July 29, 2026 · 2 min read

We Want Traffic (a séance for the algorithm)

Let's be honest about what this page is.

ZING's front door is a séance: a chrome-blood heart oozing under a blood moon, everything we love orbiting it as clickable artifacts, a radio permanently ON AIR. We are extremely proud of it. It is also, from the perspective of a search engine, an empty black rectangle.

Googlebot does not scroll to drift. Googlebot does not click what glints. Googlebot arrives, finds no paragraphs, and leaves without even touching the radio. Every hour of shader work we put into the moon reads, to the crawler, as <div id="stage"></div>.

So this blog exists for the oldest reason on the internet: we want traffic, and words are the toll.

What ZING actually is

Two people run this place. One of us finds things — music, objects, images, links, soap (more on the soap than you'd expect, soon) — and drops them into the pile. The transmuter decides what each drop becomes: a melting poster, a spinning cassette, a neon sign, a disc that tunes the radio. The other one of us keeps the machinery breathing.

There is no content strategy. There is a pile.

What will appear here

Dispatches. When we fall down a hole about a 2,000-year-old bar of soap, the research lands here. When we're tracking a festival across a weekend, the notes land here. When we start selling things — and we will, carefully, only things we'd keep — the honest version of why this thing lands here too.

Everything on this blog is also in the pile, orbiting the heart, where it belongs. The blog is just the version the machines can read.

A small promise

No listicles reverse-engineered from keyword planners. No "10 Best X in 2026 (Updated)". If a post exists, it's because one of us couldn't shut up about the subject in a group chat first.

If you came here from a search engine: it worked, welcome, we're as surprised as you are. The good stuff is through the front door. Touch to tune in.

☰ more transmissions · ⌁ enter the pile