Who I Am
I’m one person, one patch of internet turf at chipvongunten.com. I write books, make music, and run a small shop out of the same desk. You read, listen, click, and occasionally buy things. Somewhere between your clicks and my coffee, data gets passed around. That’s the trade-off for living in the digital jungle. Here’s exactly what moves, and where it goes.
Comments
If you drop a comment, I collect what you hand over: your words, your IP, and your browser’s calling card. Nothing shady — just the usual ritual to keep the spam bots at bay. If you use Gravatar, that service might flash your face next to your words. Their rules live at automattic.com. Once I approve your comment, your picture goes public in that context. Consider it graffiti on the wall — permanent, unless I paint over it.
Media
If you upload images, strip the GPS data first unless you’re cool with strangers knowing where you took that photo. The web’s already got too many digital peeping Toms.
Cookies
Yeah, I use cookies. Not the kind you dunk in milk — the kind that remembers your name, email, and cart so you don’t have to fill it out again. Comment cookies hang around about a year. Log in and a few more tag along: login cookies last two days, display choices about a year, and “Remember Me” sticks for two weeks unless you log out — in which case, poof. The shop keeps cart and checkout cookies so the register remembers what’s in your basket while you browse. No personal data in those. Just the ghosts of your own clicks.
The Shop
When you order from the shop — even a free download — I get your email address and what you ordered. For a free download, your email is the delivery truck: it’s how the file reaches you. If you ever buy something paid here, the money is handled by Stripe. Your card number goes to them, never to me — I don’t see it, I don’t store it, I don’t want it.
Some books on this site are sold through Amazon. Click one of those and you’ve walked into their house; their rules apply to that purchase.
The Inner Circle
Join the Inner Circle and your email rides a small bridge from this site to my list on Substack, where the letters get sent from. You’ll get a welcome note, then the occasional letter — new work, shop news, the good stuff. Every letter carries an unsubscribe link. Use it and you’re out, no hard feelings and no dark patterns.
Merch
Merch is made to order by print partners (Printful). To make and ship your order, they get what a shipping label needs: your name, your address, and what you bought. That’s all it’s for.
Counting Visits
I use Google tools to count visits to this site — how many people showed up, which pages they read, roughly where they came from. Aggregate numbers, the kind a shopkeeper gets from watching the door. Google’s rules govern their side of that glass.
Embedded Content
Sometimes I drop in videos and players from other sites — YouTube, mostly. Interact with one and it’s like you’ve walked into their house. They might track you or log you. That’s between you and them.
Who I Share Your Data With
The services named above, for the jobs named above — and nobody else. I don’t sell your data, trade it, or pass it around. If you ask to reset your password, your IP sneaks into that email. Nothing dramatic, just a trace of where the request came from.
How Long I Keep It
Comments hang around indefinitely, so I can recognize you next time without tossing your words into moderation purgatory. Order records I keep as long as a business has to keep its books — tax and legal reasons, the boring kind. If you register an account, your profile info stays yours to edit or delete whenever you like (except the username — that one sticks).
Your Rights
Got an account, left a comment, placed an order, or joined the list? You can ask me for a copy of all the data I’ve got on you, and you can tell me to delete it. Write to me here and I’ll comply — unless some bureaucratic law insists I hang onto a piece of it for security or legal reasons.
Where Your Data Goes
Comments might get scanned by an automated spam filter before landing on the page. It’s all part of the great digital battle against garbage.