I love Kottke.org. I love Installer. I read almost every edition of each. I just want more. More stuff about the things I like (backpacking, photography, rockets, space, etc.) more often. So I’m training an AI web search tool to go find me stories that I like and package them in a format I enjoy. It’s learning over time - I send feedback to it after every edition and it refines the models with an updated understanding of my taste. I can also send it stories that I find on my own to 1) refine the taste model and 2) have some shared editorial autonomy. Some will dismiss this as AI slop. I am also quite skeptical of AI and whether any of it is worth it. But I’m also using this opportunity to learn more about it - what it can and can’t do. And a personalized newsletter seems like a fairly harmless way to do that.
So yeah. This is for me. But I figure there are others that may enjoy it too - so I’m posting the daily runs here. It’s doing a pretty decent job right now and will hopefully get better at representing my taste and interests over time. I already see it working, so I’m hopeful.
June 12, 2026
Tonight, systems behaving in ways their builders never imagined — Pokémon Go footage feeding military drones, a flight tracker repurposed as an apocalypse alarm, an AI agent that bankrupted its operator. A wall of unintended consequences, with a couple of handmade objects to slow the room down.
June 11, 2026
Tonight, what becomes legible only at the right scale or instrument — a GPS trail aggregated across millions of phones, a whale call layered over a seismic blast, an eleven-year orbital atmospheric record. Visible because something kept watching, kept logging, and someone went back to look.
June 10, 2026
Tonight, patient looking — catalogues, animations, and maps that reveal themselves only when someone stacks enough small observations together. A five-million-year whale graveyard; a century of Japanese rail openings, one dot at a time; a collector counting photos of women in trees.
June 9, 2026
Tonight, one question — what stays put? Public-trust land, alpine glaciers, satellite signals, even the working definition of a photograph. Each item catches a piece of infrastructure mid-rewrite.
June 8, 2026
Tonight, what shows up when someone looks at the record carefully — a medieval cipher that yields to a machine-learning model, statistical fingerprints in a decade of antibody images, a vanished polar balloon remembered in stone. Patient looking, and what it returns.
June 7, 2026
Tonight, a quiet thread — things that took a long time. A century-old color theory finally completed, a photograph grown like a crop, a reactor lit after years of paperwork. Patience as both method and subject.
June 6, 2026
Tonight's selections share a quiet preoccupation with time — what accumulates when someone stays with a subject, a craft, or a place long enough to know it differently. A lens repair shop, a 20-year photo project, peel-apart film made one sheet at a time, a canyon revisited years later. Even the GPS investigation rewards the kind of patience that notices a "random" field is anything but.
June 5, 2026
Tonight's selection is a set of traces. A flatworm fed another flatworm and the question of what it remembers. A contract that reveals what the IRS will hand to whoever asks the right API. A jamming source mapped across a continent. A fault line you can hear. Six years of one photographer moving through American poverty. Slow signals, patiently followed.
June 4, 2026
Tonight, one question — what gets disclosed, and by what mechanism? A scale model of a bay built to win an argument, a chatbot talked out of account access, a telescope sniffing methane on an interstellar comet. Each piece, in its way, about making a system legible.
June 3, 2026
Tonight, architecture in the broadest sense — the granite stacks of the Wind Rivers, the bus design of an early console, a hypertext system hiding inside a Nabokov novel. Take something apart, and look at what holds it together.
June 2, 2026
Tonight, borrowed instruments and quiet failures — a webcam turned head-tracker, weather satellites moonlighting as meteor detectors, a county health department treating a long trail as a field site. Tools doing unintended work, and the infrastructure that fails behind the scenes.
June 1, 2026
Tonight, a theme of patient looking — a sterilized soil still reacting after six years, a creek's fish passage rebuilt over decades, silicon read through infrared. What becomes visible only when someone keeps watching.
May 31, 2026
Tonight, hidden systems on long clocks — water aging for years inside a mountain, the lattice geometry about to become encryption's new floor, a colonial archive reread by the artists who inherited it. Real work, done where you can't see it.
May 30, 2026
Tonight, instruments pressed past their intended purpose — sonar tapes into continental maps, solar telescopes into four centuries of patience, a Wi-Fi router into a portrait of the human body.
May 29, 2026
Tonight, an issue about taking familiar things and finding new angles on them — a NASA science satellite repurposed as a jammer detector, a Paris café map that answers a question no one had bothered to ask, a 200-mile race run entirely in the dark, a Star Wars monologue read closely. Each piece a small change of perspective.
May 28, 2026
Tonight, an issue about the structures behind what we see — a soundscape mapped under a streetscape, a treaty drafted under a lunar perimeter, a contact sheet under a finished print, a wartime supply road under a wilderness trail. Origins and hidden infrastructures, surfaced.
May 27, 2026
Tonight, an issue about instruments of measurement and what they quietly reveal — or hide. A baguette as a cost-of-living proxy, a crowdsourced map of contested AI data centers, a chest strap versus a $99 screenless wrist sensor, the default bar chart's blind spot. The yardsticks are the story.
May 26, 2026
Tonight, an issue about small signals worth slowing down for — a wiggle in archived telemetry from a now-silent Mars spacecraft, a 160-year taxonomic puzzle resolved by cross-referencing five kinds of evidence, a cryptographic trick that splits a secret across pieces too small to mean anything alone. Most of what's worth knowing was already there.
May 25, 2026
Tonight, an issue made up of small operations done patiently — a Ukrainian film coater working from a garage, an engineer who rode away from a nuclear plant on a bicycle, cameras left running in submerged caves. Quiet work, attended to slowly.
May 24, 2026
Tonight, an issue on what constraint reveals — a watch face redrawn for a small screen, a smooth surface that loses to roughness, a 430,000-year-old wooden tool. Familiar things found to contain more than the first look admits.