in the autopsy

Whiskey on ice tonight?

that night, i realized i barely knew anything about that man. i couldn't remember his birthday. i didn't know his favorite color. i didn't know all the things he wanted from life or what kind of future he imagined for himself.

there will always be women who know those things. women who remember the details i never learned.

but on the nights when my pillow still smelled like him, when the sheets were still warm from where he had been, i thought maybe those things didn't matter so much.

maybe knowing someone could also mean knowing that he wanted a quiet life while i kept choosing chaos. knowing that he loved me in his own strange way. knowing the exact day i broke his heart.

in the autopsy

how to ruin a daughter

anyone who's ever known me when i'm in love knows how completely fucked up i can be. i have a habit of wanting love more than anything in the world and then having absolutely no idea what to do with it when it's mine.

in the machine

the code that helped land Apollo 11

i'm sharing the original Apollo 11 source code, written for NASA's historic 1969 mission that landed the first humans on the moon. developed by teams at MIT, including one led by Margaret Hamilton, this software helped guide the spacecraft and kept critical operations running even when

in the machine

on AI, art, and human hands

i had a boss named Dave. Dave loved AI. Dave also had opinions about how i was using AI. a lot of opinions. wrong model. no tools. no retrieval. no memory. no agent. no second agent supervising the first agent. Dave, i am trying to rename a file. i got

in the notebook

the every version of me

i don't think people realize how quickly i have changed over the years, mostly because from the outside it probably looked like reinvention. from where i stood, it often felt more like burial. there was the million-dollar baby Bailey whose ambitious lit up the building. she learned