Still is a daily log in the oldest sense — tasks, events, and notes, written by hand on a single page. No streaks, no nudges, no dashboard pretending to know you.
Your agent can read it and write to it — pull what you logged, add what you asked it for. And every line says who may read it: your agent, or only you. The private ones are sealed to a key I don’t hold — so the sentence you would otherwise not write still gets written.
what your agent may read is drawn by the keys, not by a setting — there is no switch that turns the private zone off. no trackers either, and the whole journal deletes in one tap.
thursday · today
april 17
○
6:40morning walk · the small loop by the river
✕
water the fig and the thyme
•
!write three honest sentences — no editingmind
–
◇light arrived slow today, almost shy; the kitchen held it for a long time
•
11:00call mamalife
○
15:30tea with s. at the bookshop on lindenlife
›
reply to the long email from annawork
migrated →yesterday’s open task, carried gently.
the practice · four glyphs
a small grammar that holds the whole day.
Every line is a bullet, and every bullet is one of four kinds. That is the whole system — the bullet journal method, unchanged. The page does the rest.
•
task
something to do
○
event
something with a time
–
note
something noticed
✕
done
something finished
›
a fifth, for what you carry forward — migrated.each morning the journal shows yesterday’s open tasks and asks whether they are still worth doing.
!◇
and two small marks in the margin — ! for what matters most today, and ◇ for a thought worth keeping.
the journal · as it stands
what the journal does, today.
no roadmap promises on this page — every line on it is in the app right now.
— 01
the day
One page per day. Write tasks, events, and notes line by line; strike them through when they’re done. That’s the whole screen.
— 02
the morning after
Anything left open yesterday is offered back each morning: carry it to today, move it to the month, finish it, or let it go.
— 03
the month
A calendar of quiet dots and a list of what the month holds — for the things that belong to a date, not to today.
— 04
three tags
worklifemind— or none at all. Three is enough to know where a line belongs.
also in the drawer: search across the whole journal, and a dusk palette for both ends of the day — light and dark.
your agent · where the line sits
an assistant that reads your journal, and a journal it can’t read all of.
Those two wants are in tension, and most tools resolve it quietly — then market whichever half sounds better. Here is exactly where the line sits, and what draws it.
— 01
who can read it
Every entry carries a small label — agents or only you. Tap it to move the entry. You set the default; you change it per line. how the keys work.
— 02
bring your assistant
Connect Claude or ChatGPT in a couple of clicks: sign in, see exactly what it may read and write, approve. Nothing to paste, revocable any time.
— 03
yours to automate
A built-in MCP server — fourteen tools for querying, searching, and writing the day, plus guided daily and weekly reviews your agent can run. Tokens come full-access or read-only. what it can and can’t see.
a private entry still reaches your agent as shape — its date, its kind, whether it is done — plus a count of how many it skipped. redacted, not invisible: it can tell you that you wrote three private entries yesterday, and stop there.
four quiet beliefs
what I will not do, in particular.
— 01
no streaks. no nudges.
A journal is not a habit tracker. I will never push a notification to make you feel guilty. The only thing waiting for you when you open the app is the page.
— 02
one screen, one day.
No dashboards, no analytics, no widgets fighting for your eye. The day is the unit of attention. When you finish writing, you close the app and live in it.
— 03
a format you already know.
This grammar has worked on paper for fifteen years. I did not invent a method — I built a calm phone home for one that already works.
— 04
no padlock on what I can read.
The entries you mark for your agent, I can read — I would rather write that sentence than draw a lock over it. Every claim here names the zone it applies to, or it does not get made.
your data · where the line sits
what you share, I can read. the rest is yours alone.
Every entry is encrypted before it is stored. A private one is encrypted before it is sent — sealed in your browser, to a key I do not hold, so I cannot read it: not at any time, for anyone, on any request. The ones you mark for your agent, I can read: that is what sharing with an assistant means, and I would rather say it plainly than let a padlock imply otherwise.
no trackers
Zero analytics SDKs, zero advertising partners, zero third-party calls from your browser. Nothing measures you while you write.
no password
Sign-in is a one-time link sent to your email. There is no password to set, store, or leak.
no training
Your entries will never be read by me for curiosity, and will never be used to train a model. Not mine, not anyone’s.
delete, always
One confirmation on the Self page erases your account and every entry, tag, and token attached to it. Immediately, irreversibly.
what I keep
• your entries — encrypted; the private ones I can’t open
– your tags — work, life, mind
○ your email address — to sign you in
that is the whole list.
what I never collect
your location
your contacts
your ip address
your browsing history
advertising identifiers
analytics events
zero trackers
what this does not do
it does not protect you from me, or from anyone who compromises the application itself. your private entries are sealed before they reach it — but the code that seals them is code I send you.
The sealing happens in your browser, so a private entry’s words never reach my server. What I could still do is ship you a different build — that is the floor of any encryption delivered over the web, and naming it is the honest version. “End-to-end encrypted” is a true description of the private zone and a false one of the agent-visible zone. The privacy policy gives the full accounting.
“your journal should answer to you, and to no one else.” — the promise I build by.
begin · free while in beta
the page is ready when you are.
Still is in beta, and free while it finds its shape. Sign in with just your email — a link arrives, you tap it, and today’s page is waiting. It lives on the web now; there is an iOS build, though it is not in the App Store yet.