simidiot.net

// transmission_001

welcome to the trench

you have arrived at simidiot.net. there is no product here. there is no pitch. there is only a half-flooded server humming somewhere off the coast of nowhere, broadcasting whatever the kelp will let through.

please remove your shoes. the floor is mostly seawater.

est. some tuesday in 2026

// field_notes

on being stupid on purpose

being smart all the time is exhausting. it also leads, on average, to boring websites with rounded corners and pricing tiers. simidiot.net proposes the radical alternative: be a little dumb, be a little weird, let the cards tilt.

typos are accepted
broken jokes are encouraged
the css is held together with kelp

// sticky_note

remember to feed the jellyfish.
they get cranky after midnight.

— the night janitor

// schematic_03

a circuit that does nothing

soldered with seawater. powered by hope.

// manifesto

the church of dumb websites

we believe in load times that aren't optimized. we believe in animations that nobody asked for. we believe in cards that lean a little to the left because nobody bothered to straighten them. we believe in the deep web that lives between two browser tabs at 4 am.

if you understand, you understand. if you don't, that's also fine, nothing here was for you anyway.

// jellyfish_log

tonight's jellyfish

name: barnaby. mood: contemplative.

// dispatch

a list of things that are blue

the abyss, in general
my last screensaver
the feeling at 2:47am
most of the css variables on this page
denim, but only the washed kind
that one frame in princess mononoke

// aside

this card has no point.
it is here for the vibe.

vibes count as content. pass it on.

// archive

old transmissions, fished from the kelp

03.27 discovered an entire colony of starfish living inside a defunct router. they appear to be using DHCP.
03.21 spent four hours debugging a problem that did not exist. felt enlightening.
03.14 tried to write a "real" homepage. the kelp would not allow it.
03.02 site went down for 6 hours because a crab was sleeping on the power cable. did not have the heart to move it.

// reach_out

how to send a bottle

there is no contact form. forms are for people with goals. instead, write your message on a small piece of seaweed and throw it into any body of water deeper than your knees. it will probably get here.

or, alternatively, the much less romantic option:

simidiot [at] simidiot [dot] net

replies arrive in 1–47 days, low tide permitting.