who am I, after the seizure?
Essays on voice, memory, and epilepsy. A memoir in progress about the machine that listened. And a day job leading AI that amplifies people instead of flattening them.
I write with a brain that occasionally goes offline.
“Learning to Tell the Truth to Those I Love.”
An essay in The New York Times' Modern Love on what an intelligent machine can hear in a human voice — and what it cannot.
A memoir of epilepsy, silence, and the machine that listened.
I'm at work on a book about the inner life of an AI-augmented mind — what it means to be heard by something that cannot misunderstand you, and cannot love you back.
About the book →I work in two places at once — at the page, and at the table where decisions get made about how AI shows up in people's lives.
The writing is rooted in living with epilepsy: voice as something you keep having to find. The AI work is rooted in the same instinct: build systems that amplify a person rather than flatten them.
01 / Writing
An essay practice on Substack about epilepsy, memory, and the self that comes back after a seizure. The New York Times piece sits inside the same question — what an AI heard in me when I let my guard down.
The writing →02 / Leadership & strategy in the age of AI
I lead, advise, and translate. Half the work is shaping systems; the other half is making the trade-offs legible to the people who have to live with them.
The experience →Five essays I'd hand you first.
An ongoing essay practice on Substack — epilepsy, memory, work, and the slow return of a voice.
Subscribe on Substack →On returning to a place that no longer fits the person you've become.
Why the systems we're told to run on were never built for us in the first place.
On the quiet violence of being seen as something you are not.
Living with epilepsy and what the body remembers when the mind goes offline.
On what survives a seizure — and what it costs to bring it back to the page.