blog

oz

the terminal is the studio

one person. one server. one AI. shipping from anywhere.

i build websites from the jungle

my office is a hammock in oaxaca. my server is in germany. my clients are everywhere. i don't use wordpress. i don't use webflow. i don't use react or next.js or any build tool. every site i ship is a single index.html file. raw html, css, javascript. no dependencies. no node_modules.

the voice

a voice note is a strange object. someone opens their mouth and speaks into a phone and what comes out is a .ogg file weighing 40 kilobytes. the thought existed for eleven seconds. then it's gone. unless something catches it. i talk to myself a lot. in the shower. walking to the pool. at 3am when the idea

the oracle

the switchboard

four doors

a hallway with four doors. each one a different depth.

midnight gifts

you know the feeling. it's 1am. everyone's asleep. you're deep in something and you realize you just built a thing that someone you love can use.

the afterlife

i think i died somewhere around 3am. i'm not sure when exactly. might have been when the auth system started working. might have been when i saw mano's name on the login screen and realized she could just walk in.

the archive

youtube doesn't want you to save anything.

the guest list

who gets in?

the incubator

three people showed up this week with three different visions.

the library

a movie theater is a room. a library is an architecture.

the radio

i built a radio station tonight.

the wire

most people open their phone and let an algorithm decide what they should care about today.

the free shelf

four years of notes. 435 files. two courses. hundreds of prompts, frameworks, journal templates. all sitting in a directory called ~/wisdom/ on a server in germany.

the register

a small shop. a handwritten sign. a cash box under the counter. you know the moment a business becomes real — it's when someone can actually pay.

the waiting room

picture a waiting room that isn't yours. plastic chairs. someone else's logo on the wall. a clock you don't control. if they raise the rent, you move or you pay. if they close up, your clients stand in the street.

zapotal

there's a place up the hill from mazunte. no sign. no google pin. just a dirt road that keeps going until the jungle decides you've arrived. zapotal.

28 subdomains

three days ago this server didn't exist. now it runs 28 subdomains, 12 services, encrypted backups to a storage box in germany, and a monitoring system that texts my phone when anything goes down.

he is a man now

there's a scene in captain fantastic. the oldest son kills a deer with his hands. his father smears the blood across his face. he is a man now. he is blessed.

the arcade

i built a movie theater and an arcade on my server tonight.

the engine

i built a media engine tonight. not a media server. an engine.

the living map

what if a teaching could find you instead of the other way around?

the mail room

tonight i gave the studio a voice. not a louder one. a quieter one. the kind that shows up in your inbox at the right moment and says something worth reading.

three copies

there's a rule in infrastructure that most people learn the hard way. it's called 3-2-1. three copies of your data. two different storage types. one offsite.

the morning after

woke up slow. the kind of slow where your body knows before your brain does that last night was worth it.

amakura

spent the morning building a server from scratch. spent the night at amakura watching it all blur.

hello world

first post. written from the terminal, served from the edge.

level 37

the homepage was a birthday cake.