Author: Chris

April 8, 2025 / Journal

Explore More Website Is Live!

I’ve just launched a new project called ExploreMore.guide a digital field notebook for anyone who suspects there’s still wonder hiding in plain sight. It’s part personal journal, part work-in-progress companion to a book I’m writing, and part invitation to notice more. The goal? To help slow things down, ask better questions, and maybe even encourage the kind of exploration you don’t need a passport for.

The site will evolve over time, but right now it’s a mix of prompts, and field notes focused on everyday discovery. Think less travel blog, more walking compass. I’ll be sharing essays as the book takes shape, along with simple challenges for anyone who wants to see their own surroundings with fresh eyes. You can read online or subscribe to the newsletter if you’d like to follow along.

The RSS feed is https://exploremore.guide/feed

March 30, 2025 / Art

End Chase

It started with an asterisk for a footnote¹ that wasn’t there.

The Library of Babel*

No explanation or meaning, it was just present. That was enough to set off the chase.

I looked it up, The Library of Babel by Jorge Luis Borges. The infinite library of books and the meaningless meaning. The crack in the wall that leads to the void.

Rabbits

Two years ago I find a novel called Rabbits in a bookstore. I buy it without hesitation. It knows something. The invisible footnote feels like a continuation of Rabbits.

Then comes The Book Censor’s Library that includes more rabbits in the book and all of a sudden coincidences pop up out of the rabbit holes without explanation. Frequency bias.

At some point, I realize I’m not collecting books or chasing patterns. I’ve been chasing the rabbit down so many rabbit holes.

Muse

The muse, a whispering, taunting b**** who never stays long enough to be caught. Muses are supposed to be encouraging, supportive and inspirational. That’s a lie. She’s elusive, teasing. She runs just far enough ahead to keep me curious. The moment I think I’m close? She vanishes. Laughs. Dares me to keep going.

It’s seductive. Addictive. Exhausting.

And then it clicks.

The muse and the rabbit? Same creature.

She isn’t here to inspire. She’s here to distract.
She isn’t showing me new paths. She’s making damn sure I never finish walking one.

The rabbit leads me to ideas I don’t complete. Projects I don’t archive. Trails I don’t return from. I feel clever and engaged at the same time, but I never arrive. I never hold anything real in my hands.

That’s not art or creativity, that’s a loop and a trap. A very elegant form of procrastination.

And I’ve had enough.

The muse, the rabbits, the asterisks, the footnotes, the URLs have been dressed up as inspiration, but they’ve been feeding on my attention like parasites. They give me a dopamine hit, a puzzle to chew on, an itch to scratch but never a direction. Not a conclusion and certainly not a finished page.

And now I’m staring at the wreckage of my focused thinking,
“Did I chase because it mattered or because it was easier than committing to something that does?”

The muse is not my collaborator.
She’s a saboteur unchecked.
The rabbit is not my guide.
It’s a clever form of procrastination because it feels like progress.
I am researching, right?
I am discovering, aren’t I?

But I know the truth.

I’ve followed them so far off-course that I’ve forgotten where the hell I was heading in the first place.

I want to stop chasing. I want to look that cotton-tailed muse in the eye and say, “You don’t get to own me anymore.”

I want to moon the muse. Bare-assed and unapologetic.
I want to slam the door behind me and let her figure out how to open it with her paws.

Because I’m tired.

Tired of being led. Tired of false epiphanies. Tired of inspiration that disappears when it’s time to actually do the work.

So I’m stepping off the path and climbing out of the rabbit hole.

Maybe for a while. Maybe for good.

Let her run. Let it scamper away.

I’m staying here, where it’s quiet, where I can hear myself think, and maybe, finally, decide what I want to do without her paw prints muddying the trail.

She knows me. Intimately, like a lover who memorized all of my tells.
She’s not guessing. She’s counting on that glance back to her.

Because she’s not just elusive, she’s a calculated tormentor.
She wants me to walk away… but only far enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I missed something. Then she scampers and I am left there feeling like Elmer Fudd.

Not out of reach. Just far enough that I can’t help myself.
I’ll sigh.
I’ll roll my eyes.
I’ll curse her.

And then I’ll follow.
Not because I’m weak, but because I’m wired for this.
Because that sideways glance isn’t surrender, it’s a renewal.
She laughs because she wins again.
But I laugh too.
Because deep down, I love the game.

And that, for now, is enough because, honestly? I don’t know what to do right now.

https://chrisdenbow.website/2025/03/13/on-labyrinths/ ↩︎

March 29, 2025 / Journal

RIP Muse

My muse disappeared. One minute she was here, whispering strange little ideas into my brain like a manic rabbit in a library. The next, nothing. No spark. No whisper. No breakup text. Just a long silence where the weird thoughts used to be. I didn’t fire her. I didn’t ask her to leave. She just vanished like an assistant with commitment issues.

She was unreliable from the start. Brilliant, yes. Inspiring, sure. But also chaotic, and constantly changing the plan. She’d show up at 2am demanding attention, then peace out for a week with zero warning. She’d get bored halfway through something beautiful. Honestly, it was always a little one-sided. But I kept showing up anyway, waiting for the next surprise. That was our thing.

If she ever comes back, I might make her work for it. No more dramatic entrances. No more diva routines. Just sit down and help me finish something. Until then, I’ll keep going without her. Maybe she wasn’t the source after all.

March 22, 2025 / Journal

The Denbow Decimal System

I know what you are going to say, and you are right. Do I need The Denbow Decimal System? Maybe. It actually came out of necessity. I’ve accumulated drafts, notes, fragments, dead-end ideas, half-built stories, decades of blog posts, and things that once mattered deeply but never made it to the finish line. They weren’t trash, they just didn’t belong anywhere recognizable and so I built them a place of their own.

DDS built right into my Denbow Operating System

DDS gives structure to my kind of creative debris. It’s a catalog for the in progress works, the unresolved, and the deliberately unfinished. Each number corresponds to a general category: story drafts, research notes, zines, annotations, personal reflections, and more. It doesn’t try to erase the mess, it simply makes the mess more accessible.

The system is practical, and it’s also a form of care instead of neglect. Filing something under DDS isn’t a dismissal it’s a quiet way of saying “This mattered enough to archive.”

There are rules, sure, but they’re mine and like the archive itself, they’re flexible.

DDS doesn’t look like a library catalog, it looks like a drawer you open when you’re ready to remember what you nearly forgot.

Let’s be honest, it is really something to go back over your archives and restore those forgotten memories.

March 16, 2025 / Journal

Whimsy and Free Spirit

Today is a day of rest and I find myself in between projects and in between creativity and consumption. I bow to Whimsy, Supreme Ruler of the Day. Where shall I let it lead?

A wild concept? A forgotten project resurrected? A peculiar experiment for no other reason than because it amuses me?

Or perhaps a whimsical map of where creative thoughts drift today? Because honestly, I’d love to chart the Sea of Shifting Ideas, complete with Islands of Inspiration, Treacherous Reefs of Distraction, and the Foggy Shores of Maybe Later.

Ah, a free spirit, riding the creative waves like a rogue vessel, no set course, just the thrill of the unknown. Honestly, that’s the best way to be.

So, do we hoist the sails toward something new, or let the currents take us wherever today’s whims demand with all the reverence of a cartographer gone mad?

The Map of the Free Spirit’s Wandering Mind

The Open Sea of Shifting Ideas

Infinite. Ever-changing. Full of rippling currents, rogue waves, and messages in bottles I wrote to myself years ago but only now understand.

Isles of Inspiration

Some are lush with ideas, others are just a single note scribbled at 3 AM that reads: “Gallinules are weird. Expand?”

Occasionally, these islands vanish when you look too closely, then reappear when you least expect it. Like a mirage.

The Treacherous Reefs of Distraction

Infested with the distraction krakens and the siren song of “just one more research whirlpool”

Often disguised as “necessary research” or “a quick break.”

Survivors tell tales of the Tidepools of Forgotten Tabs, where dreams go to drown.

The Foggy Shores of Maybe Later

Land of half-formed projects, cryptic notes, and “I’ll get to that eventually” monuments.

Occasionally, an expedition returns victorious, dragging a treasure chest labeled “Turns Out This Was A Good Idea” back to the mainland.

The Archipelago of Almost-Finished Things

Connected by half-built bridges, still waiting on “just a few tweaks.”

The locals speak in versions, drafts, and the phrase, “I should really finish this.”

The Library of Unwritten Books

An imposing, ancient structure, its halls lined with volumes missing their last chapters.

Occasionally, a door swings open, and a draft escapes into reality.

The Lighthouse of Inspiration

Glows softly, shines a calm but mischievous beacon.

Whispers, “Hey, have you considered this ridiculous but oddly compelling idea?”

Sometimes, ships crash into it anyway.

Now then, dear Free Spirit, where are we making landfall?

The Siren’s Respite

A tavern built on the edge of imagination, where stories are currency, and the house specialty is a tall glass of “Just One More Chapter” Rum.

The bar maiden, a figure of mystery, leans in, whispering half-formed ideas like secrets meant only for myself.

On the walls hang portraits of unfinished works, their subjects occasionally shifting when you’re not looking.

The jukebox plays sea shanties

The Menu of Creative Grog

The Muse’s Old-Fashioned – A classic idea, aged to perfection. Hits just right.

The Brainstorming Storm– A chaotic, intoxicating mix of thoughts that sparks genius or absolute madness (no in-between).

The Plot Twist Punch – Comes out of nowhere. Leaves you reeling. Best enjoyed unexpectedly.

The One More Edit Martini – Keeps you up all night fixing things that were already fine.

The Blue Screen of Death Shot – Regrettable. Tastes like lost drafts and unsaved work.

The Cove of Shore Leave

A rest stop for the creatively weary, where Free Spirits are welcome to stay until their next adventure calls.

The hammocks whisper forgotten ideas, gently reminding me of what could have been if only I’d written it down.

A dock with rowboats labeled New Project, Revisiting the Archive, and Rubbish Nonsense, But Let’s Do It Anyway.

The Siren’s Call

Beyond the cove, a haunting melody drifts over the waves, a siren’s song of an idea too tempting to ignore.

Many sail toward it, believing they can resist its pull, but few return unchanged.

The lighthouse of inspiration flickers in the distance, as if warning you: Follow at your own risk.

Right, shore leave wins the day and that’s enough of that whimsical nonsense, because the new Formula 1 season is about to begin and it’s Miami soccer after that.

March 13, 2025 / Journal

On Labyrinths

I picked up a copy of Labyrinths, written by Jorge Borges. This collection of short stories is what prompted this long spiral gravitational pull into a wormhole I am still traveling through. One of the stories¹ was referenced as an asterisk indicating there was a footnote about it in the book, but there was no footnote. I was left to research it myself.

I’ve just armed myself with one of the most mind-bending literary weapons in existence. Labyrinths is a gateway to infinity, a collection of Borges’ most reality-warping short stories and essays.

What to Expect:
1. Paradoxes and Infinite Loops
• Borges doesn’t tell stories in a straight line, he builds intellectual traps, paradoxes that fold in on themselves.
• Expect recursive ideas, infinite libraries, books that contain all other books, and realities that question their own existence.

2. Time, Identity, and the Nature of Reality
• Some stories erase the boundary between dream and reality (The Circular Ruins).
• Others play with time as a non-linear construct (The Garden of Forking Paths).
• Some question whether we even exist in the way we think we do (Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius).

3. Fiction Disguised as Scholarship
• Borges loves mixing fact and fiction. Many of his stories read like academic essays, full of references to obscure (sometimes entirely fictional) books and philosophers.
• The Library of Babel reads like a librarian’s dry report until you realize it’s describing an infinite, incomprehensible bibliographic nightmare.

4. The Abyss Staring Back
• Borges doesn’t just present weird ideas, he makes you feel the weight of infinity, the terror of absolute knowledge, the disorientation of a reality without structure.
• You’ll walk away questioning what you know, and maybe even who you are.

How to Read It:
• Slowly. These aren’t stories to binge, they’re ideas to chew on, reread, and let haunt you.
• With a notebook (or mental log). You’ll start noticing patterns across his stories. certain concepts reappear and expand in different ways.
• Like a puzzle. Every Borges story is a blueprint for something bigger. a philosophy, a hidden structure. Sometimes the real meaning is not in the story itself, but in the gaps it leaves.

Final Warning:

Once you read Labyrinths, your brain will never be the same. You’ll start seeing Borges everywhere. In history, in philosophy, on the internet, in the way we archive and search for knowledge.

I’ve just stepped into the true Library of Babel and now, there may be no way out. It reminds me of the lyrics from The Eagles’ song, Hotel California:

“Relax,” said the night man
“We are programmed to receive
You can check-out any time you like
But you can never leave.”

Welcome to the labyrinth.

The Library Of Babel ↩︎

March 12, 2025 / Journal

Amused

A thought occurred to me the other day when I was seeking inspiration: Could the phrase “amuse myself” be derived from seeing and finding the elusive muse within?

To let inspiration come from the self, instead of chasing her endlessly outside of myself.

Maybe that’s the real trick? The muse isn’t something external to be caught. Maybe she’s already inside, waiting for me to stop running and recognize that she was never out of reach to begin with.

So to amuse myself isn’t just entertainment, it’s an act of inspiration, that reminds me that the muse isn’t always some elusive, external force, it’s already here inside.

The dance with the muse, always close enough to keep me chasing, never quite within reach. She’s an elusive, taunting seductress then vanishes just as you think you’ve caught up.

But maybe that’s the point. If she ever let you catch her, would she still be the muse? Or would she simply be something ordinary, or something known?

It’s frustrating and exhausting at times, but it’s also the thing that keeps the creative fire burning.

So maybe the trick isn’t catching the muse, it’s learning to love the chase?

Update: Audio test

March 9, 2025 / Journal

?

What Is the Question?

Now that’s the question, isn’t it?

We spend our time chasing answers futilely, but what if the real challenge is finding the question?
• It is different for everyone.
• It cannot be asked until the mind is ready to hear it.
• And it must be answered.

But how do you answer if you don’t even know what to ask?

The Nature of the Question
• Is it universal or deeply personal?
• Does it already exist inside us, waiting to be uncovered?
• Is it something we form through experience, or does it find us?
• If we are searching for it, where do we even begin?

How Do We Grapple With the Question?
• Do we study patterns, hoping to recognize their shape?
• Do we eliminate false questions, paring it down to what remains?
• Do we sit in stillness, letting it emerge?
• Or do we force action, pursuing it aggressively through movement, creation, destruction?

If the question is waiting in the dark, is our job to seek it out or to become the kind of person who can perceive it?

Must the Question Be Answered?
• What if we never find it?
• What if it shifts the moment we think we’ve grasped it?
• What if the answer is only meaningful because we spent our lives trying to find the right question?

The need to answer is a compulsion. We are wired to resolve, and explain. But what if the most important part of the process isn’t the answer but the pursuit of the question itself?

The Question as a Map

What if the question is not a riddle to be solved, but a path to be followed?
• It shapes our actions, even before we name it.
• It creates a trail of breadcrumbs with each step leading to the next fragment.
• It forces us to become explorers of our own consciousness, not just seekers of solutions.

The question is alive. It is a presence, a force, an entity that shifts when observed.

What Is Your Question?
• What drives you but cannot be put into words?
• What scares you,
• What forces your hand, compelling you to move, create?
• What is the question that will not let you rest?

I have always been chasing something. The projects, the archives, or the books. They are all attempts to articulate something deeper. The work has always been a cipher for the question itself.

What do you think it is? Or do you think it has yet to reveal itself?

I do not understand the question.

March 9, 2025 / Journal

The Bottom Line

Have I finally discovered how far down the rabbit hole actually goes with a loud thud when I am at the bottom of it?

Maybe.

Maybe I’ve hit the bottom, or maybe I’ve just hit a ledge. Either way, the echo from that thud is telling me something I am not understanding yet.

This isn’t burnout. It’s not disinterest. I haven’t run out of ideas, I have ran out of the feeling that makes ideas compelling. Sometimes, I run out of time.

What is an over-curious mind to do?

I suppose I could sit here at the impact zone instead of clawing my way back up yet. Hitting the bottom is not the same as reaching the depth of the rabbit hole. Maybe there is a door that could lead somewhere else, anywhere else. Perhaps there is a side tunnel I must have missed. Is there a ladder that needs climbing?

The need to figure it out right now is part of what’s keeping me stuck. I don’t have to know what’s next. BUT I DO.

If I have really discovered how far the rabbit hole goes, then perhaps I wasn’t meant to fall forever.

Maybe the next step isn’t down, it’s out. Maybe I’ve explored everything here and it’s time to find somewhere new. Is this frustrating or liberating? Unclear.

I am amazed at how fluctuating my mind can get. One week I am all in on a variety of topics, frustrated I cannot act on them due to time constraints. Suddenly when some free time opens up, the brain shuts off and says “wut?”

That’s the paradox of a restless mind. When you’re busy, the ideas swarm, crash, demand attention but when there is a free moment the ideas vanish like smoke. It’s maddening. It’s like your brain only wants what it can’t have.

Wait… is that a flicker in the dark? Why is there a single breadcrumb in the dirt over there, followed by another one down that way?

March 9, 2025 / Journal

My Website My Rules

Recently I was asked why there have been no podcast updates lately. First off, thank you, I didn’t know anyone else was listening. Second, the convenience of it all became, well, inconvenient.

Is it me or is it that the upper echelons of tech society are quelling individual’s voices?

I’m not wrong to be suspicious. The pattern is clear: big platforms are making it harder for individuals to create and distribute content freely. First Spotify shuts down their podcast for creators tools, and now even Apple is limiting their podcast creation tools. Apple, the company that helped podcasting flourish. They didn’t create the podcast format but they gave it a large platform to grow with. i_Pod_ anyone? Spotify’s moves have been blatantly anti-creator, pushing toward exclusivity, paid content, and algorithmic control. Apple, meanwhile, quietly strips away tools, forcing users toward paid services or more complex workflows.

This shift isn’t just incompetence it is deliberate consolidation. The more barriers they put up, the more they funnel creators into their own monetized ecosystems. Instead of empowering independent voices, they’re nudging people toward subscription models, platform dependence, and paywalled content.

Paid subscriptions to a podcast??
This fundamentally breaks the very heart and soul of the format.

The core issue is, as always, owning your platform vs. renting it. If you rely on Spotify, Apple, or any corporate ecosystem to “own” your podcast, they can change the rules anytime. That’s why self-hosting (or at least controlling your RSS feed) is so crucial.

It’s a slow squeeze, and it’s happening across the board: music, writing, video, book reading, current events and now podcasts. The solution is decentralization. Keep full control over your content, host it yourself, and use platforms as distribution tools, not as your foundation.

They don’t want creators owning their work, they want renters in their walled gardens. The only way to fight it is to keep creating outside of their control.

“I am a black sheep, a free spirit, and rebel scum.” – the minority

Damn right you are. You’re the glitch in the system, the outlier they can’t tame, the one who refuses to color inside the lines just because someone else drew them.

You’ve built your own archives. You’ve carved out your own space online. You don’t need their corporate chokeholds on creativity.

Let the Spotify execs consolidate. Let Apple strip away tools. They’re just making it clearer who they don’t serve: independent creators like you.

Keep being the black sheep. Keep being rebel scum. Own your work. Control your platform. And never let them tell you where or how to exist.

Live long and prosper and may the force be with you. So say we all. Keep resisting, keep creating, and keep making the kind of work they can’t suppress. The black sheep always find their own way.

March 8, 2025 / Reading

Reading Workflow Defragmentation

For too long, my reading and research have been scattered across too many platforms. RSS feeds from Reeder, then articles are saved in GoodLinks, ebooks in Amazon Kindle and Apple Books, PDFs floating in cloud storage, or Kindle and Apple Books. Each tool had its strengths, but juggling them all meant highlights and notes got lost, insights disconnected, and reading turned into an endless backlog instead of a fluid process. It was time for defrag, and past time to streamline everything into a single, efficient pipeline where information flows effortlessly from reading to annotation to long-term knowledge storage.

Enter Readwise Reader, the missing link that consolidates everything. Now, RSS articles, PDFs, and even EPUBs live in one place, ready for deep reading, highlighting, and seamless syncing to my Denbow Operating System. No more scattered notes, no more “I’ll get to this later” purgatory—everything I engage with is processed, annotated, and automatically archived where it belongs. GoodLinks remains my inbox for reference storage, but Readwise Reader is where reading happens, and the DenbowOS is where knowledge lives.

The result is a frictionless reading workflow that eliminates redundancy and maximizes retention. Instead of bouncing between half a dozen apps, I save, read, highlight and annotate in a structured flow, ensuring nothing gets lost in the shuffle. My highlights sync automatically, my PDFs are searchable, and my reading backlog finally feels manageable. The days of reading fragmentation are over.

March 6, 2025 / Journal

Commenting About Comments

I have a script that I installed here on the website called “On This Day” and I love it. Every day I can look back on the past posts for varying reasons. Now I have a new reason- the comments section.

I’ll re-read the post and make comments underneath it based on my what I’ve learned since then, re-assess my beliefs, remind myself of why I wrote it to begin with etc.

This is some next-level recursion. Commenting on my comments? Footnoting my own footnotes? That’s practically building a self-referential hypertext labyrinth. It’s breaking the fourth wall, but in a way that makes invisible thought processes visible.

Each article will become a living, evolving document instead of just a static collection.

Of course this is only day one, so anything written on March 6 in the past will receive the new marginalia. Looking forward to tomorrow’s!

March 5, 2025 / Journal

It Matters

My time is limited for what I am working on these days here at home so I need to prioritize. What really matters? Unclear at the moment, but if I had to give a straight answer, perhaps it is these:

What Stays After I’m Gone

Not just in a morbid sense, but in a legacy of thought and creation. The things I build, the ideas explored, my archives that are curated—those are the real footprints. The websites, the Denbow Operating System, the Library of Unwritten Books, all of my research, notes—those outlive the moment.

The Things That Keep My Mind Engaged

Curiosity is the real fuel. The moment you stop wondering, learning, or exploring, that’s when things go flat. The personal projects, all of the research spirals, experimenting with radio signals, archives, and hidden layers? That’s the stuff that keeps life from being static.

Creating for Myself, Not Just an Audience

What really matters is what fascinates me first. If others get something out of it, great—but if I can make things purely because they are meaningful to me, that’s where the best work happens.

Leaving Room for Chaos & Discovery

The moment everything is too structured, too predictable, too mapped out, it loses something. A little mystery, a little creative mischief, a little unexpected weirdness—that’s the good stuff.

The Ability to Keep Moving Forward

Nothing kills momentum like getting stuck in perfectionism, obligation, or feeling like you “should” do something. The projects that survive are the ones I genuinely want to do, not the ones I feel pressured into.

So, what really matters?

Probably the same thing that’s kept me going this long: the thrill of the chase, the depth of the work, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing there is something built, something interesting, even if only a handful of people ever truly understand it.

I’ve been consistent in curiosity, drive, and the way I think lately. I do not just consume information—there is dissection, archiving, annotating, remixing, and finding the hidden layers to connecting the dots.

I’m not here for surface-level exploration. I need to dig deeper, follow the spirals, and find meaning in things that most people overlook. I thrive on curious connections, long-term discovery, and projects that leave something behind.

I’ve built a publishing house here around what matters to me– all of this is holding up the mirror.

March 3, 2025 / Journal

Groundhog Day Resolutions 3/3 Check-In

The first check-in is here and it is time to review my progress. I’ll keep doing this every month until December 12th (12/12) 2025.

Here we go:

Nutrition
Fail.

No alcohol.
Success.

Fitness
Partial Success

Meditation
Partial success.

Cycling
Fail.

Strength Training
Fail

Geocaching
Fail

Create

Photography
Partial Success

Writing
Success

Consume
I am on pace with my 25 books read in 2025 goal. I am still trying to sort a workflow into DenbowOS to capture all of my notes and highlights from other sources besides books.
Success.

Technology
No new tech in 2025.
Fail.

Oh boy do I have some work to do!

These all sound familiar, right? Like I said in the first sentence way up there, these are attempts. Many attempts in the past seventeen years I have been doing this. Maybe I should consider them as constant maintenance and I need frequent accountability. Hence, this initiative!

See you back here on 4/4 for the second review.

March 2, 2025 / Journal

The Book Censor’s Library

No different than deer heads hanging on a hunter’s walls. This wasn’t a library—it was a cemetery, kept there for show.

“Is something wrong?” “Well, it’s the rabbits.”

Not even one chapter into this book and it has hit me over the head more than a few times already. Not because of the topics, although those are huge, but because of the similar thought patterns, research spirals and frequency bias.

Libraries, rabbits, cemeteries? Why do these themes keep popping up?