The Short Version

AI plant health diagnosis is having a moment – grow cameras with “AI” on the box, phone apps that name a deficiency from one photo, controllers that promise to read your plants for you. Most of them report a confidence number they haven't earned, because the hard part of AI plant diagnosis isn't producing an answer. It's knowing when the answer is wrong, and proving the accuracy you claim on photos the model has never seen. June at PlantLab was a research-and-hardening month spent almost entirely on that second problem: catching my own model being wrong before a grower could. This is what that looks like from the inside, with the numbers.

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Most of the month, I tried to prove myself wrong

There's a failure pattern in applied machine learning that's easy to fall into and embarrassing to admit: you measure your model against data it has secretly already seen, get a great number, and ship a worse product than your benchmark says you have. The honest version of this work is mostly the unglamorous job of making sure that can't happen – and then re-checking, because it usually has happened somewhere you didn't look.

So June was light on shipped features and heavy on measurement. Three of the month's most useful outcomes were negative – things I built, validated, and then deliberately threw away because the evidence said they didn't help. That's not wasted time. A NO-GO you can trust is worth more than a feature you can't.

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The accuracy number that was lying to me

The biggest single finding of the month: my internal accuracy was inflated by roughly 14 percentage points, and the cause was data leakage.

Here's what that means in plain terms. To know how good a diagnosis model is, you test it on photos it didn't learn from. If even a slice of your test photos overlap with your training photos, the model isn't being asked to diagnose – it's being asked to remember, and it scores far higher than it will in the real world. When I audited my evaluation set carefully, about 85% of one classifier stage's test images turned out to share lineage with its training data. The accuracy that overlap was buying us was about 14 points of pure illusion.

The fix was tedious and worth every hour. I rebuilt a clean evaluation set – over 20,000 plant images, locked and checksum-pinned so it can't drift – with the training lineage of every image traced and excluded. Then I made “score only against the locked, leakage-free set” a mandatory gate that every model has to pass before it can deploy. No new version ships on a number I can't defend.

On that honest, leakage-free set, overall diagnostic accuracy sits at 94.6%, up from 93.5% at the start of the month. That second number matters more than the first: it's measured on data the model has never touched, and it went up during a month where I was actively trying to deflate my own claims. Two of the pipeline's stages remain the weak links and are the explicit target of the next training round – I publish the strong numbers below and keep the weak ones honest rather than hiding them.

For context, the two stages I'm confident citing, measured the same leakage-aware way:

What it decides	Balanced accuracy	Notes
Is this a cannabis plant at all?	99.96%	Gate before any diagnosis runs
Is the plant healthy or showing a problem?	98.4%	The screen most automations act on
Inference speed (full pipeline)	18 ms	On GPU, per photo

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Three things I built, validated, and killed

A diagnosis pipeline gets safer when it knows when to stop and ask for help. So I tried to add three “brakes” – rules that would catch a likely-wrong answer and downgrade it to “not sure” instead of stating it confidently. Building them was the easy part. Testing whether they actually helped is where most of the value was.

• The reliability brake shipped. It watches a separate trustworthiness signal and, on the photos where the detailed classifier is most likely to be wrong, hands back a hedge instead of a false certainty. It catches roughly half of the cases that would otherwise have produced a confident wrong answer with no warning. This one earned its place.
• Two other brakes did not. A “health gate” and a second-stage abstention rule both looked promising on paper. Both got built, both got tested against the locked set, and both came back NO-GO: the classifiers they were meant to second-guess are confident enough that a threshold catches almost nothing real while occasionally suppressing correct answers. I removed them.

There was also a retraction. Earlier in the quarter I'd said nutrient problems were my single biggest error source, and that a “nutrient brake” had validated as a win. Re-measuring with the nutrient specialist properly loaded into the test harness overturned both claims. The earlier result had been reading the wrong confidence signal – a bug in the test setup, not a real weakness in the model. Once it was fixed, accuracy went up, nutrient-specific errors dropped by about 55%, and my biggest remaining weak spot turned out to be somewhere else entirely. Walking back a number you've already said out loud isn't comfortable. But a diagnosis company that won't retract its own bad measurement has no business asking growers to trust its good ones.

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Why one photo often isn't enough

A lot of plant problems look alike. That's not a model limitation – it's a property of the plant. Different root causes converge on the same visible leaf symptom, which means a single RGB photo sometimes physically does not contain enough information to separate them.

The clearest example is watering. Both overwatering and underwatering can produce yellowing that looks exactly like nitrogen deficiency. Overwatering starves the roots of oxygen, which impairs their ability to take up nutrients; underwatering cuts off the soil-water flow that carries nitrate to the roots in the first place. In both cases the leaf says “nitrogen,” while the real fix is the watering can. The same trap shows up across the deficiency map:

Looks like	Could actually be	What separates them
Nitrogen deficiency (yellowing lower leaves)	Overwatering or underwatering	Root-zone moisture, not the leaf
Magnesium deficiency	Calcium deficiency	Old/lower leaves (Mg) vs distorted new growth (Ca)
A true deficiency	pH lockout (nutrient present but unavailable)	A pH and EC test, not a photo
Nutrient burn	Light burn	Pattern and location under the lamp

An honest plant diagnosis tool has to respect this. It's why PlantLab returns a separate reliability signal for exactly the ambiguous cases, and why I tell integrators to gate automation on that signal rather than on raw confidence (I wrote that up in detail in Confidence Is Not Reliability).

It's also why I started a new line of work in June on counting and separating plants. I kept seeing photos with more than one plant in frame, and a diagnosis model handed two plants at once can't give either a clean answer. The first version of that work counts the right number of plants about 70% of the time and lands within one almost 90% of the time, fast enough to run on a CPU – early, but it's the prerequisite for diagnosing the messy real-world shots people actually take, not just the tidy single-plant ones.

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The unglamorous half: infrastructure and security

Two larger efforts wrapped up in June that don't change a single diagnosis but matter for anyone trusting the service.

I finished moving PlantLab entirely onto European infrastructure and tore down the last of the old US cloud. A plant photo is sensitive – it reveals that someone grows, and at scale, how much – so the data path now runs through providers I chose for sovereignty rather than convenience: compute in Germany, CDN in Slovenia, database and email in France. The full reasoning is in Why PlantLab Runs in Europe. I also built and tested a one-command disaster-recovery rebuild against a live clone, so a lost server is a known, rehearsed recovery rather than a panic.

On security, the runtime container moved to a distroless image, dropping its count of known high-and-critical vulnerabilities from ten to zero, alongside a broader hardening pass – secret rotation, host firewalling, supply-chain scanning, and request-path fixes. None of it is visible in a diagnosis response, which is rather the point.

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What I saw at Mary Jane Berlin

I spent the first weekend of June at Mary Jane Berlin, mostly talking with grow-hardware vendors. The headline impression: the industry has decided AI is the next feature, and the race is on. Multiple vendors had AI grow cameras on display, several of them announced that week. The appetite is real and growing.

What's missing is the rigor. Across the floor, the AI accuracy figures were vendor-stated and unaudited, the disclosure of how any of it actually works was thin, and the recurring complaint I hear from growers who've tried the general-purpose-AI route is the same one every time: it answers with total confidence, it's frequently wrong, and it gives you nothing to tell the difference. There is clear demand for “AI something” in cultivation. There is very little supply of AI that's specifically built for the plant, honest about what it can't see, and willing to publish a number it didn't cherry-pick.

That gap is the entire reason PlantLab exists, and Berlin made it concrete. Interest in a rigorous, cannabis-specific diagnosis service was easy to find. Several people I spoke with signed up to try it on the spot.

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Where this leaves PlantLab

A month of trying to prove myself wrong left the product in a better place than a month of shipping features would have. I caught a 14-point measurement illusion, killed two things that didn't work, retracted a claim that didn't hold, and came out the other side with accuracy that's higher and honest – 99.96% on whether a photo is even cannabis, 98.4% on healthy-versus-problem, 94.6% end-to-end, all measured on photos the model has never seen, all at 18 milliseconds.

That's the bar I think AI plant health diagnosis should clear before it asks a grower to act on it. Most of the tools shipping right now don't, and they don't tell you that. I'd rather show my work.

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PlantLab is free to try at plantlab.ai – three diagnoses a day, results in milliseconds, every diagnosis returns a reliability score so you know when to trust it. API documentation is at plantlab.ai/docs. If you build grow hardware or a cultivation app and want diagnosis that's actually accountable, the API is built to drop into your stack.

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FAQ

How accurate is AI plant health diagnosis, really?

It depends entirely on how the accuracy was measured. A number measured on photos the model also trained on is meaningless – it tests memory, not diagnosis. PlantLab's accuracy is measured on a locked, checksum-pinned test set with all training-related images excluded: 99.96% on whether a photo is cannabis, 98.4% on healthy-versus-problem, and 94.6% end-to-end. Most consumer “AI camera” accuracy figures are vendor-stated and not independently audited.

Can AI diagnose a plant problem from a single photo?

Often, but not always. Different root causes can produce identical-looking leaf symptoms – overwatering, underwatering, and true nitrogen deficiency can all yellow the lower leaves the same way. A responsible tool returns a reliability signal that drops on exactly these ambiguous cases, rather than reporting the same confidence on a clear photo and a hopeless one.

Why do AI grow cameras and plant apps get diagnoses wrong?

The common pattern is wrapping a general-purpose vision model and printing its confidence as if it were an accuracy guarantee. A general model handed a plant photo will produce a confident-looking answer whether or not it has any basis for the call. Tools built specifically for the plant, and calibrated against real outcomes, can instead tell you when they're unsure.

What's the difference between confidence and reliability in a diagnosis?

Confidence is how strongly the model picked an answer. Reliability is whether you should act on that answer, on this specific image. They agree on easy photos and diverge on hard ones – which is the whole reason to track reliability separately for any automation. Full explanation here.

Does overwatering cause nitrogen deficiency?

It can produce nitrogen-deficiency-like symptoms. Overwatering deprives roots of oxygen and impairs nutrient uptake, so the plant shows lower-leaf yellowing even when nitrogen is available. Underwatering can cause the same look by cutting off the water flow that delivers nitrate to the roots. In both cases the cause is the watering, not the nutrient – which is why a leaf photo alone can mislead.

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Related reading: – Confidence Is Not Reliability: Trust Signals for Automated Plant Diagnosis – Why PlantLab Runs in Europe – How PlantLab's AI Diagnoses Cannabis Plant Problems in 18 Milliseconds

Les gens ne semblent pas se rendre compte qu'il y a un nouveau prince dans cette ville même si je ne suis qu'un clochard pour l'instant.

— Dany Laferrière, Chronique d'une dérive douce, p. 55

My other nephew is sick now. So I have been helping take care of him while trying to spend time with my dog. Why does it feel like a whirlwind of events? I never read the books or watched the movie but is something like this the premise of A Series of Unfortunate Events?

I think the emotional overwhelm from this week has finally caught up with me today. I feel super tired, unmotivated, and incredibly sad. I have not been able to do some of the activities I wanted to do with her because my nephew is around.

I don’t know how to keep going like this.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

There are some roads that don’t seem to end.

Fourteen hours to Orange Beach turned into fifteen… then fifteen and a half. Rain. Traffic. Fuel stops. Stiff legs. Aching backs. Coffee that quit working hours ago. Every mile seemed to ask the same question:

“Are you sure you want to keep going?”

And then it hit me.

That’s the Christian life.

This journey to heaven isn’t a Sunday afternoon drive. It’s a marathon across mountains. Sometimes the tank runs dry. Sometimes your soul is weary. Sometimes you have to pull over, stretch your faith, refill your spirit, wipe the rain off the windshield, and keep moving.

But you don’t quit.

Because on the other side of this wilderness is a river.

The Jordan.

Beyond that river lies our Promised Land—not the shadow, but the substance. No more pain. No more tears. No more funerals. No more hospitals. No more cancer. No more graves.

Just Jesus.

Perfect peace.

Perfect rest.

Perfect joy.

That is why every difficult mile is worth it.

Now hear me carefully.

The book of Hebrews gives one of the strongest warnings in all of Scripture. If a person knowingly and finally turns away after fully embracing Christ, Hebrews 6 describes an unimaginably serious condition. That passage should never make us casual about our walk with God. It should make us cling to Christ with all our hearts.

That reality is why I care so deeply about people.

Just today I walked up to a man and shared what I believed God had put on my heart.

I told him,

“God is a God of second chances… and third… and fourth… and fifth. Peter denied Jesus three times, yet Jesus came looking for Peter. He didn’t throw him away. He restored him. Then He said, ‘Feed My sheep.’

“So even if you’ve had one failed ministry after another, there’s one thing God is better at than you…

Reconciliation.

The same Jesus who went after Peter is going after you.”

I gently tapped him on the chest.

He smiled and said,

“That’s funny… people have told me that my whole life.”

But I could tell…

He heard the words.

He hadn’t yet received them.

I walked away thinking,

“Lord… I failed.”

Then the Holy Spirit whispered something I’ll never forget.

“You didn’t fail. I haven’t finished.”

Then it became crystal clear.

The Holy Spirit said He would bring back to that man’s remembrance every prophetic word, every sermon, every conversation, every warning, every invitation, every moment someone had spoken truth into his life.

One after another.

Like arrows stored in a quiver.

Not forgotten.

Waiting.

Then the Lord reminded me of something else.

When I first saw that man, I was comfortable on the balcony.

I almost stayed there.

I thought,

“What if this isn’t really You?”

Finally, I obeyed.

I went downstairs.

He was gone.

I searched another place.

Nothing.

A third place.

There he was.

Then he disappeared again.

It almost felt as though God was making me search—asking one simple question:

“How much do you care?”

At last I found him.

I delivered the message.

The results?

Those belonged to God.

That’s when the Holy Spirit settled the matter forever.

“Conviction is My responsibility. Obedience is yours.”

What freedom there is in those words.

We are not called to change hearts.

We are called to speak truth.

We are not responsible for the harvest.

We are responsible for planting the seed.

We are not the Holy Spirit.

He is.

So tonight I pray for my friend.

I pray those words keep echoing through his soul.

I pray Peter’s story becomes his story.

Because the God who restored a broken fisherman is still walking shorelines today…

Still calling wandering sons…

Still restoring broken servants…

Still saying,

“Follow Me.”

25 June 2026

Ordinal air (working title): this is one of the more rewarding paintings I've made in a while. Inner and outer alignment. Based on some tiny paper Earth lanterns I saw receding into Tyler's room from the staircase at our flat. Delicate duplicate planets hanging in the thick summer air, intermittently nudged and spun by the wind from the fan out of sight at the other end of the room.

Ordinal data is a categorical, statistical data type where the variables have natural, ordered categories and the distances between the categories are not known.

I've been looking at a lot of Bellmer's drawings and prints again this week, specifically his engravings from his Mode d'Emploi (1967) portfolio. There's one particular piece from the seven in that collection—a small one (roughly 4x6 inch plate) titled Ways of Daring—that I think I can trace a lot of the thinking around this work to in retrospect. Its weblike line work masterfully gets at something similar to how I'm trying to establish structures that allow planes to interact beyond their pictorial functionality. Or, more simply, how line can be a simultaneously cohering and fragmenting force. It's also emotionally laid bare yet confounding in the way that I like. In the bottom right there appears to be a baby (or two) engrossed in something. A step up and to the left are two more figures wrapped around and bound to each other like a Christo sketch, possibly in a sexual position (probably; it's Bellmer). Up and to the right from them, almost in the middle of the composition, is a more muddled group of figures, to my eyes an orgiastic heap. Pulling away from them toward the top right corner is an inscrutable knotty cluster, maybe limb-like. And at the top left, almost floating but for one planar line by his knees, is what looks like a kneeling figure with a beaked nose. An upward growth and a deconstruction, phases linked and estranged.

Back to my painting—it occurs to me that a part of it could also be a swipe at the emotional register of time passing in the 5,000 mile space between two opposite poles. Here are some selected lyrics from “Picture of Return” by Superfan:

The time that’s blowing me through Deflated surroundings Putting appearance underneath the skin

Breaking at the corners The room acting as my witness To manipulated order I’m wishing his face was never a picture of return

Sometimes I cannot, for the life of me, understand what spammers are thinking. For that matter, I am not even certain they have more than a single brain cell left. Take this one for example, sending eight messages in a single minute:

Eight spam messages in a single minute

Now, look, I get it. They are really trying to get attention. But really, do they think this message will actually accomplish anything?

I mean seriously, all of these messages just hit my spam filter and got dumped into a folder for me to double-check.

But, if it was just these eight messages I might have forgiven it as a one-off, drive-by spamming. But no, that was just the spam from tonight. They've been at this for two weeks now. Every few days they drop by the site that has that contact form, spam eight messages at me, and move on.

I mean, it would be funny if it weren't so pathetic: there are fifty-six messages from this spammer in my folder. And they've been doing this exact same thing every time: spam eight messages and then move on.

But, they are trying to be a bit strategic… They don't do it every day. It seems they are on some kind of rotation: doing their spamming once every two-three days. Like that is going to make any kind of difference???

Do they really think this going to work? Does it ever work on anyone? I mean, I just have to wonder: where are their brain cells hiding?

There are a total of one hundred and sixty-six messages in my spam folder. They make up fifty-six of them, that is over one third of the spam messages in that folder. Guess it makes the cleanup all that much easier.

<delete>

June 2026

The global pharmaceutical industry continues to place greater emphasis on supply chain resilience, quality management, and reliable sourcing of pharmaceutical raw materials. As pharmaceutical manufacturers expand production capacities and develop new therapies, demand for dependable suppliers of active pharmaceutical ingredients (APIs) and pharmaceutical intermediates remains strong.

Growing Demand for Pharmaceutical Raw Materials

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Industry experts indicate that supply chain reliability has become one of the most important factors when selecting pharmaceutical suppliers.

Expansion of Peptide and Specialty Pharmaceutical Markets

The pharmaceutical market has experienced growing interest in peptide-based products, metabolic therapies, and specialty pharmaceutical compounds. Manufacturers and sourcing companies continue to expand product portfolios to support evolving market requirements.

Demand has increased for:

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These product categories support pharmaceutical research, development, and commercial manufacturing activities.

Quality and Supply Stability Remain Key Priorities

Pharmaceutical companies increasingly evaluate suppliers based on:

• Product quality
• Manufacturing capabilities
• Technical support
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Reliable suppliers help reduce production risks and support continuous manufacturing operations.

China's Role in Pharmaceutical Manufacturing

China remains an important manufacturing center for pharmaceutical APIs, intermediates, peptides, and fine chemicals. Established manufacturing infrastructure, experienced technical teams, and efficient supply chains continue to support global pharmaceutical markets.

International buyers frequently seek manufacturing partners capable of providing both product quality and long-term supply reliability.

Longshine Boitech Supports Global Pharmaceutical Supply

Longshine Boitech supplies pharmaceutical APIs, pharmaceutical intermediates, peptides, veterinary products, and fine chemicals to customers worldwide.

The company provides:

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By supporting pharmaceutical and chemical companies with reliable products and sourcing solutions, Longshine Boitech contributes to the growing demand for high-quality pharmaceutical materials.

Looking Ahead

As pharmaceutical innovation continues to advance, demand for reliable suppliers of APIs, intermediates, peptides, and fine chemicals is expected to remain strong. Companies that combine manufacturing expertise, quality management, and dependable supply chains will continue to play an important role in the global pharmaceutical industry.

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Keywords: pharmaceutical supply chain, pharmaceutical API supplier, pharmaceutical intermediates manufacturer, pharmaceutical raw materials supplier, pharmaceutical manufacturing, Longshine Boitech.

The amazing GAMENOTE keyboard, in all its gamery goriness.

Introduction

So, if you were to ask me why I got into mechanical keyboards, the picture above would be the explanation. This is the Havit “GAMENOTE” keyboard (aka the KB512L). This keyboard is responsible for me spending a little over a year in a mechanical keyboard rabbit hole.

Now, let's be clear: this was not a good keyboard. It had a hollow sound to it. The stabilizers rattled. The keycaps were thin and felt horrible. The RGB was junk. The switches were some off-brand clicky blue switches that pinged and didn't feel all that good to type on. There was no wireless connectivity.

I wrote extensively about this keyboard here: 71-Keys Review: Havit KB512L.

And yet, I could find some good in it. The first thing was: it was cheap: $25-30 USD. Another thing: it had a removable cable. And, above everything else was that layout.

That layout is what drew me in. The moment I was able to reach the Del key without moving my hands from the home row position, I was sold. The fact was, by compacting the TKL layout in this manner, they had come up with a dream layout for touch typists who'd learned to type on a typewriter and were taught to not move our hands, only our fingers.

The Next Keyboard

But there were serious issues with the keyboard, including one issue that wasn't easy to solve: the switches. I managed to take the keyboard apart and fix several issues: I shimmed and lubricated the stabilizers, I added foam to dampen the sound, and I replaced the keycaps with a nice set of PBT caps.

All of this fixed most of my problems with the keyboard. I wasn't concerned with wireless connections. I set the RGB to a solid color or turned it off completely. But, there was the one big issue: the switches.

I could have really put some more effort into it: desoldered the old switches, installed sockets and new stabilizers, and then new switches. But, honestly, that would have been many hours of work and I really hadn't done any soldering for over 20 years. This was a skill set that I wasn't interested in relearning.

So, I started looking at other keyboards. And, I tried a few… A Leopold TKL that was styled like an IBM Model M keyboard, and a Durgod TKL keyboard that was highly recommended. And both of them were much better keyboards, but they suffered from the same issue: the switches. I just didn't care for them, and I didn't want to desolder them to install sockets and new switches.

Then I found a keyboard that changed things for me: a CIY TKL keyboard:

The CIY TKL Keyboard with custom keycaps installed. (Photo: Unattributed, License: CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

True to its name (CIY means “Customize It Yourself”) it had features that made it worthwhile to work on, and was only $45 USD. The big differences? The upper cover was magnetic and just popped of, and the switches were hot swappable. It still wasn't wireless, and the RGB was junk, but neither of those features were of interest to me.

I spent some time with this keyboard. I modded it pretty heavily: adding foam, taping the bottom of the PCB, upgrading the stabilizers, and replacing the switches and keycaps. And it was a decent little keyboard overall. But, it didn't scratch that one itch the GAMENOTE had started: I wanted that compacter layout.

Then it happened… I found a keyboard that was nearly perfect for me.

The Feker 71 Key

The Feker Dopokey Keyboard with custom keycaps (Photo: Unattributed, License: CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

So, let's be clear. There were definitely shortcomings to this keyboard. As widely reported the case had pretty loud ping. The mounting system was pretty standard posts, so there was no give to the keyboard. The plate was steel, so it felt pretty hard. Some people also reported having problems with the stabilizers being sticky. Mine weren't sticky, but they were a bit stiff, which I was able to remedy with a little lubricant. Finally, the software was buggy at best – it worked for setting the RGB, but didn't work for key mapping or macros.

But, here's the thing: for me ninety-five percent of the feel of a keyboard is in the keycaps and switches. I don't worry about the plate or the mounting as much. And, I did, with a set of Kaihl Box Jade switches, and the Akko keycaps as pictured I found this keyboard to be extremely usable. It quickly became my favorite keyboard.

Others who have modified this keyboard have thought that it wasn't worth it. Given what they were trying to do with it (i.e., trying to change the feel of the keyboard by modifying the mounting system), I would tend to agree. However, if all you want to do is deaden the sound, fix the ping, and either tune or replace the stabilizers, I would disagree with that assessment. And that was the camp I was in.

However, there is one issue all the modders mention that I encountered as well, and I haven't worked on: the case screws. For some reason the screws Feker used were made from really soft metal which makes it difficult to remove them without stripping the head or the screw itself. One day I will get around to working on them, and I will find replacement screws so they aren't a problem in the future.

But, even without fixing the pinging, and deadening the sound of the case, I still liked the keyboard. So much that I used it for over a year. And, in fact, I now have a small collection of these keyboards. There were several variants of this model. Including one labeled as a “Mengmoda” keyboard with brass accents, and a frosted acrylic version of this keyboard.

But after a year or so, I set this keyboard aside. Why? And what am I using now?

The Kisnt KN85

Kisnt KN85 with custom keycaps (Photo by Unattributed, License CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

After a while there was one thing that I found lacking in the Feker 71-Key keyboard: a dedicated row of function keys. Now most of the time this isn't a big deal. My focus on typing documents (stories, essays, emails, etc.) didn't require the use of function keys.

However, as I got more into certain games (ahem Minecraft) I started missing those keys. Also, it always seemed better to me to have media controls on the function keys. In fact, I started scanning the different sites occasionally to see if anyone had produced a keyboard with the layout of the Feker, but added the function keys back in.

So, when I saw the Kisnt keyboard pop up on Amazon, and it was under $50 I didn't even think it was a risk. I couldn't look at a $50 keyboard that so closely matched my desired layout and think that I couldn't make it into something decent (assuming the screws weren't made from really soft metal).

When it came in, I was in for a bit of a surprise: Kisnt had done an excellent job producing an entry level enthusiast keyboard. The chassis is solid and doesn't flex. The keycaps had a really nice feel. The switches were a light-medium weight, pre-lubed tactile switch. And, they had filled the keyboard with sound deadening foam, giving the whole thing a nice pop sound profile.

And it's a dual mode keyboard: wired and wireless. The wireless part uses a 2.4Ghz USB dongle, which can be stored in the bottom of the keyboard when not in use. And, much to the delight of the modding community: south facing LED's.

Within a few minutes of testing it, I had to know: how would it sound and feel with my Kaihl Box Jade switches, and my favorite White-on-Black keycaps? Well, the result is what is picture above. And, I have to say, it was still a great keyboard, even if the sound profile changed a bit (but I expected that).

There are only two things I don't like about this keyboard: (1) the extra gap between the main part of the keyboard, and the navigation cluster, and (2) the placement of the Home and Del keys, which I would swap. (Unfortunately their software only supports Windows and Mac, so my Linux system is out of luck, unless it will work under Wine.)

But, I decided that I liked this keyboard so much that I bought a second one. The second one is the black version. It now how my Kaihl Box Jade switches, and White-on-Black keycaps. The one from the picture above has the gray / blue keycaps with a set of customized Akko Sponge switches (I lubed them and installed 3 stage springs, the same weight as the Box Jade switches) which I use for gaming.

Conclusion

So there you have it. This is where I am at now. While I made it sound like this was a straight progression from Havit→CiY→Feker→Kisnt it wasn't. I've tried lots of other keyboards along the way, many of which were as bad, and in some cases worse, than the Havit keyboard. And some of them were technically better, but didn't quite work out… But those are stories for other articles.

I mentioned in About Ennui Vagaries that I had abandoned keyboards, or at least No Thoccs Aloud because other reviewers / outlets were working on the same ideas that I had, and they had more resources. And while that is true, there is another aspect to this.

I think I have a different set of values than many people engaging in hobbies. I don't believe in “grail” items. I don't believe in spending unnecessarily to get what I want. I don't believe in form over function. And I most certainly don't see something like a keyboard as a luxury item.

Given that today you can spend $20 and get a keyboard that will work reliably, any additional money that you spend has to bring significant improvement to you in some measurable manner. For me taking a $50 keyboard, tossing $25 worth of switches, and $25 dollar keycaps into it is a worthwhile expense only because it is significantly better than a $20 no name keyboard. The aesthetics are something that come from just making good choices along the way.

And, that's where I am now with my keyboards. No Thoccs Aloud is dead, long live No Thoccs Aloud via Ennui Vagaries.

There is a sense that many Americans get when they visit other countries abroad. It’s a sense that in some places outside the US there is just something different about the way people live and enjoy life. The writer Gary Shteyngart attributes this to something called sensualism. Sensualism is a sort of hedonist impulse to enjoy life through the senses. It is the appreciation of craft, of human creativity, typified by the enjoyment of good food, drink, clothes, and arts. It is made possible by robust communities tied together by strong families and governmental systems that nurture the artisanal over the mass-produced. It is also something considered in short supply in American culture, and by extension modern secular culture. Writers like Shteyngart argue that American culture has strayed away from sensualism in favor of ruthless optimization—things like looksmaxxing and the endless pursuit of health and wellness optimization all point to the same soulless, corporate haze that has come to define much of what we consume. What’s the point of a living a life that’s optimized to the max if you can’t enjoy it?

When I hear the term sensualist, I do somewhat recognize a few of its traits in me. I too prefer the artisanal over the corporate. I too believe that American culture has favored optimization and efficiency over beauty. I find workout culture and health tracking tedious and not-fun. Shteyngart advocates for more sensualism—that we don’t have enough sensualism in our society. To me, the choice between going for a run or sitting in a hot tub is obvious—I’d rather not run. Yeah, I get it. Working out is healthy and can extend your life, but who cares how long your life is if you’re just going to spend it running and working out all the time?

Despite my disdain for health-optimization and workout-culture, sensualism presents its own problems. I love sensual pleasures. I love good food, I love a good hot tub. I like buying and enjoying things like clothes and gadgets. I like music (sometimes) and I like tobacco. These are all wonderful sensory pleasures that I often seek out but when I do I’m usually burned by how fleeting and unrewarding these experiences ultimately are. They never last and they never seem to be enough. Even worse, the more I seek them out the more unsatisfactory they become—not to mention the various negative downstream effects they accumulate on the mind and body.

Often times I find myself in the middle between these two impulses, unsatisfied by both. Optimization makes me feel like a soulless robot constantly needing training and upgrades to extend a life filled with more training and upgrades. Sensualism and all its material pleasures leave me in a constantly dissatisfied state too. A state that is always chasing the next hit. It is exhausting and unfulfilling.

It is only natural for humans to want to do more of the things they like. So often we believe the more we do of one thing the more we gain from it—more sensualism, more optimization. In these modern times, I often see so many of us running around doing more and more trying to wrest some state of bliss that will never come. The idea of sensualism is nice, it’s attractive; it feels like the answer to what feels like a soulless amalgam of corporate slop.

My more Buddhist impulses tell me to find a middle way—neither the life of an ascetic, nor the life of a hedonist. The answer according to the Buddha is not to entirely reject sensual pleasures and live the life of an ascetic, but to recognize, embody, and acknowledge that all of life is transient and fleeting. It is the realization that there is nothing outside of the self that will ever be fulfilling—neither material pleasures nor optimization, so just stop.

But even practiced meditators can fall into the trap of believing that the more you meditate, or the more you acknowledge the transient nature of material desire, the more enlightened you’ll be. Like one Buddhist monk put it, “You have to stop believing that meditation will do anything for you.” But this is truly infuriating to hear, and a mind bogglingly difficult concept to practice concretely. So difficult, in fact, it can cause people to abandon meditation entirely. The reason it’s so difficult is because it is unnatural for us to not be seeking—to want to do more of something.

Perhaps we shouldn’t be fighting the natural human urge to look for something out there. The human urge to seek is not a weakness, nor is it a defect to be eliminated in order to find fulfillment. The human urge to seek is our spiritual engine. We have a natural impulse to do more of something in order to reap its rewards. The perennial problem of the human condition is that our natural urge to seek is almost always directed at the wrong things—things that can never fulfill us in the way we need. So our seeking needs to be channelled—it needs to be redirected.

For me, personally, I’ve found that Islam offers precisely the road map to channel this urge to seek and learn. But that’s just me. Others find it in the other Abrahamic traditions and that’s fine too. But this isn’t about which religion is better or worse, it’s simply to offer the idea that when our urge to seek is channeled to God, Allah, the Ultimate Reality, whatever you might want to call Him, sensualism arises naturally. When we seek out God’s grace, forgiveness, blessings, the material offerings of the world become gifts to be grateful for. We slow down and savor them. We appreciate them as gifts and not a means to an end. Seek God, not sensualism; sensualism will arise out of that.

So now when I sit in a hot tub enveloped in the warm, luxurious pulses of the jets, I recognize that it’s not the hot tub that will save me. The hot tub is a gift given to me. I say thank you—thank you for letting me be alive in this very moment. Thank you for everything that’s come together in this precise way to allow me to enjoy this, even if only for a moment. That is sensualism.

Vor einigen Jahren begann ich wieder, regelmässig von Hand zu schreiben. Nicht aus Nostalgie, nicht aus Skepsis gegenüber digitalen Werkzeugen. Mein Alltag spielt sich weitgehend am Bildschirm ab, und ich möchte das nicht ändern. Doch immer dann, wenn ich etwas wirklich verstehen, durchdenken oder entscheiden möchte, greife ich zum Notizbuch.

Diese Gewohnheit entstand zunächst aus einem praktischen Impuls. Mit der Zeit stellte ich fest, dass sie etwas verändert: Gedanken werden klarer. Zusammenhänge treten deutlicher hervor. Schwierige Entscheidungen wirken weniger überwältigend. Lange hielt ich das für eine persönliche Eigenheit. Heute spricht einiges dafür, dass dahinter mehr steckt.

Wir schreiben heute wahrscheinlich mehr als jede Generation vor uns – Nachrichten, E-Mails, Kommentare, Suchanfragen. Gleichzeitig schreiben wir immer seltener von Hand. Schreiben ist für viele zum reinen Übertragungsmedium geworden. Dabei gerät leicht in Vergessenheit, dass es ursprünglich noch eine andere Funktion hatte: Gedanken zu entwickeln.

Schreiben als Denkform

Wer schreibt, hält Gedanken nicht einfach fest. Häufig entstehen sie erst während des Schreibens.

Jeder kennt die Erfahrung: Eine Idee wirkt im Kopf überzeugend. Erst wenn man versucht, sie aufzuschreiben, werden Unklarheiten sichtbar. Argumente müssen geordnet, Begriffe präzisiert, Zusammenhänge hergestellt werden. Schreiben zwingt zu Entscheidungen. Gerade deshalb eignet es sich so gut zum Denken.

In der Schreibforschung gilt diese Erkenntnis seit Langem als weitgehend unbestritten: Schreiben ist nicht nur Kommunikation, sondern ein kognitiver Prozess. Während wir schreiben, strukturieren wir Wissen, entdecken Widersprüche, entwickeln neue Perspektiven. Das Blatt Papier wird gewissermassen zum Gesprächspartner.

Philosophen wussten das schon lange. Seneca schrieb Briefe, die zugleich Selbstgespräche waren. Marcus Aurelius führte Aufzeichnungen, die nicht für andere bestimmt waren, sondern für ihn selbst – ein Denken in Schrift. Das Notizbuch war kein Archiv, sondern ein Werkzeug.

Die Stärke der Langsamkeit

Von Hand zu schreiben ist langsamer. Genau darin liegt einer ihrer grössten Vorteile. Die geringere Schreibgeschwindigkeit zwingt dazu auszuwählen. Gedanken werden verdichtet statt bloss übertragen. Informationen werden verarbeitet, bevor sie notiert werden.

Neurowissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zeigen, dass Handschrift komplexe Netzwerke im Gehirn aktiviert: Erinnerungen werden abgerufen, sprachlich formuliert und gleichzeitig durch feinmotorische Bewegungen begleitet. Vor einigen Tagen habe ich hier über eine Studie berichtet, die Unterschiede zwischen dem Lesen auf Papier und auf Tablets untersuchte. Dort ging es vor allem um räumliche Orientierung und Integrationsprozesse beim Lesen [1]. Auch beim Schreiben spricht deshalb einiges dafür, dass physische Medien Denkprozesse anders unterstützen als digitale Werkzeuge – wenn auch vermutlich aus teilweise anderen Gründen. Hinzu kommt ein weiterer Effekt: Die Verlangsamung der Handschrift zwingt dazu, Gedanken stärker zu verdichten. Wer verstehen statt lediglich dokumentieren möchte, kann gerade davon profitieren.

Gedanken ordnen, Gefühle verstehen

Besonders interessant – und in der öffentlichen Diskussion bisher wenig beachtet – ist ein anderer Aspekt: Schreiben hilft nicht nur dabei, Wissen zu strukturieren, sondern auch Emotionen.

Bereits in den 1980er-Jahren entwickelte der Psychologe James Pennebaker das Konzept des expressiven Schreibens. Menschen schrieben über belastende Erfahrungen – nicht um literarische Texte zu verfassen, sondern um Erlebtes zu verarbeiten. Zahlreiche Untersuchungen zeigen, dass dieses Schreiben helfen kann, belastende Gedanken einzuordnen und ihre psychische Wirkung zu verringern [2].

Der Mechanismus ist erstaunlich einleuchtend: Solange Gedanken im Kopf kreisen, bleiben sie diffus. Sobald sie in Worte gefasst werden, erhalten sie eine Form. Das Problem verschwindet dadurch nicht. Aber es wird greifbarer.

Emily Rónay Johnston von der University of California, Merced verweist auf neuere neurowissenschaftliche Arbeiten, die darauf hindeuten, dass bereits das bewusste Benennen von Gefühlen Hirnregionen aktiviert, die an Planung und Selbststeuerung beteiligt sind, während die Amygdala, zuständig für Bedrohungs- und Angstreaktionen, ruhiger werden kann [3]. Wer Gefühle aufschreibt, reagiert weniger impulsiv und gewinnt Abstand zur Situation. Vielleicht erklärt das, weshalb viele Menschen intuitiv zu Papier greifen, wenn sie sich über etwas ärgern. Ein nie abgeschickter Brief, einige Seiten im Tagebuch: Sie lösen das Problem nicht. Aber sie schaffen Ordnung im eigenen Denken.

Papier als Denkraum

Hier liegt die eigentliche Stärke des Papiers. Ein Bildschirm eignet sich hervorragend zum Speichern, Suchen und Organisieren. Papier lädt zum Erkunden ein: Pfeile entstehen zwischen Gedanken. Begriffe werden eingerahmt. Skizzen verbinden sich mit Stichworten. Ganze Seiten werden zu Landkarten des Denkens. Nicht selten entdecke ich Zusammenhänge erst, weil sie räumlich vor mir liegen.

Diese räumliche Freiheit lässt sich zwar digital nachbilden; aber sie fühlt sich anders an. Papier fordert keine Benachrichtigungen, kennt keine geöffneten Tabs und bietet keine Suchfunktion. Gerade dadurch zwingt es dazu, beim Gedanken zu bleiben.

Papier für das Denken, digital für das Verwalten

All das ist kein Plädoyer für analoges Arbeiten. Für Recherche, Archivierung und Zusammenarbeit sind digitale Werkzeuge den meisten Papierlösungen deutlich überlegen – und ich möchte darauf nicht verzichten.

Der Fehler liegt nicht darin, dass wir digital arbeiten. Er liegt darin, dass wir fast alles digital erledigen. Nicht jede Tätigkeit stellt dieselben Anforderungen. Wer Informationen verwalten möchte, ist mit dem Computer gut beraten. Wer nachdenken, planen oder schwierige Entscheidungen vorbereiten will, ist es oft mit Papier.

Seneca und Marcus Aurelius schrieben nicht, weil Papier Wissen konserviert. Sie schrieben, weil Schreiben ihnen half, zu denken. Das Schreiben war Teil des Denkens. Und es ist das bis heute.

Ein Notizbuch ersetzt weder Fachliteratur noch digitale Werkzeuge. Aber es erfüllt eine Aufgabe, die diese nur begrenzt übernehmen können: Es schafft einen Raum, in dem Gedanken langsam genug werden, um Gestalt anzunehmen.

Papier ist langsam. Gerade deshalb eignet es sich für jene Tätigkeiten, bei denen Geschwindigkeit nicht das Ziel ist. Wer schreibt, hält Gedanken nicht bloss fest. Er entwickelt sie. Und manchmal ordnet er dabei nicht nur seine Ideen, sondern auch sich selbst. Papier eignet sich zum Denken. Der Computer zum Verwalten des Gedachten.

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Fussnoten [1] K. Umejima, Y. Sunada und K. L. Sakai, „Manga reading on paper vs. digital devices: Prospective effects on core and supportive integration processes in the brain“, PLOS ONE, 3. Juni 2026. [Online]. Verfügbar: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0349778.

[2] J. W. Pennebaker und J. F. Beall, „Confronting a traumatic event: Toward an understanding of inhibition and disease“, Journal of Abnormal Psychology, vol. 95, no. 3, pp. 274–281, 1986. https://psycnet.apa.org/doi/10.1037/0021-843X.95.3.274.

[3] E. R. Johnston, „Writing builds resilience by changing your brain, helping you face everyday challenges“, The Conversation, 2026. [Online]. online: https://theconversation.com/writing-builds-resilience-by-changing-your-brain-helping-you-face-everyday-challenges-265188.

Bildquelle Henriette Browne (1829–1901): A Girl Writing; The Pet Goldfinch, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, Public Domain.

Disclaimer Teile dieses Texts wurden mit Deepl Write (Korrektorat und Lektorat) überarbeitet. Für die Recherche in den erwähnten Werken/Quellen und in meinen Notizen wurde NotebookLM von Google verwendet.

Topic #Erwachsenenbildung | #ProductivityPorn

I’m sitting here writing this piece, dripping with sweat. We’re (hopefully) coming towards the end of a few days of what to me feels like a period of unprecedented heat here in the UK. It’s not just the temperature, it’s the humidity which feels like it’s off the scale. This has been sapping my energy levels in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’m normally pretty active but over the last few days, I’ve not felt like doing anything. All I can focus on is getting through the day, staying hydrated and resting as best I can.

I’m seventy years old. I’m a Boomer/Generation Jones – a generation which feels like it’s becoming one of the most despised ones yet. I personally hate inter-generational strife, not least because of the way it’s whipped up so that we’re all pitted against each other as part of the strategy of divide and rule being implemented by the shady psychopaths who presume to rule over us. Anyway, that’s a piece for another time, a long piece as well…

I mention my age because I lived through the long hot summer of 1976. A number of Boomers have been accused of harking back to their experiences of the long, hot summer of 1976 in the UK, saying that they ‘just got on with it’ and moaning at people being ‘snowflakes’ in the current heatwave. Yes, some Boomers have been saying this. I’m emphatically not one of them! I also think that some people have been making up stories about Boomers coming out with some utter crap about 1976 because they’ve got themselves sucked into this pointless inter-generational conflict.

The long hot summer of 1976 was an ordeal, that’s for sure. People did die because of the heat. There was a drought and water shortages were something we had to deal with. There were numerous wildfires on the hills and moors. There was a simmering undercurrent of tension as the cracks in the social contract started to become clear to see. The riot at the end of the Notting Hill Carnival on the August Bank Holiday weekend was a taste of what was to come over subsequent decades. As was the start of the punk movement when disaffected youth started to kickback against what they saw as stifling social mores.

There’s a lot of misplaced nostalgia amongst some of my age group for 1976 in particular and the 1970s in general. Misplaced because any objective assessment of that decade can tell you that in all honesty, it was pretty shite. Why there is this misplaced nostalgia is probably the subject of yet another piece that needs to be written…

The one thing the summer of 1976 was not and that’s as hot, humid and sodding uncomfortable as the last few days have been. This is the first time in the seventy years I’ve been alive that I’ve experienced a combination of heat and humidity that is as debilitating as this. I’m saying this as someone who, apart from a few issues with having to use catheters to urinate, is in reasonably good health. For anyone who’s not in good health, this combination of heat and humidity is bad news, quite possibly deadly.

From buildings designed to retain heat in the winter months through to a lack of air conditioning, we’re simply not equipped to deal with the conditions that are being inflicted upon us at the moment. This is not just homes but also schools, colleges and a range of other public buildings. Then there’s the seeming lack of any contingency planning to deal with the consequences of this heat and humidity. Also, the general enshittification of modern life that leaves all of us more vulnerable to adverse impacts from climate events as the systems we have break down and fail to cope with them.

I’ve had reason to walk along our local high street a few times over the last few days and it’s like a ghost town. It almost felt like the early days of the lockdown of 2020. A number of schools have had to close because their buildings are not designed to cope with these conditions. A number of cafes and coffee shops have shut their doors over the last few days. I honestly don’t blame them. How can anyone expect a chef to slave away in a kitchen when the temperature, in old money, is going to be over 100F? A number of shops closed early because come the afternoon, the high street was pretty much empty. What is the point of keeping a shop with no air conditioning open if no one is coming in through the door?

If anyone one is having a moan about all of this, they seriously need to take a long hard look at themselves in the mirror. Also, if anyone in the ‘truther’ community is having a moan about the mini-lockdown that has taken place, they need to take some time out to think about how that moaning contributes to the strategy of divide and rule, and consider that they may in fact be a part of the problem.

As for the causes of this heatwave, there isn’t a debate about it. Well, not a reasoned debate that allows for nuance and grey areas. There’s been a lot of tribalist trench warfare that’s stood in for a rational, fact based discussion about the weather we’ve been experiencing recently. One the one hand, there are those who are convinced that we’re now experiencing the payback for what they think is unchecked global warming. On the other hand, there’s the ‘drill baby, drill’ crowd claiming that global warming is utter tosh and that industrial civilisation should carry on unchecked. Then there are a fair number of us not falling for getting dragged into this trench warfare because it only serves the agenda of the shady psychopaths in the background who wield the real power and want us divided.

What I will add are my observations from looking up at the sky over the last few days where I am in Keynsham, on the border between Somerset and Gloucestershire. On Monday (22.6), the day started off with a sky that looked as though high level aircraft were drawing up a giant grid for a game or two of noughts and crosses. As to whether the trails from these aircraft were chemtrails or contrails is the subject of a slanging match – reasoned debate doesn’t really enter into that. As Monday proceeded, those trails merged to form a blanket of cloud. One that kept getting darker and darker until come the evening, a massive thunderstorm which had been slowly tracking its way up from Devon finally hit us, making its mark with a lot of flash flooding across the region.

Thunderstorms normally help to clear the air a bit. This one didn’t. Tuesday, Wednesday and today saw a hazy, milky blue sky. Only just about blue though because of the haze. Not the kind of sky I remember seeing during the long hot summer of 1976. As already mentioned, these three days also gave us a degree of humidity I’ve never experienced before in my life.

I’ve been looking up into the daytime sky since Tuesday and guess what – I’ve not seen a single trail coming out the back of a high flying aircraft. Have all the airlines ceased to fly? I don’t think so. What appears to have ceased for the moment is the pumping out of anything that would form a trail. What it subjectively feels like we’ve got is a haze that’s keeping the heat in to the point it’s becoming unbearable. As this piece is merely my initial thoughts on what has been a weird few days, I’ll admit that the proposition that the weather is somehow being engineered is one that needs further investigation. Suffice to say, I’m keeping an open mind on this.

Then in the middle of all of this weather related weirdness Kier Starmer resigns as the Prime Minister of the UK. Stepping forward in a bid to assume that role is one Andy Burnham, the former mayor of Greater Manchester and as of Thursday 18th June, the elected MP for the constituency of Makerfield after a by-election was called following the ‘departure’ of the previous incumbent. At the time of writing, no other candidate has thrown their hat into the ring so it looks like a straightforward coronation for Burnham as leader of the Labour Party and the Prime Minister of the UK. Starmer was obviously deemed a liability by the shadowy bastards in the background pulling the strings, hence the rushed coronation of Burnham, someone they think will be a more effective World Economic Forum stooge.

Since 2016, we’ve had David Cameron, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak (all Tories) and Kier Starmer (Labour) as Prime Ministers who have been and gone. The (dis)United Kingdom is starting to look like a basket case, isn’t it? All part of a strategy of controlled demolition that’s designed to wean us mere plebs off of the illusion of democracy? That’s certainly something to consider isn’t it?

As the title of this piece states, it has been a weird week and, it’s not over. I just thought it was worth getting my initial thoughts about how weird it’s been written down for posterity. Essentially, this is me thinking out loud while writing what to all intents and purposes is a mere snapshot in time. Which essentially applies to quite a few pieces I’ve written over the years. The question is, how long will it be before ‘events’ play out and make this piece redundant? Only time can tell. Anyway, I’ve flagged up a few themes that deserve some deeper investigation. More will follow, trust me on that...

Today I called out of work because I was emotionally feeling that drained. If I’m being completely honest I don’t really wanna get into it right now, and so I just won’t. I will say that I do feel like I am seeing tangible growth in myself, both in the way that I handle communication, and in the way that I respect my need for time or space before I handle something, as opposed to acting out of emotion.

I went to the gym and I felt really weak because I’m sick and drained, and when I got home after doing other stuff I decided I might as well just take a Polaroid of my body because I was walking around shirtless and I kind of did like the way that I looked. Or at least it felt like it was a familiar thought to feel happy with how I look even if I don’t necessarily fully feel it. And I was hoping that have a nice Polaroid would make me feel good, but on the first one my face was in it and I didn’t know and so I wasn’t making any real expression and I look psychotic and I don’t like the way I look there. I was going to throw away the Polaroid, even though in my scrapbook I have kept every Polaroid even the ones that don’t develop or developed poorly. I decided to try to use my lighter to get the photo to essentially sensor my face, but it ended up just burning the Polaroid. I felt like it was almost poetic in a sense, the burn marks over my face to cover my insecurities and to try to mask it with my body. And it feels almost like intentional objectification of myself, as a way to distract from flaws. To provide my own value in such a clear unconnected sense.