I no longer know where I belong online. I keep making things--I can't stop making things--but the platforms we've all migrated to have finally rotted to the point where the owners are stripping the copper out of the walls. This is not news, but it needs to be said: How else can we help whatever the next thing is come into being until we hold the funeral and grieve for The Way Things Used to Work?

Is it possible to make a space online again for one's own work, to put that work there, to point an audience there? Sure, certainly, of course. Will anyone go? I can't know, but I can try.

It's important to mess with some of my underlying assumptions. For the past 8 years or so, this site was a fancy webcomic Rails app I made by hand, and finally the stack to support it requires so much cleanup work, I've avoided touching it. The fact is, a site for hosting my work doesn't need that much stuff. If I'd made a place of basic HTML, CSS, and the occasional simple line of JavaScript, I'd still be updating and maintaining it easily, instead of giving myself an additional dev job on top of my day dev job.

What if part of resisting the rot of things is to avoid the conveniences that enabled the rot? What did we lose when we gave up some of the friction and cludge of the old ways? What if making something simple and solid would give it a longevity, a place my strange way of living could persist for a while longer?