I’ve become the kind of man who needs three browsers just to know where he is, what he’s supposed to be doing, and sometimes who the hell he even is. Chrome on the left to look for answers. Comet in the middle to anticipate them. Atlas on the right to make them up from scratch.
The Holy Grail of knowledge, shattered into three tabs and wrapped in dark mode.
What would my seventeen-year-old self say—the one who read Rimbaud in the wrong translation and drank absinthe bought at a street market, convinced that a single burning synapse could change the world?
He’d probably spit in my face. And honestly, he’d be right.
Instead, here I am, updating three browsers while watching a group of workers trimming the hedge in my garden through the window (they all seem far happier than I am). And I, like a badly aged Bukowski who somehow drifted into digital marketing, find myself wondering what the f*ck I’m doing with my life.
I’m no longer searching for the truth. I’m searching for the fastest way to simulate it.
I keep three browsers open not to go deeper, but to compare different versions of the same lie.
Remember the Browser Wars of the ’90s?
Those were bar fights.
This—this is the real Cold War.
Is this the Singularity? Maybe.
Not an AI gaining consciousness, but a man slowly losing his own.
Until next week,
greetings from Simone.
SIMONE PUORTO
