When I first read The Hollow Universe by Jono Alderson, I felt something I rarely feel online anymore:

Seen. Unsettled. Charged.

It wasn’t just that I agreed with it. It was that I recognized it. This wasn’t a warning about a potential future. It was a stark, beautifully phrased confirmation of what I’ve been feeling for years. Hell, what I’ve been building against for years.

“We built the internet, then we let it rot.”

That one sentence clanged like a church bell in my soul.

I remember when the internet felt like something you could wander through. Stumble onto things. Get lost in rabbit holes and find people. Now, everything is frictionless and sterile – designed for speed, optimized to hell and back, and stripped of its soul in the process.

“It’s easier than ever to publish something, but harder than ever to be discovered.”

OMG, yes. We’re all standing on soapboxes in a vast stadium of empty seats. The bots clap. The algorithms nod. But the people? The connection? That’s buried beneath A/B tests, SEO’d content, and “like and subscribe” desperation.

And worst of all?

“Everything is performance, and nothing is intimate.”

Every post is crafted to perform. To go viral. To stay on-brand. To chase the metrics instead of the moments. And I say this as someone who used to be neck-deep in SEO. I know how the sausage is made, and I no longer want to serve it.

But here’s the thing that stuck with me most about the article: I’m not alone. I’m not the only one mourning what we’ve lost or trying to reclaim it. That there is still hope. Quiet, steady, pulsing hope.

So What Do You Do When the Universe Is Hollow?

You build something with walls and warmth and weird little corners.

That’s why I created Webring Studio. It’s my attempt to give people a way to rediscover the joy of curated discovery. Not an algorithm telling you what to see. Instead, it’s filled with fellow humans saying, “Hey, this is cool, come look.”

I’m not trying to save the internet. I’m not trying to scale. I just want to carve out a few small spaces where the universe isn’t hollow. Where real humans gather around handmade things and say, “Oh, you too?”

If You’re Feeling It Too…

…do something. Anything. Start a blog. Join a webring. Link to a stranger. Write a weird post that no one but your future ghost will read. Be a rebel.

Let’s un-hollow the universe. One link, one ring, one beautifully unoptimized moment at a time.

And while you’re at it?

Take a break from the endless scroll, the 2x playback, the dopamine drip of likes. Grab your favorite beverage (coffee, tea, a margarita, or a nostalgic pour of Strawberry Hill – I won’t judge) and maybe a snack that reminds you of days long gone.

Then sit down and really read The Hollow Universe. It’s not a 30-second read. It’s not designed to “convert.” But it will stay with you and maybe, just maybe, shift the way you see the web.

You’ve got time. Or at least, you deserve to.