Stillness Inside the Storm
My name is Freddie Wright Nix Jr., but the ones who know me call me Spike.
There is a particular kind of silence that comes with watching someone you love disappear one memory at a time. This space holds that silence, and everything that lives within it.
What This Is
A personal archive. A field manual. A witness to the daily practice of showing up when showing up is all you have left. No heroes here. No villains either. Just the weight of love measured in laundry loads and medication schedules.
Daily Practice
AI & Infrastructure
+Building systems that think so I don't have to. Automating the automatable. Creating digital infrastructure that holds when everything else falls apart. The machines remember what we forget.
Caregiving
+Two parents. Two different declines. One requires constant vigilance against the fog of Alzheimer's. The other battles hoarding and the fortress of denial it builds. Both need more than one person can give.
System Rebuild
+Every crisis is a system failure waiting to be fixed. Healthcare navigation. Legal frameworks. Financial structures. Building the infrastructure that should exist but doesn't. One line of code, one phone call, one form at a time.
Memory Book
The Day She Forgot My Name
But remembered the dog we had in 1987
404 Errors in Human Form
When the neural pathways return "file not found"
The Hoard
What 30 years of "might need this" looks like
Night Shift
3 AM is when the real conversations happen
The Mediator
Standing between two parents who forgot how to talk
System Crash
When Medicare meets reality
Systems Not Stories
Field manuals for the war nobody trains you for.
Journal Archive
The Infrastructure of Love
Built another automation today. This one handles medication reminders...
Thanksgiving in Separate Rooms
Two parents. Two meals. Zero shared memories...
What the Machines Know
The AI remembers her birthday. She doesn't...