Why an almanac
Most of what I collect is not worth keeping. This is where the rest goes.
I have been collecting things for years. Charts, studies, quotes, half-formed arguments about why people do what they do with money. Most of it lived in folders nobody would ever open again, including me.
The problem was never collection. Collection is trivial now. You can subscribe your way to ten thousand words a morning and understand less at the end than you did at the start.
The problem is what survives.
The test
An almanac earned its place by being useful to a farmer on a specific day. Tide tables. Frost dates. When to plant, when to harvest, when to stay inside. Nobody read one for entertainment. They read it because a decision was coming and the book had something to say about it.
That’s the test here: does this change a decision?
If a study tells me something interesting but I wouldn’t act differently knowing it, it doesn’t go in. If a chart is beautiful but the underlying series is noise, it doesn’t go in. Most things don’t go in.
What this site is
Two halves.
The writing is here, in The Journal. It goes up when there’s something to say. There’s no schedule and no newsletter to feed, so there’s no incentive for me to publish filler, by design. More signal, less noise is much easier on the constitution.
The tools are what I built for myself and never stopped using. A market overview. A risk barometer. A research database with the noise filtered out. A studio for cloning what large investors own. A running read on Purpose, People, Health, Time and Money. They were never meant to be products. They’re instruments, and now they have a front door.
That’s it. One tagline, and it’s the whole editorial policy.
Data. Intentionally Curated.