The Indie Web and Other Uncanny Digital Reminders of What Was
I moved to Bear recently and, in doing so, I cracked open a rift. I fell into the Indie Web like a drunk stumbling into the backroom of the library where the RSS feeds pulse with a heartbeat you can't unhear. I kinda knew it existed. Like how you know something watches from the edge of the woods. Iâd always been aware of shadowy corners of the web where thinkers dwell, where the words are strange and raw and not sanded down by the smooth, corporate hands of Meta or Alphabet. Places where you commune, not consume.
Before Bear, Iâd taken refuge in Blot.imâa quiet, weird monastery of digital scribes who behave as though the commercialization of the internet was merely a bad dream we all woke up from. A place where markdown is sacred script, and each blog is a tower jutting from the black ocean of digital noise. It did not let me in the way Bear does, shining a light on cultists scratching out arcana on the backs of street signs. It didn't beckon you in the way the Discovery feed does.
Now, I find myself among familiar sigilsâtags, webrings, hand-rolled RSS feedsâand the people who tend to them like ancient keepers of the flame. It's not content. It's not blogging. It's something older. Stranger. More true. Here are a few of the sites I've uncovered in my travailsâportals in the labyrinth of the modern net. Some large, some small. All humming with occult frequencies.
1. Rhoneisms by Patrick Rhone
Patrick is a digital loremasterâan archivist of thought who seems to dwell half in this world and half in an older one. I first encountered him through Minimal Mac and Enough, a podcast that now feels like a cryptic cassette tape left playing in an abandoned cabin. His essays? Insightful. Funny. Full of quiet power.
2. Ellane W by Ellane W
Discovered her through a wandering click, and now Iâm mentally branded with the sigil of One Big Text Fileâa method of note-taking so monolithic and intimidating it feels like it was pulled from a 13th century fever dream. Itâs brilliant. Itâs madness. I will never do it. But I cannot stop thinking about it.
3. Avaâs Space by Ava
If youâve been on Bearâs Discover feed, youâve seen Ava. Sheâs like a ghost that leaves poems in your coat pocket. Her writing appears often like a helpful spirit. Always thoughtful. Often vulnerable. Occasionally uncanny. Her blog is like a lighthouse powered by vibes.
4. The HTML Review
This one felt like finding a grimoire bound in soft leather and semantic markup. It is beautiful. It is accessible. It makes me feel like yes, the web can still have meaning. If youâve ever worked in accessibility and nearly gone mad trying to get a heading structure right, this site will make you weep with joy and dread.
5. Jim Nielsen by Jim Nielsen
Tech blogs are usually sterile temples to the god of Ad Revenue. Not Jimâs. His is a clean, well-lit placeâan observatory, not a megachurch. He dissects the web like a benevolent necromancer, pulling apart bones and showing you how the marrow sings.
Too, Iâve taken to wandering. I drift through the haunted ruins of NeoCitiesâa place where GIFs never died and the HTML is held together more by hope than design. I walk the loops of IndieWeb Rings, clicking deeper into a maze of personal spaces and cryptic homepages where the authors often feel more like warlocks than bloggers.
Thereâs a kind of discovery in this. An eerie joy I havenât felt in years. I thought the internet was deadâjust a hollow cathedral echoing with the ghosts of childhood, where the altar was replaced by an ad for AI toothbrushes.
But no. Thereâs still magic. Still wonder. You just have to stop looking for content, and start listening for the whispers.