XXIIVV

2026

20D

2026-02-16 Mathematically elegant, but thermodynamically fictional

In classical logic, bindings are inexhaustible, if a formula proves something from x, you can use x ten times, or zero times, it doesn’t matter. But programming doesn’t work like that, resources do matter. I don't say this to mean that copying a register is costing cycles, but that semantically speaking, closing a file or freeing memory should consume the access to that resource.

In catlangs, bindings are fuel, if you want two copies, you must duplicate. It becomes an operation, not a ambient assumption. Jean-Yves Girard wrote extensively about this, and his insight was that this linear logic was closer to reality, it makes logic reflect process. In other words, traditional logic is static and he wanted a logic of change.

I see Forth thrown left and right around permacomputing circles on vague notions of efficiency and human-scaleness, but I think what lies beneath these intuitions is that classical logic assumes infinite copyability. Which is unrealistic for memory, energy and just about any physical system. Stack machines expose the structural rules that classical logic hides, duplication and erasure are explicit instructions. This conservation law aligns logic with a finite natural world.

Programming languages typically hide duplication and lifetimes, or tack helpers on top as an afterthought. Values duplicate freely, things exist everywhere at once, names abstract away placement, this may activate one's linguistic thought process but keep the spatial system asleep. My experience with catlang has had less to do with fussing with names and symbols and more to do with something like weaving. On this loom, things don't have names but occupy spaces in a braid over time. If I had to guess, I'd say that probably triggers the same geometrically thinking part of the brain that tracks physical objects.

And that's the unique bit about catlangs.

20C

2026-02-11 Ink & Switch Madrid

Rek and I have just returned from a delightful couple of days deep in the wintry Spanish countryside, holed up in a labyrinthine medieval monastery with the Ink & Switch team.

It does my mood something good to sit among peers who are singularly focused on researching how to make the craft of computing more approachable, robust and playful. The activity of hand-crafting software seems unfortunately a rather radical and rebellious practice right now. But a sort of push back, or at least, willingness to challenge the prevailing narrative recurred in nearly every session I attended, at times lasting late into the night.

I especially enjoyed geeking out about Smalltalk & Self with Dan Ingalls, playtesting Lilith Duncan's game, reciting Ivan Reese's interminable list of four-letters words, sharing a day with folks from Merveilles whom I had been meaning to meet in person for the longest time, finding a zipline and calisthenics park among the olive trees and stuffing my face with bread.

It wasn't all good news tho, I experienced sopa de ajo blanco for the first(and last) time, and even after days of learning to operate these European light switches where the button is pressed down to light things up, I only ever managed the rocker correctly half the time.

Bear and strawberry tree

20B

2026-01-26 Sewing Machine

Isn't just wonderful that clothes come with their sources? If you slice the different parts off with a seamripper, lay them all down, trace them on new fabric, cut them out, and stitch them back together, you can effectively clone and fork garments. I realize that this is probably real obvious to most people, but it only dawned on me recently.

So, that’s what I’ve been up to, most nights my laptop is stowed away to make room for the sewing machine on the nav table. It all began when the store that made the patrol cap that Rek and I wear stopped carrying it. The seams of the old worn-out cap were cut, new 14oz canvas was bought and the cap was cloned, twice! I enjoyed the process so much, I made a new messenger backpack, fixed ripped panels on my winter jacket, sown tartan wool arm warmers and some other things. At one point, I realized that I was wearing six items of clothing I had made or mended.

House Of The Future(1957)

20A

2026-01-06 New Logo

Back in 2006, when the XXIIVV logo was created, web 2.0 aesthetics were in full swing, outer glows and shiny vertical gradients were everywhere. As a reaction to that trend, I tried to design it as stark as possible, without decoration and without texture. The goal was for it to be representable using only a handful of Bézier control points which aligned with my style at the time.

In 2026, the era of gradients and extrusion blendings has long passed, minimalism reigns supreme, logos are reduced to simple black shapes with not a single line that couldn't be justified to a board-meeting. So, I felt the urge to move away from all that, and get something closer to the works I do today, and at the same time, find a way to express my love for cursive and analog practices.

In other words, the change was to go from a logo that can be written in a single stroke by a computer, to one that can be written in a single stroke by a person.