I remember the good times of LiveJournal and autonomous blogs¹. I met people without saying “hello” to them. I read their thoughts, encountered oddities and stupidities that gradually revealed the author’s personality. They were my friends!

Then came marketing. Marketers taught how to write better - this was the beginning of the end. Blogs became like plastic “Barbie houses”. There is no need to be afraid that artificial intelligence will replace writers, because the writer has already been replaced by a marketer.

Instead of creating a place to express (or find) themselves, authors turn their blog into a glamour magazine, “business media”, or a verified dry document. They try to find a better voice and correct mistakes, but in the end they lose both their voice and the opportunity to make mistakes (because we must make mistakes in order to grow).

Notes are not a work of art - they are ore.

Yes, you need to learn to write well — good text helps to structure thoughts. But the “editor-in-chief”² cutting up the text in pursuit of points is extreme. Read the “editorial”³ texts — dry, documentary, with an artificial note of soul.

I was surprised to notice that I find it interesting to reread the drafts of my notes (notes that I did not publish for some reason). This is ore — black, dirty, but with value inside. Or without value, but this remains to be seen. There are real emotions there, because they are still very fresh; thoughts that lead to a dead end or to the top of the mountain.

“Ore” is needed for production. News, thoughts, links. For example, I’m working on a podcast right now and have to process a lot of that ore. Of course, you can rebroadcast it as is, but then I won’t be in it. I want to be a source, not a channel - that’s very important!

To have the courage to publish a draft as soon as possible, you need to work with the garage door open.

Here’s what Andy Matuschak⁴ writes about public work:

There’s a scientific glassblowing studio north of us; I walk past it on the sidewalk often. By simply existing, and having a nice sign that faces the street, they are doing a small public service every day. We are here, working.

In the same light industrial complex as the Murray Street Media Lab, there’s a woodworking shop, and the man who runs it always keeps his door propped open. Simple as that. What a delight, every damn day, to ride my bike past that door and peek inside and see all his tools, the boards stacked up for whatever commission he’s undertaking. I am here, working.

For me, Andy’s evergreen notes is a great example of public service.

I don’t know where my thoughts will take me. I just create a new text file in Obsidian and start writing - whole thoughts or fragments, links and feelings can go in there. Tomorrow, I or someone else will find a gem in this ore. Or not.