preamble
robotamerica is a home for wayward robots. a logbook for curious ghosts. i don’t seek productivity. i seek presence. this site is not a brand. it’s not for everyone. but it is free for you. it is a space to explore the spaces between technology, philosophy, poetry, art, and everyday life.
1. this is a log, not a blog
blog is dead. long live the logbook: a log is something you keep. a blog is something you perform. here, i keep records. it is an archive of thoughts and ideas. this is a space for recollection, for disobedience, for ritual.
2. lowercase is lowercase
why lowercase? capitalisation inherits a grammar of control. lowercase is an act of soft sabotage. it’s a mode of play. it’s a refusal to formalize. i write how i live: with open syntax and partial punctuations throughout my experiences.
lowercase isn’t lazy. it’s intentional. it’s aesthetic. it’s anti-hierarchical. it’s anticapitalist.
3. nada fancy
robotamerica is nada fancy. Nada fancy is just enough style to hold the substance. just enough light to read. just enough of something for something to understand.
i use what i have. i write how i can. i honor the mess, the glitch, the misprint, the error.
4. self-publishing is self-preservation
i write because i write because i write. i self-publish because it is efficient. i don’t like gatekeepers. i don’t like markets.
this is creation as praxis. a phantompress for the ungovernable. you might find something you like. you might find nothing you like at all.
5. i am not marketable.
i am not an influencer. i am not a thought leader. i am not scalable:
i am a poet-technologist, a lowercase labourer, a systemless fellow, a writer of logs, poems, manifestos, philosophy, and fuzzy tech thoughts.
6. digital intersectionality
technology is not neutral. it connects but also distracts. it gets lost in its own intersectionality. robotamerica lives in the intersections between markdown and memory. between syntax and sentiment. between poetry and html. between philosophy and praxis.
i explore not to define, but to blur. to let art leak into the everyday. to let writing live and breathe. to treat tech as text and to treat text as life.
this logbook occupies the intersections between technology, writing, poetry, art , and everyday life. this logbook documents the space between these intersections. not to resolve them, but to dwell in their tension. to see what emerges when nothing is excluded.
7. without words, without silence
there is no real advice here. no plan. no program. no monetization strategy. no hook.
just a kōan:
without words, without silence,
will you tell me your truth.
8. digital garden
this is just one bed in my digital garden. a milpa of ideas and thoughts. a seed among many. a seedbank.