Machined by Hand

Where to draw the line between what you make by hand and what you let the machine make — when the assist is worth taking, when it quietly steals the work, and why the line keeps moving.

Read in order

These read as one sequence — start at the top with Becoming Gnarly and work down.

Becoming Gnarly

June 2, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

The through-line under everything else here — the essays, the software, the games, the bees, the skate ramps. It has to do with picking the harder way on purpose, and with knowing when that's just vanity.

The Self-Riding Bicycle

June 5, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

A joke about a product that frees you from the one thing you actually wanted to do. Convenience has a default direction, and nobody votes on it.

Standing on Surfaces That Move

June 8, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

AI moved the locus of value in software from writing code to deciding what's worth writing. The same move, lagging by a few years, is arriving in the creative arts. And software, a field where the surface has always moved, may have something useful to say about how to meet it.

The Duck That Argues Back

June 12, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

The most undervalued thing AI does for me isn't making things. It's arguing. The sharpest interlocutor I have is a machine, which is a gift and a little lonely.

What AI Polish Does to Hunter S. Thompson

June 15, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Models write two kinds of prose with opposite needs: one where surface noise is texture, one where surface noise is failure. Run Hunter S. Thompson through the wrong one and watch what leaves.

The Tells Were Mine First

June 17, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

I built a tool that detects AI writing, and it called me a fake. The honest test wasn't my AI-assisted essays — it was my pre-AI archive. The tells were in there, dated 2008, including the one I'm most accused of.

Fifty Percent of What?

June 19, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Everyone arguing over whether AI-assisted work is 'more than 50% human' is measuring with a unit that never existed. The older questions are the ones I'd rather answer.

You Can't Police a Groove

June 24, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Music spent a decade trying to legally police influence, in a medium where the units are unusually legible. It went badly, in ways worth knowing before we try the same thing on everything at once.

We Already Voted With Our Lives

June 26, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

We hand machines near-total control of an airliner at 500 mph with our lives aboard and don't blink, then call it untenable when an AI helps write a jingle. I don't think that asymmetry is hypocrisy.

It Certified Its Own Forgery

June 29, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

The dream of AI-assisted work is a machine that checks its own output and lets us leave the room. A master forger, and the chemistry that finally caught him, is why I don't think that loop closes.

Can I Interest You in a Self-Riding Skateboard?

July 1, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

A quick test for whether AI is coming for something you love: picture the version that does it for you, and watch whether you feel relief or theft. A skateboard riding itself and a backyard beehive explain the rest.

Everyone's a Ringer to Somebody

July 3, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Every player better than you in your beer league is a ringer; every tool past the one you learned on is cheating. The cheating line always indexes to the self — except writing turns out to have one kind of friction the panic keeps getting right by accident.

The Blade and the Rock

September 2, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

I've built mountain bike trails with hand tools and ridden the kind a machine cuts in a day. The difference was never care. It's a four-foot blade that can't ask above-or-below-this-rock.

The Diamond Was Always a Story

July 6, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

A chemically identical stone, grown in three weeks, for a fraction of the price. It didn't disrupt the diamond. It said out loud what the premium had always been for.

You Can't Relic a Life

July 8, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

A brand-new guitar, factory-aged to look like it survived forty years of gigs. You can buy the wear. You can't buy the years that earned it, and I'm no longer certain anyone still checks.

Nobody Told the Scribes

July 10, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

The monastic scribes had a good four hundred years, and nobody sent word it was ending. The paid-creator era is a window of the same kind, and the consolation on offer isn't comfort.

The Gate Was the Product

July 15, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Some creative reputations were earned and some were just gatekeeping, and cheap AI is quietly exposing which is which. A field guide to the galleries, labels, and imprints that were protecting the work — and the ones only charging rent to get in. Written from the ungated side, where I've always stood.

The Gate I Built

July 17, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

For four years I wrote the technical screening tests companies used to decide who got programming jobs. I took that work after a GPA filter kept me out of a job I could already do.

The Hand Was Never the Point

July 22, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

The art world, supposedly the temple of the artist's hand, abandoned the hand four centuries ago and called it genius. Many hands and one name, the arrangement everyone fears in AI, is the oldest move in fine art.

The Unwatchable Race

July 24, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

A driverless racing series would be a flawless spectacle with no reason on earth to watch it. The two things optimization can't fake are a clock and a rival.

The T-Shirt Economy

July 29, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

AI is finishing the job streaming started — turning artists into brands and their work into the brand's marketing. Performance was supposed to be the refuge, but the economics ended up somewhere weirder. We may all be headed toward being t-shirt salesmen.

The Intimacy Economy

July 31, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Small room, no scoreboard, and the artifact left to do its own arguing. It doesn't scale to mass. I've been quietly building my projects into that shape anyway.

The Anti-Engagement Product

August 5, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

There is a class of product whose success metric is the user disengaging: falling asleep, finishing the book, putting the controller down. Sojourn is one. Almost everything in the standard playbook inverts.

Everybody Can Dunk Now

August 7, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

In basketball, height stands in for skill often enough that nobody bothers questioning it. AI is height anyone can rent, and the tape measure is coming for every sport at once.

The Forge Was a Side Effect

August 12, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

I spent a run of essays telling you to relocate to your taste. I never said where taste comes from. The forge that built mine is one I'd never run again, and the machine is quietly removing it for everyone coming up behind me.

Again, Funnier

August 28, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

I've made Rick Rubin the hero of three essays without once stress-testing him. Strip the reverence off his method and it's a guy in a room saying "again" until it lands. So was the marketing director who did it to my friend Terry. So am I, at an AI prompt, all day.

Holding Both

August 14, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

I use AI every day and disclose it every time, and I think a few companies acquiring the means of thought is one of the most serious things happening in our lifetimes. Those two facts don't fight — and the rage that pretends they do is the surest way to lose the argument that matters.

The Long Thank-You

August 19, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

A story about giving away a domain name to a nonprofit and getting a four-year-late thank-you in the form of doubles on a vert ramp. The gift economy of skateboarding still works because both ends of it know how to operate without keeping score.

The Tax of Mastery

August 21, 2026 · by Michael Morrison

Why a competent adult would choose to be bad at things on purpose. Two kinds of starting over — the joyful reset and the dragon you've spent a life avoiding — and a dusty inherited guitar I decided to make mean something.