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Something happened to attention.
It used to be something we gave freely. To the right people, to the right ideas and to moments that mattered to us or to those around us. Now it’s mined, sliced up, and sold off to the highest bidder. Everyone wants it attention. No one really has it. And when you do get some, it’s already halfway somewhere else.
Momentarily™ is a small attempt to give attention back
its value by self monetizing my attention for control over my own anatomy and time, away from corporations.
Here’s the premise:
∙ You pay $5.
∙ Pick any minute between 9 a.m. and 9 p.m.
∙ When your minute shows up, I kill my tabs, mute the universe, and spend 30 full seconds thinking only about you or whatever half-baked startup you’re birthing.
Timer dies. I blast you an email: raw brain runoff, praise, gripes, weird metaphors, possibly a grocery reminder that snuck in, possibly a film recommendation you'll never watch.
All you know is, there will be no templates or no expectation of what you might recieve.
Here’s what that means:
∙ One fixed price. One real thought. One time.
∙ Traded directly from vendor to you.
∙ A product made of attention — not content.
∙ Something that feels small, but isn’t.
∙ You may love it, You may hate me after it.
It’s dumb. It’s sincere. It's reverse capitalism? I think.
So kindly, reserve your moment.
I look forward to thinking of you.
— Lovish Saini
Creator of Momentarily
Back
Something happened to attention.
It used to be something we gave freely — to people,
to ideas, to moments that mattered. Now it’s mined, sliced up, and sold off. Everyone wants it. No one really has it. And when you do get some, it’s already halfway somewhere else.
Momentarily™ is a small attempt to give attention back its value by self monetizing my attention for control over my own anatomy and time.
Here’s the premise:
∙ You pay $5.
∙ Pick any minute between 9 a.m. and 9 p.m.
∙ When your minute shows up, I kill my tabs, mute the universe, and spend 30 full seconds thinking only about you or whatever half-baked startup you’re birthing.
Timer dies. I blast you an email: raw brain runoff, praise, gripes, weird metaphors, possibly a grocery reminder that snuck in, possibly a film recommendation you'll never watch.
All you know is, there will be no templates or no expectation of what you might recieve.
Here’s what that means:
∙ One fixed price. One real thought. One time.
∙ Traded directly from vendor to you.
∙ A product made of attention — not content.
∙ Something that feels small, but isn’t.
∙ You may love it, You may hate me after it.