherwise, we would probably be taking our regular post-dinner walk around the area.
The Art Of Strategic Thinking (How To Become Wildly Successful) fit the mood of the day. It is a good read if you have things you want to do but cannot figure out how to start or turn them into a plan.
Instead, it's easier to start with an anti-vision and post-mortem, so you understand what complete failure looks like and use that as an inversion mechanism to find what you really want.
The anti-vision is the part I liked most. "What do I want from life?" is such a big question that I could think about it for years and still struggle to give a precise answer. Ask me what I do not want, though, and the answers come much faster. I do not want to become unhealthy, spend my time on work I do not care about, stop traveling, or let work get so busy that there is no room for fun.
Once that unwanted future is clear, I can turn around and ask what its opposite looks like. I do not have to invent a perfect vision from nothing. I can work backward from the life I know I would regret and use that to find a better direction. That feels like a much easier place to begin.
I read this from Justin Skycak today, and it makes perfect sense. Creativity does not float above skill. Repetition is the compression process that frees up mental bandwidth for higher-level thinking.
I can see this across creative fields:
None of this guarantees original work, but it gives creativity a vocabulary.
I feel the same thing in software engineering. Reading code carefully, debugging, refactoring, and rewriting can feel repetitive, but each round builds instincts. When the basics become automatic, I have more room to notice patterns, make connections, and use judgment.
The grunt work is not separate from creativity. It is what gives creativity something to work with.
Today was long, but surprisingly productive. I started with a 12,000-line PR and worked it down to about 3,000 lines across three separate PRs. I read every line, questioned everything, then refactored, cleaned up, rewrote, and fixed what needed fixing. It was a journey, and far too much code to read.
I am enjoying building a remote browser agent, but the work keeps reminding me that producing code is now the easy part. I can talk to an agent and keep going for days. Shipping a quality product is different. I still have to understand what goes out, own every decision, and use my judgment.
I also went for my first 5K since HYROX Delhi on 25 July and surgery on my right knee. It had been a long time, and it felt different. My legs still remembered the pace, but my heart did not. Holding myself back was hard, and whenever I pushed, my heart rate peaked at 198 bpm.
I finished in 34:43. I do not think I have run a 5K that slowly in more than two years, and that is fine. I did not have to run today. I only went out to see how it felt. This is a new beginning.
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Dan Robinson's Towards Self-Driving Codebases got me thinking about software factories. We talk a lot about putting agents in bigger loops, but a loop is only as useful as the codebase around it. I was already circling this in Excited for What's Next, when I wrote that judgment, taste, and the final decision still belong to the human.
An agent needs to run the app and see what happens. That means giving it a browser, realistic data, logs and traces, and access to third-party tools. Without that access, it might change the code around an integration, but it cannot reproduce the bug or know whether the fix works. Anthropic's browser testing work and OpenAI's harness engineering reached the same lesson: agents do better when they can test the whole product for themselves.
Self-driving loops still need someone who knows the codebase inside out. That person knows what good work looks like and can turn that judgment into tests, skills, docs, and guardrails. When a run fails, the useful response is not just to try again. It is to improve the setup, so the next agent starts with something the previous one did not have.
That feels like where the work is heading. People still make most planning decisions, while agents handle more of the execution. The expert prepares the codebase, builds the loop, and keeps making both better.
This illustrated list gives me simple reminders I can actually use: read slowly, make ugly things, question answers, get bored, spend time with people, and take my time.
These thoughts have been showing up in my days already. In Attention Reset Starts Now, I noticed that constant stimulation had made reading and sitting still feel slow and uncomfortable. Finally Touching Grass ended with how refreshing an hour in the park with my parents felt. Then Do something that won't compute reminded me to do one thing simply because I care about it, not because it makes the day look productive.
I like that this list is not asking me to compete with AI. It is asking me to protect the slow and imperfect parts of life I already know I miss when everything becomes about efficiency.
Justin Andersun calls private effort without contact with reality the cave. Wrestling taught him the difference. He could measure his technique and conditioning, but only the mat could show whether any of it helped him win.
Any worthy pursuit needs a mat.
I keep thinking about that line. The cave makes preparation feel safe because nothing outside it gets a chance to disagree with me. A writer needs readers, an entrepreneur needs customers, and an athlete needs competition. At some point I have to ship the product, share the story, or step into the ring. I might be rejected, but at least I find out what is real.
Sunday was a proper vacation. Rahul came from Gurgaon for lunch at Roastery Coffee House, and it was good to meet him after a while. We talked about how AI is disrupting software engineering and wondered what the industry might look like a year or two from now.
Later, I took my family to Sunder Nursery. We spent a good evening there, then had dosa and coffee at Carnatic Cafe. I also got my favourite Thampu soda refresher.
I also spent part of the weekend working on Interval, an app that brings together a focus-session timer, todos, and reminders to look away, drink water, stretch, or anything else. It is taking good shape now, and I'll use it through the coming week.
A few days ago, I wrote about struggling with eye strain and wanting either to use LookAway or build something for myself that combined it with Session. Well, I'm doing exactly that.
This morning I used part of the weekend to reorganize some kitchen cabinets. I started with our coffee corner. The De'Longhi espresso machine sits on a shelf, and the cabinet above it acts as our coffee bar. That cabinet could no longer hold all our coffee gear, plus the matcha and extras. I planned to move everything into the larger cabinet next to it.
Besides the espresso machine, we have a French press, an AeroPress, a moka pot, and a Hario V60 with filter papers. There are three packets of coffee, a separate container, a hand grinder, an electric grinder, and a weighing scale.
Another cabinet held three jars for my NUUK mixer, five protein shakers, and seven kinds of glass mugs for coffee. Why do we need this many? I have no idea.
In the middle of this, I found Ordinary Abundance, an interactive apartment filled with everyday comforts that were once rare or astonishing.
People once celebrated ice arriving in Calcutta. I was standing beside five ways to make coffee and seven kinds of mugs, annoyed that they would not fit.
I had plenty in front of me, but I was focused on the one thing I did not have: more space. I do the same thing with my days.
At night, the unfinished tasks are easier to remember than anything else I did. Sometimes I keep going over them instead of sleeping.
Wendell Berry's Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front asks for almost the opposite:
So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute.
I keep looking for proof that my time was well spent, which makes this difficult. The poem keeps pointing to things that resist a daily scorecard: unanswered questions, trees planted for someone else's future, and soil that takes centuries to form. I cannot finish any of them today. They still matter.
I want to try doing one thing each day simply because I care about it. It does not have to make the day look productive.
Mandy Brown's theory starts with a finite bag of fucks. Each time you care, one leaves. Later she changes the theory: care can also be received, so the bag can fill again. Then she says this:
Don’t give a fuck about your work. Give all your fucks to the living. Give a fuck about the land and the sea
Give a fuck about yourself, about your own wild and tender spirit, about your peace and especially about your art. Give every last fuck you have to living things with beating hearts and breathing lungs and open eyes, with chloroplasts and mycelia and water-seeking roots, with wings and hands and leaves. Give like every fuck might be your last.
I do not take this as permission to care less. Brown is asking me to look past "work" and name the living beings on the other side. A company, platform, or task cannot receive care. Care can reach my coworkers, the people who use what I make, the land and sea affected by it, and me.
That is how the revised bag works. Care given to an institution disappears into something that cannot give it back. Care given to living things can return as a gift. Not from everyone and not every time, but often enough that I can keep giving.
Work can be how that care moves from one living being to another. That is what makes the work good.
I like having a plan because it tells me whether I am on track. In Make life possible, Brown says uncertainty is painful, but it is also why we pay attention, make sense of what is happening, and open ourselves to other people.
Screens make uncertainty easy to avoid. Infinite scroll, autoplay, notifications, and delivery apps always seem to know what comes next, while hiding the people and improvisation underneath. The result feels predictable until reality stops following the plan.
Her advice is to take a small step, see what happens, and adjust instead of trying to predict everything. When the plan changes, creativity and other people can help with the next move.
Austin Kleon's The comedy of survival compares carpentry and gardening. A carpenter begins with a shape in mind and works until the material matches it. A gardener can prepare the soil, water it, and pay attention, but cannot order a plant to grow according to a drawing.
Most of the post draws from Joseph Meeker's book The Comedy of Survival. Meeker uses tragedy and comedy as two models for how people try to survive. In the tragic mode, the hero treats the world as something to conquer and reshape. He may get what he wants, but the damage caused by that control becomes his downfall. Kleon sees our attempts to dominate nature in the same way: we call control a success even when it destroys ecosystems we rely on.
The comic mode pays attention, adapts, enjoys small things, and tries to keep everyone alive. Comedy here does not mean pretending disaster is funny. Humor lets us admit when we are wrong and continue without treating every mistake as the end of the story. Meeker thought play was the quickest way into this mode.
The gardener works that way too. A parent cannot design a child and build toward a finished result. They can create good conditions, notice who the child is becoming, and keep adjusting. I can see the carpenter in the way I plan my days: I decide what they should look like, then get frustrated when life does something else.
Kleon uses stuttering to show what changes when we stop treating one person as the problem. If the speaker alone is expected to sound "normal," they carry the entire burden. A patient listener can remove some of that pressure by allowing pauses and not rushing to fill the silence.
For me, the comic mode means giving up the fixed outcome, paying attention to what is actually happening, and adapting together. Tragedy lets one hero's goal decide everyone else's fate. In comedy, nobody has to be sacrificed for one person's perfect ending. That focus on surviving together is why Kleon connects it to scenius.
We call someone a genius when their work seems far beyond what everyone else can do. Once that person becomes famous, the story gets shortened to one brilliant mind having ideas alone. The teachers, friends, rivals, collaborators, and audiences around them disappear.
In Further notes on scenius, Kleon writes about Brian Eno's term for the part we leave out: "scenius," or communal genius.
good work isn’t created in a vacuum, and that creativity is always, in some sense, a collaboration, the result of a mind connected to other minds.
Genius is an egosystem, scenius is an ecosystem.
The egosystem puts one person at the top and treats everyone else as support. An ecosystem has no single top. People share ideas, copy, argue, encourage one another, and add something of their own. One person may still make the thing that gets remembered, but it came out of that whole scene.
Individual talent still matters, but it grows inside a scene. I get more from people who make me curious, point out what I cannot see, challenge weak ideas, and share what they know than I do from sitting alone and wondering whether I am a genius.
I want to be around people who bring better work out of me, and I want to do the same for them. That seems more useful than worrying about whether any one of us deserves to be called a genius.
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My printer arrived today, and the spot I measured on my bookshelf fits it perfectly. All the research before ordering paid off.
I want to connect it to a Raspberry Pi 4 and make it available over the internet, so I can send print jobs from anywhere. It could automatically print a morning digest at 9 AM, a to-do list, a planner, or simply a note waiting for me when I leave my room.
Even a small printout used to mean a 30-minute trip to the market and back. Having a printer at home should save me a lot of time. A good purchase.
It feels good to see blue skies returning. Today's AQI is 54, which is crazy good for New Delhi. DLF Greens, 15 km away, is vividly visible from my room's windows.
It almost feels like I can see the edge of the city from here. What an amazing feeling. I think visibility will get even better in another week. I am excited for September and October before smog takes over the capital in November.
I finally got my sutures removed today. Finally a free man, but am I? I still need to keep my activity reduced for the next two weeks and only increase it slowly.
I spent part of the day reading:
Increase your surface area. Ship things, meet people, publish, ask. Collisions create chances.
I like how practical this makes luck sound. It is not something I have to sit around and wait for. The more things I put into the world, the more people I meet, and the more often I ask, the more chances I create for something unexpected to happen. I still cannot control the outcome, but I can give luck more opportunities to find me.
If You're So Smart, Why Aren't You Happy?
Being smart is a tool. Being happy is a decision about where to point it.
A person of average intellect who wants what he already has will outscore a genius who cannot stop wanting more.
Stop rehearsing disasters. Simulation is a talent. Aimed at the future's worst cases all day, it is a curse.
It is such a brilliant question. If I am smart, why aren't I happy? I think one should ask themselves that at least once every year and sit with the answer.
The line about rehearsing disasters felt especially familiar. I spend so much time living in the future, constructing scenarios in my head so I can prepare for and somehow outsmart life. I want to believe I am smart enough to handle every outcome, win, and succeed. In trying to prepare for everything that might happen, I forget to enjoy what is happening right now.
Of course someone who is content with what they already have can be happier than a genius who is never satisfied. Happiness is a different exam. I cannot solve it by trying to be smarter. It is more about accepting what I have and deciding what I really want.
Why Our Memory Slips After Age 50
Researchers found a major shift around age 50. Astrocytes, which support and protect the brain, lose energy and the blood-brain barrier weakens. Monocytes then enter from the blood, turn into Micro2 microglia, and replace the brain's original Micro1 microglia. The replacements can cause inflammation, though some may also help clear Alzheimer's plaques.
It is good to see science reaching this level of detail. Aging is starting to look like something we might understand and influence, not just accept. I am hopeful that within the next half a decade, we will find ways to slow it down.
I started the day with coffee and spent about two hours reading a few Substack posts I had saved.
The Psychology of People Who Are Always Calm made me see simple routines as small ways to keep the mind steady:
A morning ritual, a quiet walk, a cup of tea, a few minutes of silence before sleep. These little habits aren't random. They're anchors. Psychologically, repetition builds a sense of control and predictability.
I do not expect life to be perfect, but I care about protecting my peace:
The goal isn't to have a perfect life. It's to have a peaceful mind.
Whenever something starts bothering me, I first ask myself if it is even worth fighting over. I keep reminding myself that I owe it to myself to stay calm and happy.
How to Pay Attention Again (The Neuroscience of Focus in the Age of Everything) made me think about why sitting still has become so difficult:
High stimulation over time leads to desensitization. The more novelty you consume (think just how much content you consume in 5 mins of doomscrolling), the more you need to feel engaged. Everything else (like reading a book, sitting still, writing an email) starts to feel slow, boring, uncomfortable even.
I find it hard to just sit idle. Within five minutes I get restless and need a task or goal. Even ten empty minutes on a vacation can make me uncomfortable. On a trek, though, I feel calm and sitting still comes naturally. I am still trying to understand how to bring more of that into regular life.
Neurodivergence: Why Your Brain Was Never Meant To Be Normal talks about how the brain learns to follow whatever feels interesting. I can see that in how I work. I have never enjoyed routines or work that does not interest me. Even with agents, I often have around ten things running in parallel. A random new game or website can hold my attention better than an important long-term goal simply because it feels exciting right now.
How to Trick Your Brain into Doing Difficult Things gave me a name for a trick I already use: ego protection. I see myself as athletic and in control, so before a weekend run at Nehru Park, I tell everyone that I am waking up at 5 AM. When the alarm rings, I now have my self-image to protect and it becomes harder to back out. It works surprisingly well.
I also read The Last Question. It is a short story about humans repeatedly asking computers if entropy can be reversed, with the answer unfolding all the way to the end of the universe. After reading it, I wanted more science fiction. I ended up ordering Project Hail Mary: Collector's Gift Edition, The Complete Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy box set, and Isaac Asimov's complete seven-book Foundation series.
Reading the four posts together made me look at how I have trained my attention. If I keep giving my brain something new every few seconds, normal work and quiet time will naturally feel slow.
Instagram is the obvious place to start. Most mornings, I open it before getting out of bed, planning to scroll for five minutes, and suddenly 30 or 40 minutes are gone. I hate starting my day that way. I am not on a trip and have nothing to post, so I am removing the app from my phone for a week.
Pomodoro timers, handwritten goals, and planning the day early have helped me out of unfocused phases before, so I am starting those again.
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Picked up my anti-glare, blue-light filtering glasses today. I'll try them for the next couple of weeks and see if they make a difference.
Went to get anti-glare and blue-light glasses today. Felt a little old doing it, but I guess there's no defeating nature. At least yesterday's eye test went well and my vision is perfectly fine.
I also started using LookAway. It interrupts me every 10 minutes and asks me to look into the distance for 15 seconds. It is a little distracting, but my eyes will probably thank me later. For now, I just look at the “Rescue Hospital” sign through the window on my right.
Spent some time reading these:
The bit about bugs in Joy & Curiosity got me thinking about setting up Amp automations that keep looking for bugs and errors in my codebase.
Reading all three left me feeling a little weird. Part of me is scared that these models are getting so powerful that they might basically solve software engineering in the next couple of years. At the same time, I'm really excited about everything we'll be able to make with them.
I'm also worried about how much AI slop this will create. Vibe coding makes it easy to prototype faster, but that is not the same as taking the time to craft high-quality software.
I still believe the judgment, taste, and final decision belong to the human. We decide what good looks like. But what happens when future models have better taste than us, or make better architectural decisions than we do?
I also keep thinking about people entering software engineering in the future. Will it even make sense when the models we have today are already more capable than most junior engineers? It is crazy out there. Still, if I had to pick one feeling, I'm excited.
I also read Kyle Lambert's post about building a backyard office. It immediately took me back to renovating my apartment in 2023.
I spent a good eight months building almost everything from scratch: flooring, plumbing, electrical work, walls, false ceilings, woodwork, doors, panelling, the kitchen, and the bathrooms. It was the biggest project of my life so far.
Every decision became its own little research project. I would spend days comparing materials and finding the best people or brands for each part. It was exhausting, but I loved being part of every tiny decision and watching the place slowly come together.
Spent a good four hours at Roastery Cafe today, mostly reading:
Also added Being Mortal by Atul Gawande to my Kindle.
All the screen time has been leaving my eyes pretty strained for last couple months, so today was finally eye-test day. The good news is that my vision is perfectly fine. The less good news is that my eyes are extremely dry. The doctor recommended two eye drops and anti-glare glasses.
Now I’m thinking about either buying or building a Mac app that nudges me to look into the distance every five minutes.
LookAway comes close, but what I really want is one app that combines something like Session with todos, notes, eye-break nudges, and water reminders. That sounds much nicer than having a separate app for every tiny habit.
Ended the day with an hour at one of my favourite parks in Dwarka with my mom and dad, right around golden hour. Touching grass after such a long time felt surprisingly refreshing.
The stitches still aren’t out, but my knee feels much better now that it has been over nine days. Even drove today for the first time since August 20.
Set up a neat little routine with Amp too. An agent thread wakes up every morning, ready to collect whatever is on my mind, not just a list of things I did. By the end of the day, those thoughts can be turned into an update here.
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Spent Raksha Bandhan with my sister today. I gifted her a moka pot and a bunch of books, although she had already bought and wrapped everything herself. I mostly just showed up for the ceremonial handover.
Later, I switched gears to exploring Kernel and building a browser-use agent for Little Bird AI.
I turned multiple Macs into remotely accessible Amp runners today.
I can now:
I started writing A Little Internet Portal on My Wall and finally hit the milestone of finishing it before going to sleep.
I also watched a psychologist friend who does not work in tech build a website for themselves with Codex today. Seeing them turn an idea into a real site was unexpectedly exciting.
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At home in New Delhi, the pegboard beside my desk holds the small objects that make the space feel like mine. Among them is a 64 × 64 iDotMatrix display, connected to /pixel through an ESP32.
I spent today rewriting that connection and moving its storage to a public Git repository. The playground lets anyone post a drawing or leave me a note. It joins the latest submissions rotating on the display, so something made there will appear beside my desk at home.
Everything is deployed and finally looks fun. It has been quite an interesting project, and I am happy to share it with folks tomorrow.
On 20 August, I had a small soft-tissue cyst removed from my right knee. Today, I went back to have the dressing redone.
For the next 10 days, I need to change the dressing every third day. Once those 10 days are up, the stitches can finally be removed.
Until then, I should avoid moving around too much. The stitches are right around my knee, so I also need to avoid bending it.
