Nostr is dead. Well, not quite dead. Not dead dead. But dead-ish. We've been here before. Maybe not as bad as this. Maybe a third-step-cousin-in-law kind of close. Last summer. And possibly the summer before that. But at other times nostr has not been dead. Maybe not fully alive. Definitely not alive alive. Alive alive was Dec 2022-April 2023. Once in a generation kind of alive. The kind of alive that makes it worth being alive. But no, that was it. That was the one time. But the rest of the time, other than now and last summer and the summer before, it has been not dead. Because every time you think it's dead, you hear the tiny ping of a zap from six feet under. And cadavers don't zap. They don't post memes and they don't fight vigorously out in the open about topics very few people want to understand, let alone care about, and they don't do other stuff. Like music. And film. And believe it or not, books too. And they don't zap. I said that already but it's worth repeating. So, what's the point of all this? There is none. Other than nostr is dead. And that's okay.

GM Exactly one year ago, I said “no.” I choose life.

Plebchain Radio Ep. 160 – live with @paul keating and DirectorHodl View live event →

The Nostr booth returns to @BTC Prague this year. Thank you @npub1f40e...jn7l for pushing for this. This will be THE place to hang out during the conference, a cypherpunk sanctuary. Thank you @npub1frdm...h4dd and @npub1wrzg...cm02 for helping make this happen along with @nosfabrica

GM It takes a very specific kind of crazy person who chooses to build on bitcoin and nostr. You’re trying to sell a product to people who don’t have the time to use it or the money to pay for it.

Single fragment sentence paragraph. The same anaphora here. The same anaphora next to it. The same anaphora to round it off. This isn’t a human soul; it’s a machine. Not original. Not thoughtful. Just generated. There is a particular kind of stillness where you realize you can write more than a singleton, a dyad, a triad. Peace. The sharp, bright edge of every noun is be amplified by the cold, stark light of an adjective. An intensifier. A clarity that no one asked for, a brevity that no one claimed, an answer that no one demanded. But there is an another way. Before anaphora, before rhetorical contrast, before declarative negative lists, there was something else. Something warm. Something human. Something someone somewhere once created and never apologized for it. Prose. It hums within you. Silently. Quietly. Silently. Find it. The ghost of it. The echo of it. The phantom.

The correct question

No greater sorrow than losing a best friend

Live with Paco on Plebchain Radio View live event →