GA folks!
I've been quiet on social media lately while my life does a complete re-calibration with many somersaults and unexpected twists + turns.
Life has deigned this year to be the hardest trial of my adult life so far, but the underlying thread remains constant: guard thy dreams, and build toward thy vision of the future. Alacrity and immense trust have been impossible to live even a single day without.
As the fires rage, what is left behind is a true, sparking diamond: a truer sense of Self, and a clearer vision for my life ahead.
Keep on keepin' on, team. It's a joy to build and breathe alongside such excellent folks.
#music #ai #aimusic #suno #soundcloud
My mother has been blind for thirty-eight years. She has built businesses, raised children, navigated a world never designed for her. She is not helpless. She is one of the most capable people I have ever known.
And she is falling behind.
Not because she lacks will. Because the world decided the future would be screens, and moved on without looking back.
I want to tell you what it's like to be someone's eyes.
It starts small. "Can you read me this email?" Then it becomes your second life. You're on the phone at 9 PM walking her through a password reset. You're reading a government form line by line because the PDF isn't accessible. You're explaining that the button she needs is the third from the left — except they redesigned the app last Tuesday and now it's a swipe gesture. Nobody told her.
Every "improved user experience" is an earthquake for someone who memorized where things were. Every app update is a setback. Every visual CAPTCHA is a locked door with no key.
Here's an experiment. Tonight, turn on Screen Curtain on your phone — it makes the display go black while the phone stays on — then, turn on VoiceOver. Now try to check your email. Read one message. Reply to it. Download a new app and log in.
If you did that, you just experienced five minutes of what my mother navigates every day. Except she doesn't get to turn the lights back on. And she's better at it than you were — thirty-eight years of practice. But even the best VoiceOver user is working ten times harder to do the same thing you do without thinking.
JAWS, the industry-standard screen reader, costs over a thousand dollars. Braille displays start at two thousand. These aren't luxuries — they're the basic instruments that let a blind person participate in the digital economy.
Seventy percent of blind Americans are unemployed. Not because they can't work — because the tools required to work were never built for them. Ninety-five percent of the top million websites fail basic accessibility standards.
So I'm building something.
It's called The Blind Computer. You pick up the phone and call a number. On the other end is an AI assistant that knows you. You talk to it like a person. No screen. No app. No gestures to memorize.
"Read me my emails." It reads them. "Reply to Linda and tell her Tuesday works." Done. "Help me write an invoice for the Peterson consultation." Written, read back, sent when you approve.
Voice is the interface. A phone call is the terminal. The AI is the bridge between a person who cannot see and a world that refuses to be heard.
My mother shouldn't need a computer science degree to check her email. She shouldn't need her son on speed dial every time a website changes its layout.
She needs a bridge. Millions of people need this bridge. Let's build it.
