They say it’s getting harder to out-write the LLMs. 

Let’s try.

I think aquariums are meant to be calming. The audible water and the nervous yet graceful movement of small fish seem to say, "All will be okay, even if you are feeling itchy."

A well-kept aquarium indicates a surplus of fastidiousness, much like the male peacock's absurd plumage indicates a surplus of calories. If chaos reined, we wouldn't have time to maintain pristine miniature water-worlds, and the peacock wouldn't be so weighed down.

This particular aquarium was immaculate and decorated in a classical chic aesthetic. Bright orange fish swam amidst Doric columns that rose from the blue-pebbled floor. Some columns had broken and collapsed, or rather the grand human-scale versions to which they pay homage have collapsed, and underwater ruins are romantic. A lazing Neptune completed the tableau. Recumbent if not resplendent (his entire body a stone gray), he reclined with one hand gripping his trident and a carved drape tastefully covering his private area (of the seven seas).

I was already starting to feel less itchy.

One orange fish was apart, nestled in the crook of Neptune's hip. My diagnosis is that he was unwell. Unmoved, the sea god stared a thousand leagues into the distance.

His (or rather, I don't know the sex and some fish actually change their sex or exist in a kind of middle ground sometimes, but I'm a male, so gendering the fish as a male makes it easier for me to relate to him / it) schoolmates alternately hovered and zipped above, but even beating his fins with maximum effort, he could not rise.

He did not look old, though I confess I don't know how to tell the age of fish by visual inspection, nor by any other method. Could there have been some puzzlement in his furrowed brow and his pursed fish lips? Do fish have brows to furrow? I know they have lips. 'How could this happen?', he seemed to wonder, that one day he was a member in good standing of the school, and the next day he couldn't even see them, so far were they above his immovable eyes.

I was writing this down when a nurse called me back to the examination room.

As a child, I was allergic to grass, which seemed a cruel allergy for a child to have, even after I learned that some classmates were deathly allergic to peanuts or couldn't drink milk. I drank a lot of milk. Still do.

The allergy manifested in an itchiness so persistent that I was sometimes sent to bed with sock mittens over my hands to prevent nighttime clawing. Puberty came (late) and carried away the allergy forever. Or so I allowed myself to believe.

Back in the present day and the exam room, I donned the provided open-backed gown and awaited inspection. The dermatology resident, who knocked and .25 seconds later was in the room, looked me over and prescribed the customary ointments. After relaying her medical opinion, she walked over to the sink, turned it on, and held her entire forearm under the water.

"When you dry yourself off," she said, demonstrating with a paper towel, "don't rub your skin with the towel. Just gently dab at the water — see how I'm doing?"

I nodded. Satisfied that I’d grasped the “dab” technique, she dried her still-wet arm using the “rub” technique.

"And you don't need to soap your entire body. Just the parts that get dirty. Your face, your armpits, your underwear area."

"Really?" I exclaimed. I really did exclaim.

"Yep, the rest gets clean just from being in the shower."

I changed back into my clothes and left in a daze. The orange fish had gotten me thinking, but the dermatology resident had altered the course of my (bathing) life.

In short: this past month, I learned how to wash myself. I am 33 and three-quarters years old.

Things of the Month

The categories change, but the strict standards remain the same.

AI Tool of the Month

Fondu - I’ve always been a big fan of dairy, so I love the name.

One of my former Salesforce colleagues has started… you’ll never believe this… an AI company! This one stands out from the growing pack for two reasons:
1) A commitment to users owning their own data
2) A “knowledge vault” (or context layer) that gets smarter as you chat with it

Probably the easiest way that LLM users can improve model outputs is by providing more relevant context, and Fondu makes pulling in context easier than any tool I’ve used. It’s become my first port of call for AI tasks, which do not include writing this newsletter.

Quote of the Month

Long one, but worth it. An opportunity for a mindful moment, whichever sort of weather you’re experiencing today.

From Karl Ove Knausgård:

Book of the Month

Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

“Lonesome Dove” was published in 1985 and won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction the following year, so I’m not unearthing a hidden gem. Which is not to say that winning the Pulitzer means a book will always be top of mind. Sometimes, one needs a series of nudges in order to read a particular novel.

A few years ago, I read a book called Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino. Five stars. The book blew my mind and I recommended it to many people, very few of whom liked it. That is another story, but I mention it because that was how I became aware of Ms. Tolentino. Some years later, she read Lonesome Dove and wrote of it (in The New Yorker) the following:

“I gasped and sobbed and clutched the book when it was over. I was so thankful for the reminder that reading can still be like this, that the realm of the unread always holds, somewhere, the exact thing I’m looking for, whatever it is.”

Wow. But that still wasn’t enough for me.

My partner (in thoughtcrime) read the book in 2024 and told me that I really must read it. I’m now reading the book in 2025, when, if the right person had just told me about the character development and Western action, I would have read it in 2005, when I was (and you’d know if you were keeping track) 14 years old.

Reader beware: it has 960 pages and at least that many characters.

Imagining of the Month

Song of the Month

Overdrive, by Thomas Rhett

From the chorus:

Trying to do the limit,
but my heart doing way more than 65

I mean…

No one has wished me a Happy New Year so far this month, and I’m not optimistic for the remaining days.

Until April,
Ethan