The Analog Manifesto
This isn’t a declaration.
It’s a reminder.
A compass.
A note scrawled in the margin of a life that’s easy to forget belongs to us.
We live in a machine-made world — faster, louder, more polished by the minute.
But speed without soul leaves everything flat.
That’s why I’m choosing analog.
Analog means fingerprints on the work.
Ink smudges. False starts. Coffee stains on the page.
Analog means presence.
Analog means alive.
It’s not nostalgia.
It’s not resistance to progress.
It’s a rebellion against sameness.
A refusal to sand off the edges.
Analog is how I remind myself to pause.
To pay attention.
To live with texture, imperfection, and meaning.
This manifesto isn’t just about notebooks, pens, or doodles.
It’s about how we live, work, create, and connect.
With our hands. With our voices.
With our flawed, beautiful humanness.
If you’re here, maybe you feel it too —
the pull toward something slower, more real.
Something with pulse.
This is my stand:
to write, to draw, to make,
to live in a way that feels unmistakably alive.
And yes — I’ll probably spill coffee on it.
That just proves I was here.
