Jamie Talbot

Ex-gaijin, kangaroo-loving software simian from Merrie England. @Medium build(er).

All around the world

Fun fact: I actually used this kind of technique to help write my online dating profile on RSVP many years back. I married the girl I met there, so maybe there’s something to it? If nothing else, it serves as a reminder of exceptional privilege.

So, the places that shaped me:

The Wirral, England

Rest in peace

The walls are a vivid claustrophobic red, the kind of crimson that could effectively hide blood spatter. The single dusty window doesn’t let enough light in to illuminate the room, and the yellowing 40 watt incandescent lightbulb screwed directly into a socket in the the ceiling can’t do enough to chase away the shadows, or the sense of being incarcerated. A poor connection…

Publications edited by Jamie Talbot

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Thoughts on marriage today

Tech humor and snark

Custom domains for publications

Everyone’s stories and ideas, in more places.

Everyone who posts on Medium already owns the rights to the original content they publish, but many have also expressed a desire to host Medium stories at their own domain.

We understand this. We want Medium to be the place for everyone’s stories and ideas, but that…

Past, present, future

Past Jamie is a moron. Past Jamie took a bunch of shortcuts, the net result of which is that the code Present Jamie is writing is an order of magnitude more complex than it needs to be. Present Jamie understands the need to pragmatically cut the odd corner or two in order to hit a deadline, but Past Jamie appears to have cut so many in this portion of the codebase that…

Naming Ren

When people found out her name wasn’t spelled like the bird, most assumed Ren was named after the TV show Ren and Stimpy, but in truth, it was a little more touching. Her parents had wanted three kids, but were told by doctors that it would be miraculous if they could conceive even once, so when her mother Ellen fell pregnant, they were surprised and delighted.

I was a chalk outline

A recollection.

The car hits me side-on as I cross through the intersection.

The Ford Fiesta

A recollection.

It’s 9:00am, and Mum is standing at the front door, looking at her watch and tapping her foot.

Untitled XII

A recollection.

I’d been trying to find a way to break up with her for a few weeks.