So Apparently Facebook Might Keep You Posting After You’re Dead?

I thought dying was a reasonably reliable way of stopping your social-media activity. Apparently, even that may eventually become optional. Because Meta has been granted a patent for technology that could allow an AI to simulate a user of a social network when that person is no longer around. The patent has the wonderfully reassuring title Simulation of a user of a social networking system using a language model.

See here for more: https://www.businessinsider.com/meta-granted-patent-for-ai-llm-bot-dead-paused-accounts-2026-2?utm_source=chatgpt.com and https://patents.justia.com/patent/12513102?utm_source=chatgpt.com.

Basically, an AI could learn from the things you have posted, liked, commented on and interacted with, and then use all that information to behave a little bit like you. Sounds like typical AI. But then it gets interesting. The patent explicitly talks about situations in which somebody is absent from a social network for a longer period. Perhaps you have simply decided that spending three hours a day scrolling through Facebook isn’t actually improving your life. Fair enough. But the patent mentions another possible reason for your absence. You might be dead. And your AI version could potentially carry on.

I find this a genuinely bizarre idea.

Now, I can imagine some situations in which technology like this could actually be useful. Someone who knows they are seriously ill might want a few messages to appear after their death. A birthday message for their children, perhaps. A final note to friends. Maybe even a couple of posts saying goodbye. We already do something similar with letters and videos.

But there is quite a big difference between:

“Here are five messages I wrote before I died. Please publish them afterwards.”

and:

“Here is an AI that has studied everything I ever posted. Just let it carry on being me.”

The first is still you. The second is somebody’s statistical approximation of you. That difference becomes even more interesting when money enters the picture. Imagine that you have built a very successful social media account. Perhaps you have thousands of followers. Every post generates hunderds of comments, likes and shares. People spend time looking at your content. The platform serves advertising around all that activity. Your account has commercial value. Then one day you stop posting. Perhaps you simply decide that social media is no longer for you. Perhaps you disappear for what the patent calls a longer period. Or perhaps you die.

Normally, that would mean the end of the content stream. No more posts and no more comments. So, no more engagement. And obviously: No more advertising around all that engagement. Unless, of course, an AI version of you could simply continue. And that is where I start to feel rather uncomfortable about this idea.

To be absolutely clear: having a patent does not mean that a social network is about to introduce this. Companies patent enormous numbers of ideas that never become actual products. At least not yet. But the patent does make the possibility technically and commercially imaginable. And once you look at it that way, some fairly strange questions appear. If the AI keeps posting after I have left a social network, are those still my posts? If it responds to somebody, have I responded? When a racist or otherwise offensive message appears on my account, how do I prove that it wasn’t posted by me, but by an AI? If it expresses an opinion I would probably have expressed, is that my opinion? And who decides when it should stop?

There’s something else I find particularly odd about all this. For years, a lot of people have been putting enormous amounts of themselves into social networks: photos, conversations, friendships, opinions, jokes, arguments, interests, political discussions, holiday pictures, and thousands upon thousands of small signals about who we are. Until now, we mostly thought of that as data about our past behaviour. AI potentially turns it into something else: training material for a future version of ourselves.

I’m not on Facebook, but I can imagine that, for many people, a Facebook profile used to be something of a digital archive. You could scroll back and see what someone actually said ten years ago. An AI-generated account would be fundamentally different. It could start producing things that the original person never said at all. Perhaps they would have said them. Perhaps not. We will never know, will we?

I suspect there will eventually be useful applications for this kind of ideas. Used deliberately and under the control of the person involved, it might even become a fascinating new way of leaving something behind. But an automated social-media ghost that continues generating engagement because its owner is “absent for a longer period”? That sounds considerably less appealing. Especially when the platform running the ghost also happens to make money from keeping people scrolling, commenting and watching.

The Best Platform Is the One You Own

A few days ago I came across this video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kZY7eLm264) by investigative journalist Scott Carney and it reminded me of one of the most important lessons of the independent web: Build your own website. That doesn’t mean you should stop using other platforms. Far from it. Platforms can be useful. They can help you find people, join conversations and get your work in front of an audience. And some of them are genuinely nice places. They may be small. They may be run by people whose ideas about the internet you completely agree with. They may feel like communities rather than companies. But they are still somebody else’s place. That distinction matters.

Friendly platforms are still platforms

In the video Carney discusses his relationship with Substack. And I think it is a particularly interesting one because Substack originally seemed like an alternative to the big social platforms. The basic idea was attractive: writers could publish directly for readers, readers could pay them directly and journalists would no longer have to depend entirely on publishers, advertising or algorithms.

But Carney argues that Substack itself is changing (https://sgcarney.substack.com/p/the-real-reason-that-substack-is). It added Notes, which looks much more like a traditional social-media feed. It introduced the distinction between subscribers and followers, and added video, livestreaming and short clips. In other words, a service built around newsletters and subscriptions gradually started looking more like the platforms it once seemed to offer an alternative to.

That matters because, according to Carney, all that free content and endless scrolling may be good for growing Substack, but not necessarily for the people publishing there. His own follower numbers increased dramatically, while the number of people actually paying for his work did not grow in anything like the same way. He describes the broader problem as subscription fatigue: there are only so many newsletters people have the time and money to pay for.

What I find particularly interesting is his response. He doesn’t dramatically announce that he is leaving the internet or refusing to use platforms ever again. He adapts. He uses YouTube. He works with sponsors, although he says he is very selective about the companies he accepts money from. And he no longer assumes that one particular platform or one particular business model will provide a permanent solution.

You give up control

To me, that is exactly the point. The problem with building your online presence on a platform is not necessarily that the people running it are evil, greedy or waiting for an opportunity to lock you in. They may be wonderful people. The problem is simply that you don’t control what happens next. Because someone else controls the software. Someone else decides how it develops. Someone else can change the rules, the business model or the priorities. The organisation behind it can run out of money, change direction, be acquired or simply disappear.

Your website should be the center

This is why I increasingly think of platforms as satellites. My website is the center. I can post links somewhere else. I can participate in discussions. I can experiment with new communities and services. If one of them disappears tomorrow, that would be annoying. But Just Me would still be here. My articles would still be here. My links would still work. My no doubt bizar collection of posts about Linux, space, music, open source, digital autonomy, industrial technology, old websites and whatever else happens to interest me would still have a home.

To me that is important. Especially now that so much of the internet seems to consist of publishing things inside systems controlled by somebody else.

And there is another reason

There is also a much less serious reason to build your own website: It is fun.

You can change the design because you feel like it. Add a page nobody asked for. Build a ridiculous little web tool. Change your fonts. Break something. Repair it again. Discover that WordPress is doing something mysterious. Spend far too much time solving a problem that nobody visiting your site will ever notice.

That is part of the pleasure. A personal website isn’t just a publishing platform. It is also a project. And unlike almost every other platform on the internet, it can become exactly as boring, complicated, colourful, minimal, experimental or peculiar as you want it to be. Because it is yours. Maybe that is the best reason of all.

Journalism Has Plenty of Ideas. So Why Do We Keep Throwing Them Away?

For the past five or six years, I have been involved in something resembling a Dragon’s Den at a Dutch journalism school. Groups of students have to come up with an idea for a new journalistic product. They develop the concept, think about the audience, work out a business model and eventually present the whole thing to a jury.

I enjoy doing this. Some of the ideas are not particularly interesting. Others are reasonable, but turn out to be variations on things that already exist. That does not bother me too much. These students are young. They are inexperienced. They are learning. I don’t expect a group of journalism students to have the market knowledge of someone who has worked in media for twenty years.

And every now and then, there is an idea where you think: yes, there is something here. Perhaps it is not quite ready. Perhaps the business model is shaky (it always is at least that…) . Perhaps the technology is too ambitious. But you can see a potentially interesting journalistic product emerging.

And then something rather strange happens.

Nothing.

Six years of ideas disappearing

As far as I know, not one of the projects I have seen during all those years has actually been developed into a real product. Not one. I find that seriously disappointing. Not because I expect students to start companies immediately after presenting their project. Most of them have exams to finish, internships to do and careers to start. But there is something odd about a journalism programme generating dozens and dozens of new product ideas and apparently treating almost all of them as disposable.

Present -> Get a grade -> Move on

Next year, a new group of students arrives and everybody starts from zero again. Why?

I have discussed this with people at the school before. Why does every team have to invent something completely new? What if a previous group had a genuinely good idea but took it in the wrong direction? A new team might see something the first team missed. What if a new group improved the prototype? What if group three tested it with a real audience? What if the group in the next year finally launched it?

That starts to look a lot more like actual product development. And, frankly, journalism could use some of that.

Build a library

There is an even simpler option: put all those ideas online. Create a website where the school publishes the concepts developed by its students. Explain the problem each project tried to solve, the proposed product and the intended audience. Forget the business model, that will come later. Don’t hide the unsuccessful ideas either. They may be the most interesting ones.

After a few years, you would have an enormous collection of experiments in journalism. Future students could browse through it. Journalists could browse through it. Independent publishers and content creators looking for ideas could browse through it. Existing media companies suffering from the familiar shortage of internal product innovation could browse through it. Someone might look at a five-year-old student project and think: that was actually a pretty good idea. It just needs this.

That would be useful, both for developing new journalistic products and, importantly, for journalists looking for work. At the moment, many of these projects seem to disappear shortly after the presentation. That feels like an extraordinary waste.

Maybe the ideas should be smaller

There is another assumption worth questioning. Why does a student team have to invent an entire journalistic product? A publication. A platform. An app. A new media brand. Those are huge projects. Perhaps journalism students should sometimes also be encouraged to solve one irritating little problem instead.

I thought about this after coming across Normal Headlines (https://normalheadlines.jamesreeves.co/?ref=jamesreeves.co). The idea is wonderfully small. Its creator became frustrated with the increasingly clickbait-like headlines used by The New York Times. The reporting itself might still be perfectly good, but the headline sometimes seems deliberately constructed to conceal the most important piece of information.

You know the format. Something like: This Will Ruin the US Auto Industry. Which tells me almost nothing. Normal Headlines replaces headlines like that with something much more informative. Something closer to: The US Auto Industry Can’t Compete With China’s Automakers on Innovation.

Now I know what the story is really about.

That is not a revolutionary new media company. It isn’t a new social network for journalists. There is no enormous newsroom behind it. It is basically one person saying: this thing annoys me, so I built something that fixes it. I love that approach.

Yes, you might lose a click or two

Of course there is a reason media companies write curiosity-driven headlines. Clicks. If the headline already tells you what happened, perhaps fewer people will click through to the article. That may very well be true.

But I increasingly wonder whether media organisations are measuring the wrong thing. Suppose a vague headline generates a few percent more clicks. Wonderful. Now ask another question. How many readers eventually become so irritated by this constant manipulation that they stop visiting altogether? And more importantly: how many paying readers conclude that a publication apparently no longer respects their time? Those numbers are much harder to put into a dashboard. But they matter. A serious newspaper or whatever news outlet should not have to trick me into reading serious journalism. Simply tell me what happened. If the story is interesting, I will read it.

Journalism has a product problem

This brings me back to those journalism students. I sometimes worry about how little product thinking there seems to be around journalism. A surprisingly large number of students I meet want to become sports journalists or fashion journalists. There is absolutely nothing wrong with either profession. But look around. Climate change. Defence. Artificial intelligence. Industrial policy. Cybersecurity. Energy. Space. Supply chains. European technology. China. Digital sovereignty. Healthcare. Democracy itself.

There is an extraordinary amount happening in the world that desperately needs journalists who understand difficult subjects and can invent new ways of explaining them. And we don’t just need new stories. We need new journalistic products. New formats. New interfaces. New ways of finding information. Small tools. Databases. Newsletters. Visualisations. Archives. Filters. Browser extensions. Things you and I haven’t even thought of yet. And yes, maybe even something as tiny as replacing an annoying headline with a better one.

Journalism cannot afford to become lazy

Western democracy is under considerable pressure. That makes journalism more important, not less. But repeatedly saying that journalism is important is not enough. Journalism also has to earn people’s attention. That requires good reporting, obviously. But it also requires curiosity about technology, willingness to experiment and an understanding that the way people consume information keeps changing.

Journalists expect their readers to keep up with the world. Journalism has to keep up with its readers as well. That is why I would love to see journalism schools treat these student projects differently. Don’t just ask: what new thing can you invent this semester?

Ask: What problem can you solve? What previous idea can you improve? What can you actually build? What can the next group build on top of it?

And perhaps most importantly: Can we make something that still exists after you have received your grade? Because after sitting through five or six years of student Dragon’s Dens, I have seen plenty of ideas. What I would really like to see now is one of them survive and flourish.

Printed Link Rot: The Internet Problem That Escaped the Internet

A few days ago I came across an article about a rather unusual book. It is a big yellow book full of websites. A kind of printed directory of the internet. The author describes it as an “Internet Phone Book” — a physical snapshot of a digital world that changes every second. They are working on version 2 now as well. (https://internetphonebook.net/).

A book full of website links? I have to admit: I like the idea. But I am not entirely sure why. Maybe it is the same reason I still like vinyl records, printed books and old computer magazines. There is something satisfying about information that exists as a physical object. Something you can put on a shelf, pick up years later and browse without needing an account, an app or a subscription.

But then I read a term that surprised me: printed link rot. I had never heard that expression before. And it immediately connected with something I wrote about recently: digital link rot (https://justme.website/content-creation/the-web-has-a-memory-problem/). In other words: the slow decay of the web. Websites disappear. Companies shut down. Platforms change their rules. Domains expire. Articles move. The links that once connected the internet together slowly stop working.

In that previous post, I looked at some strategies to reduce the problem. Using permanent URLs. Keeping your own archives. Avoiding unnecessary dependence on platforms that may disappear. But printed link rot? That is a completely different challenge.

A printed book full of website addresses is already frozen the moment it is published. The links do not change inside the book, but the internet behind those links does. A website that works today may lead to nothing five years from now. And unlike a digital page, you cannot simply update a printed book with a new URL. That makes printed link rot a strangely sad idea. A book that tries to preserve the internet could eventually become a record of things that no longer exist.

But maybe that is also part of the charm. After all, old books, magazines and newspapers are full of references to companies, people and places that disappeared long ago. We accept that as part of – well – history. Maybe an internet book will work the same way. Not only as a practical guide, but as a time capsule.

Still, I wonder: How do we prevent printed link rot? Can we create better ways to connect physical publications with a changing digital world? Should books like this include archives, QR codes, alternative references or some kind of long-term preservation system? I don’t have the answer. But maybe that is exactly why this idea is interesting. The internet was built to connect information forever. Yet keeping those connections alive turns out to be much harder than we expected.

Perhaps the real question is not only how we preserve websites. It is also how we preserve the paths that lead to them.

The Blogging Challenges Continue

When I wrote about Blaugust a few weeks ago (https://justme.website/uncategorized/youre-not-just-publishing-posts-youre-building-a-habit-for-your-readers/), I thought I had discovered one of those wonderfully strange corners of the internet that still exist outside the big platforms. A place where people simply decide: let’s write more. No algorithm. No engagement hacks. No content calendar created by an AI marketing tool. Just people with their own websites, sharing ideas, stories and experiments.

Blaugust turned out to be exactly that. A yearly blogging challenge where participants try to publish throughout August, sometimes every day, sometimes with a more relaxed goal. It has become a small festival of personal publishing, especially popular in IndieWeb circles.

But apparently I was too quick to think that August was the end of the story. Because September has its own collection of writing challenges. The internet is full of people who refuse to stop writing.

SeptemBest: a September for better blogging

One of the challenges that caught my attention is SeptemBest (https://robertbirming.com/septembest-blog-challenge/). The idea is simple: use September as a month to publish your best work. It is less about producing something every single day and more about creating, sharing and discovering interesting blog posts. Some participants use it as a continuation of the energy they built up during Blaugust. Writing challenges are often described as productivity exercises. A way to force yourself to create more. But I think the better description is: they create momentum.

Publish something every day during Blogtober

And if September isn’t enough, there is always October. I discovered Blogtober (https://tantek.com/2025/303/t1/october-blogging-challenges), which is wonderfully straightforward: publish something on your blog every day in October. Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts. There is no big organisation behind it and no complicated set of rules. It is simply another of those traditions that has emerged among bloggers who apparently need very little encouragement to make writing unnecessarily difficult for themselves.

I like this idea because it reflects something that has always been special about blogs. A blog post is not just a piece of content. It is a conversation (sorry, that word sounds a bit too Big Tech-like…). The big platforms tried to turn publishing into a competition for attention. IndieWeb-style projects often go in the opposite direction. They encourage curiosity, personal perspectives and connections between independent websites. The result is slower. But maybe also more interesting.

Kinky Scribble: embracing imperfect writing

There are also more unusual challenges. The Kinky Scribble Challenge (https://ellelargesse.com/2026/08/30/sks/) for example, focuses on writing quickly and publishing with minimal editing. The idea is closer to a small, quick & dirty brain dump than writing a highly polished essay. Write something, share it, and move on. That might sound strange in a world where everyone is encouraged to polish everything endlessly. But there is something valuable about unfinished, imperfect work. Many interesting blogs started because someone simply wrote down an idea before it was completely formed. Sometimes the first version is where the interesting thinking happens.

Maybe Pink Floyd Were Kinky Scribblers Too

The Kinky Scribble Challenge also made me think of something completely different: Pink Floyd. A new live album has just been released, Live from the Los Angeles Sports Arena, April 26th, 1975. And what makes this recording particularly interesting is that Pink Floyd were playing songs that, in a way, weren’t finished yet.

The band was between The Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here. The former had been released two years earlier and had turned Pink Floyd into one of the biggest bands in the world. Wish You Were Here, however, wouldn’t appear until September 1975, so six months later. That didn’t stop them from playing much of it in Los Angeles in April.

Even more remarkable: they also played early versions of material that would eventually end up on Animals. That album wouldn’t be released until January 1977, almost two years later. In other words, the audience wasn’t simply listening to Pink Floyd performing its catalogue. They were listening to the band working on its future catalogue.

And that is where I see the connection with Kinky Scribble. The idea behind Kinky Scribble is to stop treating publishing as the final stage of a perfectly polished piece of work. Write something. Don’t spend forever editing it. Put it out there. See what happens. Continue working. Pink Floyd did something surprisingly similar on stage. Songs weren’t necessarily written, recorded, polished and then performed. Some developed while the band was playing them. Early versions were often a very rough work-in-progress. They changed, grew and were gradually polished until they became the versions we now know from albums like Wish You Were Here and Animals.

I like that idea. We have become accustomed to thinking that publishing means something is finished. A blog post should be polished before you press Publish. An album should be finished before anyone hears the songs. But perhaps publishing can also be part of the creative process. Write it. Play it. Put it in front of people. And then keep working on it.

Somehow it also reminds me of the Building in Public trend. But that is for another time.

The return of the personal web

What I find fascinating about these challenges is not the challenges themselves. It is what they say about the state of the web. For years we were told that blogging was disappearing. Social media would replace personal websites. Newsletters would replace blogs. Video would replace text.

And yet here we are. People are still building small websites. They are still writing about technology, books, music, games, politics, everyday life and completely random observations. Why? Maybe it is because a personal website offers something that platforms cannot provide: A place that feels like your own.

Maybe Screenshots Are the Simplest Personal Knowledge Management Tool We Already Have

Via my recent post, I Went Looking at a Conference About Screenshots (About What?) and Found a Filesystem for Browser Tabs (see here: https://justme.website/content-creation/i-went-looking-at-a-conference-about-screenshots-about-what-and-found-a-filesystem-for-browser-tabs/), I seem to have stumbled into a new world. Or perhaps I should say that I have returned to an old one. Plain text files, bitmap images and other simple file formats have been around for as long as I can remember. They are boring in the best possible way: simple, understandable and usually not tied to a particular service or vendor. But after years of apps, platforms, cloud services and increasingly complicated workflows, I had more or less stopped thinking about them.

Then I discovered Screenshot Conf. And that made me look at screenshots differently.

A screenshot isn’t necessarily just an illustration

I take screenshots all the time. But I mostly use them as illustrations. Something interesting happens on my screen, I capture it, crop it and use it somewhere. That is about it. But screenshots can obviously be much more than that. They can be artistic objects. They can become part of collages. They can document software, interfaces and moments in digital history.

Even more interesting to me, however, is the idea of the screenshot as a knowledge object. You can capture part of a technical report. A diagram. A complicated mathematical formula. A paragraph from a website. A table from a PDF. A particular state of an application. Or simply something you don’t yet know what to do with, but suspect might become useful later.

The screenshot preserves exactly what you saw. The problem is that ordinary screenshots are fairly dumb. There may be a beautifully readable paragraph inside a PNG file, but as far as the filesystem is concerned, it is still just an image.

Making screenshots less dumb

This is where things become more interesting. Omar Rizwan, one of the people behind Screenshot Conf (https://screenshot.arquipelago.org/) and also the creator of TabFS (https://omar.website/tabfs/), made a tool called Screenotate for macOS and Windows (https://screenotate.com/). Screenotate doesn’t merely save the image. It uses OCR to recognise the text inside the screenshot and can also store information such as the window title, URL and time of capture. The result is searchable. Rizwan designed it so that screenshots remain on your own computer, with each capture stored as a self-contained HTML file.

That changes the nature of a screenshot quite dramatically. Imagine capturing one interesting equation from a 120-page research report. Normally you would later have to remember which report was that again? With a tool that also stores the source and recognises the text, the screenshot becomes part of a searchable personal archive.

That started me looking for other tools that do similar things. And there are quite a few.

Linux: Flameshot, NormCap and metadata

On Linux, Flameshot (https://flameshot.org/) is probably one of the better-known screenshot tools. It lets you annotate a screenshot immediately with arrows, text, highlights, shapes, blur and other elements. It also has a command-line interface, which means it can become part of scripts and more elaborate workflows.

Ksnip (https://ksnip.com/) takes a similar approach and combines screenshots with annotation tools.

For OCR, I particularly like the idea behind NormCap (https://dynobo.github.io/normcap/). Instead of capturing an image, you select a piece of the screen and NormCap tries to recognise the information inside it and copies the result as text. It is available for Linux, Windows and macOS and uses Tesseract OCR.

And if you really want to treat screenshots as proper information objects, there is ExifTool (https://exiftool.org/). It can read and write metadata, including XMP metadata in PNG files. That means you could add things such as descriptions, tags or other information to screenshots and potentially automate that process with scripts.

So a Linux workflow could be surprisingly simple: Take the screenshot with Flameshot. Annotate it. Extract useful text with NormCap. Add metadata with ExifTool. Suddenly a PNG is becoming something rather more useful.

Windows has some very good options too

Windows users have PowerToys Text Extractor (https://github.com/microsoft/PowerToys/blob/main/doc/devdocs/modules/textextractor.md), Microsoft’s open-source OCR utility. Press a keyboard shortcut, draw a rectangle around something on screen and the recognised text is copied to your clipboard. It even works on text displayed inside images or videos.

There is also ShareX (https://getsharex.com/), which has developed into much more than a screenshot utility, with capture, editing and workflow features. And, of course, Screenotate itself works on Windows too.

And on the Mac

macOS already does quite a lot with screenshots and text recognition itself, but there are some interesting specialised tools.

Shottr (https)://shottr.cc/, for example, combines screenshots, annotation and OCR. You can select text that normally isn’t selectable, recognise it and copy it directly to the clipboard. It can also combine screenshots, pin them on screen and add annotations.

CleanShot X (https://cleanshot.com/) takes a similarly broad approach. It can extract text from screenshots and open existing screenshots directly in its annotation environment.

Screenshots as a personal knowledge layer

What interests me most is not really which screenshot application has the longest feature list. It is the underlying idea. We usually think about screenshots as disposable images. Take one, send it to someone, use it in a blog post and forget about it.

But what if screenshots become part of a personal knowledge system? You could capture an important paragraph without copying an entire document. Save a formula exactly as it was typeset. Preserve a table together with its source URL. Add keywords. Extract the text. Annotate why you thought it was interesting. Search everything later.

When I was still using an iPhone, I deliberately set the system language to English. One of the reasons was Apple Notes. Set to English, it gave me access to OCR features that were surprisingly useful for collecting information. I could be reading a magazine, come across a paragraph or even a complete article that I wanted to keep, photograph it directly from Notes and have the app turn the image into editable text inside the note. In a way, it was exactly the same idea: capture something visually first, then use OCR to turn the interesting part back into text that you can search, store and work with later.

Screenshots are fundamentally just files. That means you are not necessarily dependent on one enormous knowledge-management application to do all this. The screenshot itself can become the basic object. That feels strangely old-fashioned. And perhaps that is exactly why I like it.

I Went Looking at a Conference About Screenshots (About What?) and Found a Filesystem for Browser Tabs

Sometimes you find interesting software because you are looking for it. And sometimes you arrive there through a rather strange series of clicks. TabFS definitely belongs in the second category.

It started with a very short message I saw somewhere about something called Screenshot Conf (https://cristobal.arquipelago.org/writing/screenshot.html). My first reaction was more or less: a conference about screenshots?

Obviously, I had to know more. And yes, Screenshot Conf really was a conference entirely about screenshots. It was organised in New York by Cristóbal Sciutto and Omar Rizwan, with talks about things such as screenshot archives, information storage, image-based computing and the surprisingly important role screenshots play in the way we collect and share information. I will come back to Screenshot Conf in another post, because I have the slightly strange feeling that I have just discovered an entire world I didn’t know existed.

But Screenshot Conf also led me to the website of one of its organisers, Omar Rizwan (https://omar.website/). And that turned out to be another rabbit hole.

Turning browser tabs into files

Rizwan is interested in new computer interfaces and new ways of programming. His website contains a collection of experiments and projects that approach computers in ways that are often very different from the standard application-and-window model we are used to. One of those projects is TabFS (https://omar.website/tabfs/).

The idea is wonderfully strange: TabFS turns the tabs in your web browser into something that looks like an ordinary filesystem on your computer. Every open browser tab becomes a directory. Inside that directory are files representing things such as the URL, the title and the text of the page. Those aren’t simply exported copies. They reflect the current state of the browser tab. So suddenly your browser becomes accessible using all those boring old tools computers have been very good at for decades: files, directories, shell commands, scripts, text editors and file managers.

Your browser becomes scriptable

And that is where it becomes interesting. Suppose you have 40 tabs open while researching something. With TabFS, you can simply list the titles of those tabs as if you were reading files from a directory. You can also save the text of all your open tabs into one file. Or search those files. Or process them with Python. Or write a little shell script that selects certain tabs. Rizwan gives the example of closing every tab containing “Stack Overflow” in its title. Instead of building a special browser extension, you can essentially delete those tabs as if you were deleting files.

TabFS can go considerably further. It can expose images, JavaScript and other resources loaded by a page as actual files. You can evaluate JavaScript on a page through the filesystem, monitor values on a page and use scripts on your computer to interact with what is happening inside the browser.

It is experimental software, and some of the ideas Rizwan describes are explicitly still TODOs. But that almost makes it more interesting.

Browsing as information gathering

What particularly interests me is what this could mean for people who spend much of their day collecting information. That is basically what I do continuously. I open articles, reports, company websites, research papers, videos and all sorts of other sources. Some are immediately useful. Others might become useful several days or months later.

The browser is very good at finding and displaying all that information. It is much less good at turning it into something you can systematically work with afterwards. Bookmarks help, of course. So do read-later services and knowledge management tools. But they usually introduce yet another application and yet another database.

TabFS approaches the problem from an entirely different direction. It says: what if the browser simply became part of the filesystem?

Then you could write a script that periodically stores the text and URLs of your research tabs. You could sort them into project directories. You could use command-line tools to search through them. You could feed selected material into another processing workflow. You could create an archive containing the source URL, page title and extracted text. And because we are dealing with ordinary files, you could potentially combine this with almost anything else that understands files. That includes tools which haven’t even been designed to work with browsers.

I like this kind of software

TabFS probably isn’t something most computer users are going to install tomorrow. Its current setup requires a browser extension and a filesystem component, and Rizwan describes Chrome support as the main target, with more limited Firefox and Safari support. It currently runs on macOS and Linux.

But that isn’t really the point for me. What I like about projects like TabFS is that they question assumptions that have become so normal that we rarely notice them anymore. Why should information inside a browser be trapped inside a browser? Why shouldn’t my existing tools be able to access it? And why do we keep building separate applications for managing information when operating systems already have a perfectly good universal abstraction for storing and manipulating things?

I really like unpredictable journeys like that. I started out wondering why anyone would organise a conference about screenshots. A few clicks later, I found myself thinking about browsers as filesystems. Not a bad rabbit hole to fall into.

The Web Has a Memory Problem

I recently came across a post on Ctrl+Shift+3 from someone who had found an old backup of their del.icio.us bookmarks (https://ctrlshift3.com/post/cQHW0GSYNypR). The conclusion was concise and predictable: roughly 75 percent broken links and 80 percent obsolete technology. It made me sigh, because it reminded me of something I’ve been thinking about for quite a while: link rot.

Link rot is simply what happens when links that once worked stop taking you to the information they originally pointed to. A website disappears, an article is removed, a company changes its CMS, pages get reorganised or an entire domain simply vanishes. The result is the familiar 404 page, a redirect to somewhere irrelevant, or sometimes a completely different page at the same address.

And it happens a lot. A recent 20-year study of almost 2900 web citations found that accessibility dropped from 87 percent for citations less than five years old to only 38 percent for those more than ten years old. You can find the study here: https://www.sciencedirect.com/org/science/article/pii/S2050380626000220. That is quite a problem for something we tend to regard as permanent.

Why I don’t use URL shorteners

Link rot is also one reason why I prefer using the actual URL when I link to another website instead of putting a URL-shortening service in between. There is a very practical advantage: you can immediately see where you are going. A link beginning with w3.org, github.com or the website of a newspaper tells me considerably more than an address such as bit.ly/3Xf92Kd.

But there is another reason. A URL shortener adds an extra dependency. Instead of:

my website → source

you get:

my website → shortening service → source

That shortening service now controls all those redirects. If it disappears, changes the way it works, gets acquired, loses data or simply decides to discontinue the service, a potentially enormous collection of links can stop working overnight. It seems “slightly” strange to me to deliberately introduce another possible point of failure into something that is already rather fragile.

Of course, using the original URL doesn’t solve link rot either. If the original page disappears, the link still breaks. But at least there is one less organisation involved in keeping the link alive.

Keeping your own URLs boring

The Unattributed article “Digital Legacy: Link Rot Mitigation Issues” (https://unattributed.cc/2026/08/23/digital-legacy-link-rot-mitigation/) approaches the problem from the perspective of preserving a website over a long period. That is an interesting way of looking at it, because preventing link rot isn’t only about the sites we link to. It is also about the links other people create to us.

One of the most useful principles is actually very boring: don’t unnecessarily change URLs. If an article lives at a particular URL today, keeping it there for the next ten or twenty years is probably one of the best things you can do. The US Library of Congress makes the same recommendation: maintain stable URLs and, when a URL really has to change, redirect the old address to the new one. (https://www.loc.gov/programs/web-archiving/for-site-owners/creating-preservable-websites/)

That sounds obvious, but website redesigns have a remarkable ability to destroy perfectly good URL structures. A new CMS gets installed, /blog/interesting-article.html suddenly becomes /posts/2026/interesting-article, nobody bothers to create redirects, and thousands of old bookmarks and incoming links instantly become useless overnight.

Archive what matters

Another important defence against link rot is archiving. If I refer to something that is particularly important to an article, I can save the page in the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine (https://web.archive.org/) or use a service such as Perma.cc (https://perma.cc/). That gives readers another route to the information if the original disappears.

This is especially useful for pages that are likely to change while keeping the same URL. Think of government policy pages, documentation, company announcements or so-called living documents. In those cases you can have something slightly different from link rot: content drift. The URL still works, but the information behind it is no longer what you originally referred to.

For sources like these, preservation guidance increasingly recommends keeping both the live URL and an archived snapshot. Have a look here for an interesting article about this topic: https://casrai.org/guides/link-rot-in-citations-and-how-to-prevent-it

For academic papers, reports and datasets, there is another option: use a persistent identifier such as a DOI whenever one exists (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persistent_identifier). The entire idea behind these identifiers is that the identifier remains the same even when the actual location of the document changes.

Give readers enough information to recover a link

There is also a wonderfully low-tech solution: don’t make the URL the only information you provide. When referring to an interesting article, mention its title, author and website. If the link dies in five years, someone can still search for it. If all I write is “read this” behind a hyperlink, the reader has almost nothing to work with once that link disappears.

The same applies to my own bookmarks. Saving only a URL isn’t particularly useful if that URL later breaks. A title, short note and perhaps publication date make the bookmark much more valuable as a record of what was actually there. Perhaps that old del.icio.us backup illustrates this perfectly. A dead URL on its own is almost meaningless. A dead URL combined with a title and description can still tell you what you once found interesting.

Check your old links

There is one final, rather mundane solution: occasionally check links. There are plenty of tools that can crawl a website and report broken external and internal links. Examples are LinkChecker (https://github.com/linkchecker/linkchecker) or Broken Link Checker (https://github.com/stevenvachon/broken-link-checker). For a small personal website you could run such a check every now and then and repair the links that matter. Sometimes the article simply moved. Sometimes there is an archived version. Sometimes another reliable source covers the same information.

But I wouldn’t turn this into an endless maintenance project either. Because ultimately link rot cannot be solved completely. Someone else’s website can disappear tomorrow. A company can close. A domain registration can expire. An organisation can deliberately remove twenty years of old material. Even archives cannot preserve everything, particularly today’s highly dynamic websites.

Perhaps the goal therefore shouldn’t be to create a Web in which no link ever dies. It should be to make links less disposable. Use stable URLs. Avoid unnecessary intermediaries. Redirect old pages when you move them. Archive important sources. Use persistent identifiers when they exist. And leave enough context around a link so somebody has a chance of finding the information again. Because the Web may look permanent when we use it every day. That old del.icio.us backup suggests otherwise.

AI and Art: Maybe the Interesting Part Is Somewhere in the Middle

Every now and then I watch a presentation about AI that actually adds something to the discussion. Jack Conte’s recent talk at SXSW is definitely one of those. Conte is not only the CEO and co-founder of Patreon, but also a musician and filmmaker himself, which probably explains why his presentation feels so personal. And passionate. Very passionate.

His SXSW session took place in Austin in March 2026, and the video has since been published as The future of creativity on the internet in a world with AI. Conte clearly struggles with AI himself. He is excited about what the technology could make possible, but at the same time angry about what is happening to artists and their work. That conflict is exactly what makes his presentation so interesting.

We have been here before

Conte spends quite a bit of time looking back at previous technological changes. Film initially copied theatre. Recorded music disrupted musicians playing live in cinemas. Synthesizers created fears that orchestras and musicians would become unnecessary. New technology repeatedly destroys existing business models, after which artists start figuring out what they can do with the new technology that simply wasn’t possible before.

He believes generative AI is currently going through a similar phase. Much of what we now see is what he describes as AI “slop”: technology being used mainly to imitate things we already know. Generate another picture. Another song. Another video. Another piece of text. Faster, cheaper and in almost unlimited quantities.

I think that distinction is important.

The debate about AI and creativity has become incredibly black and white. On one side are people who want nothing to do with AI-generated music, images or text because a human didn’t make it in the traditional sense. On the other side are people who seem determined to use AI for virtually everything.

I don’t find either position particularly useful.

Making more isn’t necessarily creating more

I use AI myself, including when writing. So obviously I don’t believe that using AI automatically makes something worthless. But there is a big difference between using AI as a creative tool and simply switching on some sort of content machine that produces hundreds of songs, articles or images because you hope to make money from the volume.

That doesn’t particularly interest me. What does interest me is someone taking these new tools and trying to do something genuinely new with them.

This is also where Conte makes an interesting point about creativity. Today’s AI models have learned from enormous amounts of existing human work. They are extraordinarily good at recognising patterns and recombining what already exists. That can produce impressive results, but it is fundamentally different from a human artist deliberately taking a creative risk, developing an unusual idea or deciding to make something nobody asked for.

Conte puts a lot of emphasis on precisely that human element. Art, in his view, is connected to difficulty, scarcity, risk and the person behind the work. We don’t just listen to music because certain sounds have been arranged correctly. We are also interested in the person who made it and what that person was trying to express.

Use AI to make your ideas possible

That is a much more useful way to look at AI and creativity. Don’t ask AI to come up with as much stuff as possible. Come up with ideas yourself and see whether AI can help you realise ideas that previously would have been too difficult, expensive or perhaps even impossible.

That applies to music, photography and video, but just as much to writing. AI can help me research, experiment, restructure, translate, challenge an argument or try a completely different approach. But there still has to be an idea. A reason for creating something.

That is why I like the double feeling in Conte’s presentation so much. He doesn’t pretend everything about AI is wonderful. Far from it. He is highly critical of how creators have been treated, including the use of their work for AI training without permission, attribution or compensation. At the same time, he refuses to conclude that the technology itself can therefore bring nothing worthwhile to art.

That middle ground is where this discussion becomes much more interesting to me. AI can produce more. Much, much more. But producing more isn’t the same thing as having a new idea. And perhaps the artists, musicians and writers who understand that difference will eventually do the most interesting things with AI.

Blogging from Your Phone: A Small Idea with Big Practical Value

Writing a blog post usually starts with a familiar setup: a laptop, a comfortable keyboard, a large screen and access to all the tools you need. But what if you could simply write and publish from the device that is almost always in your pocket? The idea of phone blogging may sound simple, but it is actually a fascinating concept.

In his article “Phone Blogging”, Brennan Day explores the idea of using a smartphone as a complete blogging tool. Instead of seeing the phone merely as a device for reading, communicating and consuming content, he looks at it as a possible platform for creating content as well. You can read the original article here: https://brennan.day/phoneblogging/.

The idea immediately caught my attention because it addresses a situation many content creators recognize. Sometimes inspiration arrives when you are away from your desk. You may be travelling, sitting in a café, waiting at an airport or enjoying a holiday. In those moments, you might suddenly think of something that would be useful to add to a website or blog.

I experience this myself. Even during vacations, I sometimes add content to some of my business websites. A new idea comes up, there is a relevant development in the market, or I want to publish a short update while it is still timely. Having the possibility to do this from a phone is attractive because it removes the need to wait until you are back behind a computer.

At the same time, phone blogging is not always easy. The obvious challenge is the screen. Writing longer texts on a small display requires more concentration, and editing paragraphs, checking formatting or moving between different elements of a website can quickly become frustrating. Adding a photo is a challenge as well. A laptop still offers a much more comfortable working environment for serious writing.

Another practical issue is access. When managing several websites, you do not always have all the required credentials available. Password managers help, but sometimes the right login details, security codes or administration access are not immediately at hand. A theoretically simple task — publishing a short article or making an update — can suddenly become much more complicated.

Nevertheless, the idea behind phone blogging is interesting because it changes the way we think about content creation. The smartphone is no longer just a communication device or a window into the digital world. It can also become a lightweight production tool.

Perhaps the future of blogging is not about replacing laptops completely, but about having more flexibility. A phone allows creators to capture ideas at the moment they appear and publish wherever they happen to be. For people who create content regularly, that freedom can be valuable.

Brennan Day’s experiment with phone blogging highlights an important point: sometimes the best tool is simply the one you already have with you.