Est. in defiance · Somewhere in Texas · Vol. I
Ugly Texan
A compendium of poor decisions, documented in real time and without editorial oversight. A little corner of the internet about the things I love making.
This is not a portfolio. There is nothing here to buy. Some of you will get it. Many will not. Pull up a chair. There is quite a lot to look at.
Cover: The Proprietor — synthetic, 2026 · likeness disputed
Identification
Subject
This is the face that shows up wherever I do — comment sections, group chats, the profile picture people describe as “a lot.” It is not a disguise. It is a summary.
I. The Creed
A storage unit for things I could not stop making. A workshop with the door left open.
This is not a portfolio. There is nothing here to buy, and no funnel at the bottom of the page waiting to greet you. I am not building a personal brand. I am building a storage unit for objects, opinions, and half-finished enthusiasms that would otherwise be loose in the house. This is a place to keep the things I make — projects, pictures, long thoughts, short ones. Some of it works. Some of it is a lesson. All of it is mine.
Some of this will be funny. Some of it will be a brisket. A few of you will understand exactly what is happening here, and you are the reason the lights are on. The rest of you will send me an email about it, which is fine — I built a form for that, and it goes nowhere. If you found your way here, you probably know me, or you know someone who does. Have a look around. Nothing is optimized. Take your time.
If you came for lifestyle content, I want you to know the site is working correctly. If you came for a laugh, you are in the right place.
01
Nothing is optimized.Nothing is rushed.
02
Nothing is sponsored.Nothing is for sale.
03
Nothing is finished.Everything is still going.
I½. The Articles
Articles of Faith
Twelve. Non-negotiable. Subject to revision after the third drink.
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I
Nothing here is for sale. Including, eventually, the domain.
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II
Thou shalt not ask a man about his sourdough starter. It is dead. It has been dead. Move on.
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III
Every tool is a lesson. Most lessons cost a finger.
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IV
If a thing can be finished, it can be finished badly and quickly. Prefer the first.
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V
A hobby is a debt owed to a version of yourself with more time. He is not coming back.
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VI
Do not photograph the brisket before it rests. Do not photograph me at all.
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VII
The garage is not storage. The garage is a museum with a bad roof.
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VIII
Never explain the joke. Never explain the site. Never explain the hat.
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IX
Any opinion offered before nine in the morning is a weather report. Not a thought.
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X
Guests are welcome. Guests who ask about a vegetarian option are a different category.
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XI
Learn the language of a country you will never visit. It builds character and wastes an evening.
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XII
If they don't get it, they were never the audience. If they do, pour them something.
II. The Dossier
The Accused
Figures below are self-reported, unaudited, and defended vigorously.
0
Hobbies initiated
0
Hobbies completed
0
Tools ruined
0
Sourdough starters buried
0
Unfinished novels
0
Apologies issued
“A renaissance man in the original sense: interested in everything, proficient in very little, and completely unbothered by the difference.”
III. The Log
Field Notes
Updated when something happens, or when I need to explain myself to an object.
End of the record. There is no page two. There is barely a page one. More entries soon.
IV. Evidence
Exhibits
Recovered from the property. Medium: synthetic. Intent: disputed. Colour: load-bearing.
Click any exhibit for the full record.
Exhibit A
The Congregation of Fourteen Hours
Feeding time is a sacrament
Exhibit B
Portrait of a Landlord
He has opinions about the fence
Exhibit C
The Kitchen, Consecrated
Eleven knives. One drawer. Rules.
“Every object in this house is either a tool, a relic, or a warning. Most are all three, and most are in the garage.”
V. Inventory
Ongoing Catastrophes
A partial register of pursuits currently occupying square footage, money, or my remaining patience.
Current obsession
Competitive blacksmithing
VI. Transmit
Say something into the void
There is no mailing list. There is no confirmation email, no welcome sequence, no brand voice. There is barely a website. If you know me, you already have a way to reach me, and you have probably used it at an inconvenient hour. If you would like to say hello, this form is a nice way to do it. I read everything that arrives.
Filed.
Nothing was sent. Nothing is ever sent. This is a static page and the form is decoration — a beautiful, load-bearing lie. If it mattered, you would have used the email.