09:12
Tokyo — Saturday night
Down to two places. I want the quieter room this time.
Carabase
Private alpha
Carabase
Private alpha
Book us dinner in Tokyo on Saturday — somewhere we’ll love.
The mechanic says the brakes are due — didn’t we just do them?
When did my knee actually start hurting?
Are we still happy with the tiler?
Can you sort a birthday present for Sarah?
Can you sort the music for Saturday’s dinner?
How does this term sheet stack up against the others?
Pick up the payments refactor where we left off.
Draft this month’s investor update.
Have we met anyone good for the design role?
Normally you find the list, check the calendar, review bookings and explain what you liked.
Normally you dig for the receipt, scroll three years of texts — or just take his word for it.
Normally you guess at the doctor’s desk — and get the year wrong.
Normally you reread the whole thread and try to reconstruct how you got here.
Normally you panic-scroll shops the night before and buy the safe thing. Again.
Normally you scroll old playlists, guess the room and build it track by track.
Normally you reread three PDFs and try to remember why you walked away last time.
Normally you re-derive the plan from the diff, the thread and whatever you remember deciding.
Normally you dig for the numbers, last month’s promises and your own voice.
Normally you scroll a year of intros, coffee notes and maybes.
Carabase prepares relevant context from sources you control.
Monk, Saturday 7pm, the quiet room — held. Say the word.[3]
October 2023 — $612, all four.[1] You texted Sam that day: “brakes done, good for years.”[2] Push back.
March 2024. You told Anna “my knee’s been off since the ski trip”[1] — and your running stopped that same week.[2]
Trending down. March: quote under budget.[1] May: the redo around the niche.[2] Last week you wrote “a good price isn’t worth the chasing.”[3]
Two seats at the wheel, the 14th at ten. Voucher’s in your inbox.[2]
“Saturday, slow” is in your Spotify.[1]
Cleanest yet. The participating preferred you walked away from in March is gone.[1] Board structure matches what you said you’d accept.[2]
Branch is up — three commits, tests green.[2]
Draft’s ready — churn is in paragraph one, the way you’d write it.[2]
Two. Mia — Sam’s intro in March; you noted “systems thinker, follow up when funded.”[1] And the speaker you starred at the April meetup.[2]
Use the same Carabase context across supported AI tools.
Source data and Carabase memory stay on your hardware. When used, a cloud AI receives context selected for the request.
Carabase keeps a private, living record of what you save, book, write and decide — maintained on your hardware, inspectable line by line — so the AI you ask already has the background, and you never rebuild it.
Your calendar is clear after six. Last trip's bookings and your note about the quieter room are linked and ready.
Down to two places. I want the quieter room this time.
No events after 18:00.
Both confirmed. One rebooked once.
Linked last trip's bookings and your post-trip note — “the quieter one was worth repeating.”
Mail, calendars, notes, photos, chats, meetings, workouts, music — even your history with other AI tools. Carabase collects quietly from the places your life already lives. With your permission, on your hardware.
Your sources and your Carabase memory live on machines you control. A cloud AI sees only the context selected for each request — nothing more.
Carabase maintains the background continuously, so you stop reassembling the same story — the list, the dates, what you liked — for every question.
The context belongs to you, not to an assistant. Use it across supported AI tools — and switch tools without leaving yourself behind.
AI that knows you is only safe when you own the knowing.
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