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A while ago I was reading about Wayland and this quote stuck with me: A stated goal of Wayland is “every frame is perfect”. And I think this is a goal we should all aspire to. Wayland is talking about the technical side of things (modern GPU stacks are very complex and Wayland is trying to take control back) but it could be applied to UI too. The rule of thumb is: If I take a screenshot of your app at any moment, it must make sense Why care about every frame? It builds trust. Users can’t see the code, so UI is the only way for them to judge the quality of the app. If UI looks good, that means developers had time to polish it, which means that they probably spent a comparable amount of time to iron out the code. It’s a heuristic, but a reasonable one. Now, what does it mean in practice? I can think of a few things: No white flashes between screens. No partially loaded content. No relayout while content loads. Internally consistent. If one part of the UI says “1 update available”, another part should not say “Checking for updates...” Precise animations. Animations often end up being forgotten. A UI might look great in both start and end states but very janky in between. Like this: If you feel like there are weird things going on there, there are! Look at slowed down version: Now let’s apply our rule and take screenshots in the middle of the animation. This doesn’t look right: Neither does this: Both of these frames are not perfect. Let’s look at another example. Safari: Placeholder text here moves from the center but cursor animates from the left position: Not the end of the world by any means, but it does create a feeling that these two components are not in sync with each other. Next thought: maybe they weren’t designed together? If so, then they might not work well together. That’s how trust is lost. This desynchronization can lead to a lot of confusion. For example, in Photos, when switching between Crop and Adjust mode, picture snaps into place immediately but the crop border is animated: This creates a false feeling that something subtly changes when you switch between modes. And you know what? I don’t want my UI to give me false feelings. I want it to be a precise instrument, not an animated toy. Sometimes animations are supposed to help you understand a transition, so it’s doubly sad when they make it harder. Follow the magnifying glass: Same with Youtube. They had the simplest task in the world: move a rectangle from one position to another! Yet they decided to do something very strange: Can you explain this? Does it make sense? Probably a technical limitation of the DOM architecture they decided earlier on. I call these situations “The technology has outsmarted the programmer”. But no matter the reason, the result is an imperfect frame. Sometimes animations are left out as an afterthought. Whatever happens, happens. Then we get this: The details are fascinating to watch: So yeah. Please pay attention not only to the start and end states, but also to everything in between. Every frame matters. I’ll leave you with this unprovoked zoom animation from Preview app. Take care!
In “Why is Claude an Electron App?” Drew Breunig wonders: Claude spent $20k on an agent swarm implementing (kinda) a C-compiler in Rust, but desktop Claude is an Electron app. If code is free, why aren’t all apps native? And then argues that the answer is that LLMs are not good enough yet. They can do 90% of the work, so there’s still a substantial amount of manual polish, and thus, increased costs. But I think that’s not the real reason. The real reason is: native has nothing to offer. API-wise, native apps lost to web apps a long time ago. Native APIs are terrible to use, and OS vendors use everything in their power to make you not want to develop native apps for their platform. That explains the rise of Electron before LLM times, but it’s also a problem that LLMs solve now: if that was a real barrier to developing native apps, it doesn’t exist anymore. Then there’re looks and consistency. Some time ago, maybe in the late 90s and 2000s, native was ahead. It used to look good, it was consistent, and it all actually worked: the more apps used native look and feel, the better user experience was across apps (which we used to call programs). These days, though, native is as bad as the web, if not worse. Consistency is basically out the window. Anything can look like anything, buttons have no borders, contrast doesn’t exist, and neither do conventions. Apple, for example, seems to place traffic lights and corner radius by vibes rather than by any measurable guidelines. Maybe the server should round the corners? Looks could be good, but they also can be bad, and then you are stuck with platform-consistent, but generally bad UI (Liquid Glass ahem). It changes too often, too: the app you made today will look out of place next year, when Apple decides to change look and feel yet again. There’s no native look anymore. Computer UIs also degrade over time Theoretically, native apps can integrate with OS on a deeper level. This sounds nice, but what does that mean in practice? There are almost no good interoperable file formats; everything is locked inside individual apps, most services moved to the web, and OSes dropped the ball for making a good shared baseline. You can integrate with OS-provided calendar, but you can’t do it with web calendar. Well, you can, of course, but it’s easier on the web; native doesn’t help with it at all. Web pages only lead to more web pages Finally, the last hope of people longing for native is performance. They feel that native apps will be faster. Well, they can, but it doesn’t mean they will. Web apps can be faster, too, but in practice, nobody cares. There’s no technical reason why Slack needs to load 80 MiB just to show 10 channel names and 3 messages on a screen. The web is not the problem here! It’s a choice to be bad. What makes you think it’ll be different once the company decides to move to native? Don’t get me wrong: writing this brings me no joy. I don’t think web is a solution either. I just remember good times when native did a better-than-average job, and we were all better for using it, and it saddens me that these times have passed. I just don’t think that kidding ourselves that the only problem with software is Electron and it all will be butterflies and unicorns once we rewrite Slack in SwiftUI is not productive. The real problem is a lack of care. And the slop; you can build it with any stack.
I have a weird relationship with statistics: on one hand, I try not to look at it too often. Maybe once or twice a year. It’s because analytics is not actionable: what difference does it make if a thousand people saw my article or ten thousand? I mean, sure, you might try to guess people’s tastes and only write about what’s popular, but that will destroy your soul pretty quickly. On the other hand, I feel nervous when something is not accounted for, recorded, or saved for future reference. I might not need it now, but what if ten years later I change my mind? Seeing your readers also helps to know you are not writing into the void. So I really don’t need much, something very basic: the number of readers per day/per article, maybe, would be enough. Final piece of the puzzle: I self-host my web projects, and I use an old-fashioned web server instead of delegating that task to Nginx. Static sites are popular and for a good reason: they are fast, lightweight, and fulfil their function. I, on the other hand, might have an unfinished gestalt or two: I want to feel the full power of the computer when serving my web pages, to be able to do fun stuff that is beyond static pages. I need that freedom that comes with a full programming language at your disposal. I want to program my own web server (in Clojure, sorry everybody else). Existing options All this led me on a quest for a statistics solution that would uniquely fit my needs. Google Analytics was out: bloated, not privacy-friendly, terrible UX, Google is evil, etc. What is going on? Some other JS solution might’ve been possible, but still questionable: SaaS? Paid? Will they be around in 10 years? Self-host? Are their cookies GDPR-compliant? How to count RSS feeds? Nginx has access logs, so I tried server-side statistics that feed off those (namely, Goatcounter). Easy to set up, but then I needed to create domains for them, manage accounts, monitor the process, and it wasn’t even performant enough on my server/request volume! My solution So I ended up building my own. You are welcome to join, if your constraints are similar to mine. This is how it looks: It’s pretty basic, but does a few things that were important to me. Setup Extremely easy to set up. And I mean it as a feature. Just add our middleware to your Ring stack and get everything automatically: collecting and reporting. (def app (-> routes ... (ring.middleware.params/wrap-params) (ring.middleware.cookies/wrap-cookies) ... (clj-simple-stats.core/wrap-stats))) ;; <-- just add this It’s zero setup in the best sense: nothing to configure, nothing to monitor, minimal dependency. It starts to work immediately and doesn’t ask anything from you, ever. See, you already have your web server, why not reuse all the setup you did for it anyway? Request types We distinguish between request types. In my case, I am only interested in live people, so I count them separately from RSS feed requests, favicon requests, redirects, wrong URLs, and bots. Bots are particularly active these days. Gotta get that AI training data from somewhere. RSS feeds are live people in a sense, so extra work was done to count them properly. Same reader requesting feed.xml 100 times in a day will only count as one request. Hosted RSS readers often report user count in User-Agent, like this: Feedly/1.0 (+http://www.feedly.com/fetcher.html; 457 subscribers; like FeedFetcher-Google) Mozilla/5.0 (compatible; BazQux/2.4; +https://bazqux.com/fetcher; 6 subscribers) Feedbin feed-id:1373711 - 142 subscribers My personal respect and thank you to everybody on this list. I see you. Graphs Visualization is important, and so is choosing the correct graph type. This is wrong: Continuous line suggests interpolation. It reads like between 1 visit at 5am and 11 visits at 6am there were points with 2, 3, 5, 9 visits in between. Maybe 5.5 visits even! That is not the case. This is how a semantically correct version of that graph should look: Some attention was also paid to having reasonable labels on axes. You won’t see something like 117, 234, 10875. We always choose round numbers appropriate to the scale: 100, 200, 500, 1K etc. Goes without saying that all graphs have the same vertical scale and syncrhonized horizontal scroll. Insights We don’t offer much (as I don’t need much), but you can narrow reports down by page, query, referrer, user agent, and any date slice. Not implemented (yet) It would be nice to have some insights into “What was this spike caused by?” Some basic breakdown by country would be nice. I do have IP addresses (for what they are worth), but I need a way to package GeoIP into some reasonable size (under 1 Mb, preferably; some loss of resolution is okay). Finally, one thing I am really interested in is “Who wrote about me?” I do have referrers, only question is how to separate signal from noise. Performance. DuckDB is a sport: it compresses data and runs column queries, so storing extra columns per row doesn’t affect query performance. Still, each dashboard hit is a query across the entire database, which at this moment (~3 years of data) sits around 600 MiB. I definitely need to look into building some pre-calculated aggregates. One day. How to get Head to github.com/tonsky/clj-simple-stats and follow the instructions: Let me know what you think! Is it usable to you? What could be improved? P.S. You can try the live example at tonsky.me/stats. The data was imported from Nginx access logs, which I turned on and off on a few occasions, so it’s a bit spotty. Still, it should give you a general idea.
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Reading my recent computing retrospective, I realised there was a big section missing: the people in my life that made an impact and helped shape my career. Outside my immediate family, one person made an outsized contribution, and I’m fairly certain that without his influence my life would have taken a very different path. The fact that I’m still here in 2026, still writing code and being fortunate enough to have a career in something I love is testament to him. So I’d like to take a few moments to talk about my old secondary school teacher, George Dryden. Denied Back in 1995, I had a problem. I knew I wanted to study computing at university and build a career out of my passion, but there was a snag. For those unfamiliar with the UK schooling system, when you’re 15-16 you take a set of GCSE exams in a broad range of subjects. After that, you pick around 3 subjects to really focus on over a period of 2 years. These are called A Levels, and they are a big step up and are meant to prepare you for a degree-level course at university. Admission to university is also governed by these results - if you want to study computing, you’re going to need a computing A-Level, and most universities will only accept you (or “make an offer”) if you achieve a certain grade. And whilst I had taken computing at a GCSE level, my school did not offer a computing A-Level course. I instead had to settle on “Design & Technology”, which just didn’t inspire me. Instead of working on my portfolio and projects, I spent most of my time daydreaming and writing code on the Acorn Archimedes computers that were the staple of every 90s UK school. No disrespect to the teachers - they were all awesome - but it just wasn’t for me. I was miserable, and by the end of my first year, I was well on my way to failing outright with my entire future plans seemingly going up in smoke. Someone noticed That’s when George stepped in. He’d taught me computing right the way through my GCSEs, and with no A-Level course on offer, that was officially where his involvement was supposed to have ended. It didn’t. He had noticed my constant presence in the computing labs - before and after school, during lunch breaks, free “study” periods - working on some little pet project or digging into RISC OS internals. I remember him as warm, with a wicked, dry sense of humour, and a refreshingly spiky attitude to authority - I always got the sense he’d worked out for himself which rules were worth taking seriously and which ones weren’t. And he always had time for me. I spent years pestering him with questions that had nothing to do with anything on the syllabus, and he’d always find a way to answer them that actually made sense. He was just as supportive of my odd little obsessions. At one point I’d got deep into the BBS scene, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, and decided what the school really needed was an internal BBS running on its own network. So I wrote one. It was deeply cringeworthy, obviously - but George helped me put posters up around the school advertising it, and even gave it a mention in assembly one morning. I think about five people in total ever checked it out. It didn’t matter: a teacher had stood up in front of the entire school and treated my weird little project like it was worth something, and that was a hugely validating moment for me. Off the books He recognised the passion, and eventually he made a suggestion: What if I quit the Design and Technology course, and instead attempt the A-level course myself? Personally, I also suspect he was enjoying himself. There was some internal school politics behind why computing wasn’t offered at A-Level in the first place - I never knew the details - and I think the prospect of one of his students simply going out and getting the qualification anyway appealed to him on two separate levels. It would get me where I wanted to go, and it would wind up exactly the right people. It wouldn’t be easy, he warned. The school would be against it, plus it was a two-year course which I’d have to cram into one year. I’d have to do it all myself - studying, lesson planning, coursework - he couldn’t help me in an official capacity, but he said he’d advocate for me and help where he could. If I had assignments, he’d send them off to be graded and would give feedback in his own time. He’d enter me in for the exams and also gave me a set of keys to the computer lab so I could use it whenever I needed. It was the first time anybody outside my own family had really shown faith in my abilities and encouraged me to take a stand. It was a pivotal moment for me - I realised if I wanted something badly enough I would have to fight for it, but I could still make it happen. I didn’t have to take “NO” for an answer - a lesson I think I picked up from watching him as much as from anything he ever actually said to me. After a few weeks of dithering, I took the jump. I remember a few awkward meetings with the school administration but thanks to his behind-the-scenes work, I was soon following my dream. An intense year And yes, it was bloody hard work. I had to condense an entire two year course into under a year, be disciplined enough to produce my own study plan, and be critical enough of my own shortcomings that I could focus my study where it was needed. I pretty much lived and breathed it for months straight and was more-or-less a permanent fixture in the labs or school library poring over my course books. I’d make lists of questions and chat to George over lunch, and he’d provide guidance and encouragement. It was a lonely way to learn with no classmates to compare notes with, no lessons to turn up to, and right up until the end I had no real idea whether any of it was good enough - but bit by bit, it started to feel like something I could actually pull off. And sure enough, in the late spring of 1996, I sat down in an exam hall with my fellow students, the only one with an A-Level computing question paper in front of me. The final exam went by in a blur - I can only remember a few of the questions now (and a peculiar obsession with the Pascal language) - but I do remember the euphoria as the invigilator called “time’s up, pens down, close your papers NOW”. I had done it. A few nerve-wracking months later, my Mum drove me into school to pick up my results. I ripped open the envelope and saw it - I’d passed with an A grade! I literally ran up the stairs to George’s office next to the computing labs to thank him personally. I’d taken my camera into school to take a few last photos for memory’s sake and snapped this photo of him before I walked out the school gates for the last time: A different path Because of him, I managed to get into my university of choice, studying computing with a focus on networks. Because of that, I landed my first job working as a “webmaster”, and my career since has been one of the highlights of my life. All these years later, it’s a real privilege to be able to get up each morning and actively look forward to working in an industry I love. Without George stepping up for me and encouraging me to believe in myself, none of that would have happened. I wouldn’t have had the career I have, and I wouldn’t be where I am now. I met my wife when we both worked at a software company - she sat at the desk behind me - so even my home and family life can be traced back to that spring of 1996. And the A-Level itself was only half of what I took away from that year. The qualification opened the door to university, but the lesson that came with it was every bit as important: that a “no” isn’t always the end of it, and that sometimes the answer can be argued with. I’m so proud of what I managed to achieve all those years ago, and even more thankful to have had someone like George in my life to put me on the right track. Mr. Dryden I did see him again after I left. He drank in one of my local pubs - a pub I’d been going to for a good while before I was technically old enough to be in it - and I’d say hello if I spotted him in there, mostly in the months before I moved away to university. After that it was only a handful of times. For years I’d find myself scanning the room whenever I was back home and in for a pint, half expecting him to be at the bar. At some point I stopped seeing him altogether and eventually moved across the country. The trouble was I never really knew how to talk to him outside of school. He was always Mr. Dryden, or just “Sir”, I don’t think I ever once called him George to his face! I was (and still am if I’m honest) fairly socially awkward, and I never worked out how to phrase the thing I actually wanted to say: that he had changed the entire direction of my life, and I wasn’t sure he knew it. So instead I’d say hello, and ask how he was, talk about nothing much, and go back to my friends. Epilogue Sadly, 3 years ago now, I opened the latest issue of my old school alumni newsletter to read that he’d passed away. The photo at the start of this article was taken from his obituary article and I read that he’d had a long illness and had suffered from dementia at the end. I did write to him years ago by email - I don’t know if he ever got it, or was in any capacity to understand what he’d done for me, but I hope so. There’s an old saying by one of my favourite authors (Terry Pratchett) that “no one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away”. In one of his books, a character keeps the memory of his son alive by passing his name along a series of telegraph towers. It’s in that spirit that I’m writing this post - I debated it for many years as it’s very personal to me and I also have no contact with any of George’s family so I have no idea what they would make of it all. But even though it’s 30+ years ago now, I will never forget him or what he did for me - and at least now, if someone searches his name it’ll be recorded here for as long as I’m alive and running this site. Thank you, Sir. George Dryden 1942-2023
Let’s step inside the kernel and understand how it implements copy-on-write and what are its implications for the performance of user-space systems
Yesterday, I received this email as a response to You Can't Vibe Code Love. It's such a remarkable and powerful statement that I asked permission to share it here, in its entirety, with personal information redacted: Hey Jeff, Hope you and your family are doing well.
A frustrated Reddit post about being a condom between an AI and production made the rounds in our team. Here is why I think the opposite is true and what it means for how we review code, plan work and think.
And here we are three years after I wrote about the Google Pixel Fold being announced, followed now with the announcement of the iPhone Duo...(I have questions about the naming by the way). Four years ago I was talking about web primitives in the platform for the Surface Duo. My how time flies. There are CSS media features, a Viewport Segments API, a Device Posture API but Chromium based browsers are the only ones currently supporting these things. I haven't been able to find any signal yet on whether Safari will support these things in the web platform as the developer docs focus on application development. If you're interested in trying out the platform features, you can emulate the Surface Duo and Galaxy Z Fold in the developer tools. And if you're thinking, do I really have to have my website adapt to two screens? The answer is no. Adding a design to an application or dual screen makes sense if you have an experience that has two simulataneous contexts that are useful e.g. a list of email messages/inbox on one screen, an open message, email thread or email composer on the other. Here's one of my talks from 2022 if you're interested in learning more about what's available in the browser for dual screen/foldable devices. Happy building :)
