Have A Good Day

As a teenager, I was into aviation, hung out at airports, and collected postcards of airplanes. The Boeing 747, the jumbo jet, was the obvious crown jewel. Seeing one, or receiving a postcard of one, brought a jolt of joy.

The Atlantic has an article about the Boeing 747 that revealed some details I didn’t know. The 747 was originally built with cargo in mind: with the pilots on the upper deck, the nose could be opened to front-load the containers. Since supersonic flight was all the rage in the 60s, Boeing believed that would be the destiny of a big, slow plane. When the 747 was used mostly for passengers, airlines had all kinds of fancy ideas for what to do with the space. Very different from the squeezed-like-sardines concepts they use today.

The article also shows why modern journalism can be so tedious. The writer tried hard to produce the everything-gets-worse narrative that the media (and selfish politicians) love so much.

But while the golden age of flying in the 70s was lavish, with jumbos offering space, bars, and lounges, better safety, and the affordability of flights today are certainly an improvement.

Of all the World Cups I’ve experienced, none took place in the country where I lived. Until 2026. This one snuck up on me. With “so many things going on in the world,” it just did not fit in mentally.

Now it’s here, and it is exactly what we need: three host countries and 45 guest nations coming together to celebrate. And what is a better place than New York, where you can access city services in 175 languages? Someone here probably roots for each of the 48 teams, and every day someone has a reason to celebrate.

This changes the story and the mood, hopefully not just for the next weeks.

If you still don’t like the World Cup, let Bill Saporito of the New York Times convince you.

When we were in Lisbon, we had to take a cab because of a transit strike. Elke asked the driver whether he spoke English, and indeed, like most people in Lisbon, he did. From there, we had a lively conversation about life in the city, with its ups and downs.

This reminded me of a science fiction story we both read in the early 90s, in which the narrator instructed a robotic driver “with conversation.” Curiously, both a self-driving car and a chatting computer are no longer science fiction in 2026.

“With conversation” has since become a running gag between Elke and me in these situations. But which story is it from?

Surely, ChatGPT knows, so I asked when we stopped at a street café later that day. Aside from the quote, I remember quite a few story details: The narrator visited a friend who had become incredibly rich by inventing a universal material based on water. I also recalled that it had a Russian angle (like many SF stories).

ChatGPT rattled off a series of stories, none of which matched. One was The Water Statues by Fletcher Pratt from New York. While not Russian, it was close to Russian sci-fi of that era. That sounded specific enough that I let it be and moved on.

Back home, I followed up and learned that Fletcher Pratt had never written a story titled The Water Statues. There is a book with that title by Swiss author Fleur Jaeggy, but it is not science fiction.

So back to square one. I remembered that the book containing the story was called Das Mädchen am Abhang (“The girl at the slope”). A Google search revealed the author’s name. From there, ChatGPT finally identified the story as Die Flüssige Materie (The Liquid Substance) by Ilja Warszawski, which has never been translated into English and hence eluded the internet and AI.

It’s fascinating that a published story that has become so ingrained in Elke’s and my memory is largely obscure to the rest of the world. 

Into the Gap by Thompson Twins was the first album I bought myself in a record store. A friend who already had a record collection recommended some titles to me. I chose Thompson Twins because I knew their hits, and there was a woman in the band (which was rare in the 80s). I didn’t like the album much back then.

While I loved synth-pop, “Into The Gap” was too upbeat and whimsical for my taste. Today, I would give it more credit for its intricate production, including Alannah Currie’s creative use of percussion.

You don’t code anymore as a software engineer; you only prompt. For years, knowledge of a particular programming language ecosystem was a core distinction for developers, but almost overnight, it no longer matters. It still helps to be able to quickly read and understand code. Also, software engineering is much more than coding, but the job has changed a lot.

Does the role of a writer change in the same way, prompting AI instead of writing the words yourself? Writers are obviously pushing back against that. I‘m a bit unsettled reading through a thread like this one on Substack Notes. We do use AI for glamglare, so will our posts be marked as „AI-assisted“ and filed under „slop“?

It is convenient to buy into the thought that by not using AI, your work automatically becomes better and that you come down on the right side of culture. AI won‘t go away; just look at the companies that embrace it wholeheartedly.

Is it true that AI can flatten language and „steal“ your voice? We see that every day when working on copy for glamglare. But you don‘t have to accept what AI gives you. You can push back, ask for changes, or simply ignore it. And unlike a human editor, it is never offended.

A study on how writing on the internet is changing due to AI found that of six assumptions, only two could be confirmed: language becomes less diverse, and the general tone becomes more positive. I think we can live with that. 

BTW, this post, like all posts here, is entirely written by me and only slightly revised for grammar with Grammarly.

In 2026, I started using a paper notebook as my main organizational tool. That came with a conscious effort to let go of the idea of finding the perfect workflow or toolchain. Four months in, I have to say it is working pretty well.

First, handwriting is faster and more fun than typing on a keyboard, especially a virtual one. If you need the copy digitized, you have to rekey it, but I find that small overhead acceptable, because in many cases I need to revise the text anyway (so far, all digitalization tools, including smart pens, have not worked for me. Fixing errors in the automatically converted text is far more unpleasant than simply rekeying).

Using a paper notebook for task management, Bullet Journal-style, also has the advantage that of keeping you honest. Task management apps make it too easy to create a multitude of tasks and conveniently push them from day to day. The limited space in a notebook forces you to decide whether you want to manually copy, complete, or give up a task.

However, I need to remind myself constantly that the notebook is not a precious journal of my life but a working tool. There is an entire notebook culture that tries to convince you otherwise. I currently use a $35 Art Collection Moleskine notebook because it was the only one with dot-grid paper I could find on New Year’s Eve (the McNally Jackson bookstore has a wide selection of notebooks, but it seems to categorically reject dot-grid paper). At more than 20 cents per 120g page, it makes you wonder whether the paper is worth it for what you want to write down. Honestly, I’m looking forward to being done with it and using a more reasonable notebook.

For a while now, we have been editing many of our posts on glamglare using ChatGPT. It is truly a dance. The purpose of a “Song Pick of the Day” post is to entice readers to listen to a new song. The writer’s personality matters only insofar as it reflects their taste in music. The writing itself is not poetry. It has a clear purpose, and using ChatGPT as an editor serves that purpose. It does not mean we churn out more content. It is still one song per day. It also does not mean it is less work. If anything, it is more effort because posts that used to slip through on busy days are now validated by ChatGPT and often require more rework. Elke and I have different workflows, and we are trying different approaches. On my end, I always write the post first, then give it to ChatGPT with the press copy and the lyrics (if I have them). My instructions tell it to be critical and point out what doesn’t work, and it does. It always creates a revised copy. Sometimes it is perfect: exactly what I wanted to say, with a slight correction. But more often, the revised copy contains too many elements inferred from the press release. This is, of course, the dark side lurking. Synthesizing a post directly from the press release and other information is a slippery slope toward AI slop. Even though it is sometimes tempting to let it slip, I make a conscious effort to push back and emphasize my own angle. With ChatGPT in the loop, I can be more audacious in my writing. Unlike a human editor I may need to impress, AI is infinitely patient and does not judge. It is difficult to describe music and interpret lyrics, so feedback helps a lot here.

Codex – as opposed to Copilot that lives within an IDE – plays nicely with command line tools. I like that because it ties the future of software development (some say the end) to its very beginnings. As a bonus, Codex sets up the nvim configuration in minutes. When I did this a year and a half ago, it took me days of watching YouTube videos and reading READMEs on GitHub.

We’re having a fantastic time at the New Colossus Festival in New York City. While it’s smaller than SXSW or The Great Escape, it has the same effect: feeling inspired and making connections.

I’m looking for a new bag for my work laptop to replace the 16-year-old photo bag that I’m using now. But where can I buy one? In an Instagram ad, I found an interesting one, but I don’t know if I like it. What does the material feel like? How does it look when I carry it? How does it feel on the shoulder? I could order the bag, try it, and return it. Even if returns are free, I still have to package it and drop it off. I could do this with multiple bags, but that adds up to a serious amount of work. However, I cannot think of a single shop in New York City that offers a decent selection of laptop bags.