Arthur, My Cousin and Me

I don’t know how to detangle myself from Arthur. What follows is something like half him, half me. It’s more journal entry than elegy, but it’s what I’ve got. Remember this if and when you get to the end. To start with, some confused rambles: I felt like I knew Arthur, up until now. Then I heard what others had to say and saw what others had to feel, and I realized I've long strained myself to believe I was in more of his inner circle than I actually was. His death exposed the truth of

A marriage ends.

He realizes all the meaning he’s taken for granted, now gone. He weeps, the image of which he immediately imagines as being sympathetic. And then, immediately after that thought (i.e. that he looks worthy of sympathy while weeping), actually during that thought, he’s disgusted. A massive loss of substance, and he’s preoccupied with his image. Reflecting further: this vanity and conceit must be why his marriage ended in the first place; what he offered was thin and presentable but not sustaining. And then, another step: if his past offers were so easily invalidated, so vain, then


You’ve been of age for years, but midway to the bar you still get nervous. Walking there, it’s dark out and your jacket is too thin to block the gusts. Wet, coarse asphalt, alongside the concrete, alongside chainlink guarded baseball fields and short three-story apartment buildings. The occasional back-alley yellow cab making that dopplered paper rip noise cars make as they coast past through shallow puddles. Street-lights tinting things the rarely realistic slight-sepia of city night. At the entrance your nervousness peaks as your wallet is in motion preparing to provide identification. Why the guilt?  It&


I’m gonna lick your heart. I’m gonna floss your fingers. I’m gonna inhale. I’m gonna read your work. I’m going to pluck your apple, honey; and press its taught skin to the inflection between my nose and upper lip. I’m gonna smell your fields, and doze absentmindedly in your radiance. You’re gonna crack the igneous shell in my head and let forgotten fragrant life seep out in relieving streams of cool viscous purification that flow over my open eyes and open mouth. We’re gonna leapfrog the common vanities into a unique chaos,

A Few Memories of Bob Jones

Us grandkids called him Papa. It’s sort of absurd how many eulogies I’ve had to write recently, and there’s something obscene about how thoughts from one period of loss might be relevant to another. Your gut tells you that you shouldn’t compare, that every experience with life should be unique and pristine. But having reflected on death, love, and family so often as of late, I’ve found some repeating patterns. The first I’ll mention is that: grief is rarely the predictable, black-veiled, tear-soaked thing seen in movies. In actual practice, it’s more piecemeal

Eulogy for Pappou

Adamos Georgiou has passed away. Finally, he is allowed to rest. The obvious and uncomfortable irony of trying to memorialize him now is that he’s been gone, in truth, for a long time. The mind of the man who passed away was not that of the man who created his legacy, my family’s legacy. It is a harsh thing to point out in such a sensitive setting, but my pappou’s late condition is necessary to note in order to properly prioritize the simple, tragic, and relatively short-lived character of his later years; against the

Eulogy for Yiayia

Death is difficult. It’s hard to think about, it’s hard to watch, and it’s hard to experience. On top of all that, it’s hard to be honest about. What do you say? When my Grandma Annie died I was 20. I had lost a loved one before, but never as an adult. Losing someone as a kid is intense, but also kind of cartoonish. When you’re a kid the future is completely unknown anyway, so while a violent change in plans is rough, your plans aren’t that developed to begin with. It’s easier

Jet Lag

Woke up unusually early, six o’clock or so, the happy accident of light jet lag. Shower, teeth, fold the laundry I left in the dryer the night before. It’s still dark out, dawn is an hour away, and the wind is rolling in hard, preceding the sun. It sounds like surf, but not confined to the hearth of a beach. It’s all around, louder, sporadic, and as a result more mesmerizing than the ocean. Right after waking up, or even way after, it’s rare for me to be able to focus. In the morning I’m


Social media is a middle school cafeteria. Political post’s possible outcomes: people who already agree with you nod their head. People who don’t agree with you make themselves known. People gracefully change their minds. With some exceptional charity let’s assume you convince everyone to be on the same page, and we all end up thinking that it’s appropriate for players to (not) stand during the anthem. Then what? Nothing. Superficial problems inspire surface-level solutions. We find something else to fight about or gape at. Keep it rolling, pass the popcorn. Maybe it&

A Note To Myself

I am evolution and this is just one of my forms. The Spirit is the chain of evolution, ever better, never ending. The ideal that all which exists results from. Realized or not, you can think of the idea of a Quality human. That individual represents the best a human can do in making things better, making them persistent and sustainable and harmonious. What might it look like: imagine we are each one of the wholly spirit centipede’s infinite toes moving it forward. The idea of the best appendage would be one that did its job perfectly such

Aaron's Epitaph

What do you write about when someone you truly loved dies? Should you write anything at all? Do you write about grief? About how experiencing it changes the more you do it and with age? About how, at least for me, it goes from an uninterrupted frustrated inconsolable sadness, stuttering in air between snot and tears and sobs; to more of a pallet of emotions and ideas? A battle over whether the things you’re thinking are appropriate. Whether you’re sad enough. Whether you’re a sociopath for *not* being sad enough. Whether you’re

greatness and fame

greatness and fame. some people are famous ‘cause they’re great. some people are great, but they’re not famous. others are famous and suck. most are neither famous nor great. i once was walking down the street in Chelsea, passed a fancy hotel and saw a mob of people screaming at the increasingly shrinking space between the building’s entrance and a black SUV. i asked one of the crowd’s 13 year old lemmings who she was screaming for and why. she told me it was none of my fucking business. guess i&

jon and i messing around in the rv

i trust in the electronic eye. it sees all things and it knows what’s right. crackers and carrots, contemplating chain links and emails. johnny appleseed and john carmack playing tug of war. scratch away the pornohraphic veneer and see clear for the first time in years. love shackled behind brass battled doors of technology and habit. where is george’s tums, he’s got the runs. not fun, not fun. high dynamic range cyborg organic eyeballs to see fluorescent sunlight with. the whole fucking planet tastes like perfume. we’re trying to find others. the

artist by charles bukowski

all of a sudden I’m a painter.a girl from Galveston gives me$50 for a painting of a manholding a candycane while floating in a darkened sky. than a young man with a black beardcomes overand I sell him three for $80.he likes rugged stuffwhere I write across the painting –“shoot shit” or “GRATE ART IS HORSESHIT, BUY TACOS.” I can do a painting in 5 minutes.I use acrylics, paint right out ofthe tube.I do the left side of the paintingfirst with my left hand and thenfinish the right

The Zen of a Shitty Crowd

I recently went to a show with a shitty crowd. An outdoor venue with people sitting on the floor of the pit, pissed that others could be so rude as to think grooving in front of them was somehow appropriate. Rage that the rail didn’t have at least five feet of space per person. Disgust that a shoe or two might of been stepped on, or worse that their picnic-blanket-colonization of the limited real estate was being disregarded. Others leaving during the set, returning with entire cafeteria trays full of chicken fingers and french fries, expecting to eat

A Daydream

We kiss and our teeth clink and smash and disintegrate into each other,collecting below our floating heads in a pile of shared dust. We walk over this newfound sand, hand in hand.Eternal desert, endless horizon, two androgynous silhouettes,without nipples or genitals or mouths, pursuing the sun on the surface of mars. I sniff you into me, and your hair is pasta, my mind melted butter.A good dish, like a big broken-in leather arm chairin front of a dusty, ray-laden, library window. Night time and it’s time for the skeletons to dance,clinking like wooden


Beerful and joyful, swaying to live music, dizzy and dimpled. I open my eyes, and I where’s-waldo you on the same side of a small basement stage. I’ve seen you before, but only ever as a patron, never as a companion. Do you wanna be friends? Do you wanna dance with me and sing with me and remember that, just because you do this vocationally, doesn’t mean you can’t also do it professionally, confessionally, like me, for free. Ha! Who am I to doubt! Your authenticity was never in jeapordy. You’re a genuine woman, and


Am I tripping or am I oppressed? Are my desperations the ephemeral result of a missed cup of coffee or are they the bedrock conclusion following a hollow narrative? Are my motivations arrested by the contents of my schedule or stifled by its arrangement? What am I missing and where should I be looking for it? Am I a coward? Or an idiot? Or am I just temporarily tired? Am I investing? Or am I squandering, supported by superficial status-quo canon? Am I cranky or am I lucid?

A Place

Feet buried inches under hot sand; ass planted on a reclined beach-chair, slipping between watching the waves and sleeping; the sepia of dark glasses or the bright black back of your eyelids; optional towel over your head, accommodating if you’ve had too much sun or want to sneak a peak at a neighboring surf-bum’s bathing-suit; cold fruit from an ice-filled cooler; slightly salty lips; the refreshing relief of the right drink; and the pleasure of knowing you have nowhere to be for hours, if not days. Soon…

Something From the Journal

A sweet sadness.Disappointment, not despair.A realized risk reminding you that the game is real,and that there’s something substantial on the table. A proper bet.A contrast for both future and past accomplishment. Escapes and excuses avoided for fear of dulling a deserved pain; a pain that you need to periodically participate in.A practice that defines priority and provides perspective.A reminder to be modest, to know pride’s pitfalls.Embrace it, live in it, then move on.

Re: Humans Need Not Apply

In response to the video titled, Humans Need Not Apply, originally posted as a comment in an online conversation with a friend: A few things come to mind whenever I hear these kind of points being made. Most of them are abstract day dreams with a lot of hand waving and unsubstantiated assumptions, but they’re fun to talk about none the less, so here it goes:Economies deal with the systems for distributing and producing goods and services, right? We work to get money which we exchange for other things. Prior to currency we’d trade. And

An Italian Poem

Happy.Lover.Fun.Sweet sadness.Sun.Boating.Company.Shallow, innocent, smiles.Immovable, balanced, aimless beauty.Salty rocks and dark, clear, water.Gross, impressive, sail boats.Lighthearted, short-lived, jealousy.Virtuous, incorruptible, happiness.Minimal, intense, natural color.Neighbors.Shipwrecks.Wild, mountaintop, cactus fruit, thorns and all.Those endless clouds again…Fish flowers, dumb and delicious.Everyday a new view.Squinting, purposefully, purely.


Brands are powerful. They’re convenient containers in which we can easily pack up and pass around dense information. But there’s a catch: information loss. We throw away depth in exchange for efficiency. What does “McDonalds” mean? What does “The Swastika” symbol mean? What does “Middle Class” mean? Most arguments are the result of mis-communication; conflicting assumptions about the fundamentals of the topic being discussed. You call yourself pro-choice. I call myself pro-life. We both assume the other fits into a very stark characterization. But I agree that rape victims and

Ya' do it cause you gotta do it...

Too many people looking for prestige in their performance. Ya’ do it cause you gotta do it, cause it’s the thing you should be doing.Prestige and power is us and them. It’s isolation. More of the same.Music for music’s sake is a reminder that we are more of the same. Temporarily separated, but barreling back at break-neck speeds to the abyss of togetherness.We’re going back there, to where we came from and where we’re going to, to spend an infinite multitude of time, peacefully balancing with


When the cliff hanging over you is so dense that you’re eyes need to adjust to the sudden darkness, you know you’re in it heavy. A building, in the middle of implosion, falling toward your back, and you’ve got to out run it or die. Each direction chosen in real time, each bump dealt with through a combination of light like reflexes and weathered wisdom, all the while traveling faster than you though you could think. No options, just momentum. Perfect flow. Perfect immediacy. Truly continuous integration with the nature of the situation. Brute


Abandoned ruins appropriated as valuable, no one asks why they were abandoned in the first place. Typographic diarrhea, shallowly swooned over. Overused, under-thought, in-cohesive spew masquerading as appreciable underneath a king’s cloak of fog and smoke.The same people evangelizing detoxification, living in asbestos lined buildings built on top of broken bottles and cigarette butts.It seems something is wrong, practicing yoga in a town with no trees.Loglo selfishly employed, naively sold as a mutual benefit, warnings unheard or unheeded.Food and drink are the fun, rather than the company they used to require, but even still,

An Excerpt from "Shakey" by Jimmy McDonough

Neil Young has been remarkably consistent on the subject of songwriting over the years: It happens, I don’t understand it, I’m grateful and it’s pretty pointless to talk about it. I pity the poor fool who attempts to crack the meaning of his lyrics as if breaking a code. It can’t be done – not with Young’s help, at least, and he doesn’t care. Although he’d never put it this way, I get the feeling Neil Young views songwriting almost superstitiously, like a conjurer’s

Mindful of the Music

It’s a tragedy to see a show sitting down.Watching some nostalgia machine pump out its product in a room full of dead women and lazy boys.A single suit stands, his tie long gone along with his hair, but he doesn’t care as he dances in the open aisle.Most ignore this dude’s craziness, pretend he isn’t there, because they’ve been dead so long they don’t remember what life looks like and they are embarrassed by the void.That guy dancing in the aisle, though, he’s eternal, he’s

A Jotted Down Memory From My First Trip to New Orleans

I’m sitting in a cafe, reading “A Moveable Feast”, decompressing after a day’s work with a Sierra Nevada beer, and waiting for Tommy and Lauren to come in and join me.In the meantime, another potential love interest walks in, and I make eye contact with her, I smile, and she smiles. It happens again, and a handful of times more, but then my friends finally arrive, and I shift my concentration.I start talking with my friends and, it being the finish of my stay in New Orleans, there are a lot of

Who Cares?

No one cares that Gary Clark Jr is black. He still shreds.No one cares that Allen Stone is white. He’s still got soul.No one cares that Neil Young is pushing 70. He’s still innovating.No one cares that Brandon Niederauer “TAZ” is eleven. He’s still skilled.No one cares that Tedeschi Trucks Band is lead by a woman. They rock.No one cares that Adele has curves.She’s still making hearts bleed.No one cared that Freddie Mercury was gay-ish.Better for us that he had a four-octave

A Run

I step out of my procrastination and onto the road, ready to pick up the run I’ve been putting off. The moment I finally make it from the trap of my desk chair to the threshold of my front door, that same smell of summer and spring hits me all over again, and the motif of my life is reaffirmed. Immovable laziness floats away, replaced by motivation and lightness of mind. I’ve transitioned perspectives, and now I’m ready to ride. Ditching my headphones, I’m hoping to hear something I might of otherwise

A Little Birdy Told Me This

I’m walking down the street, trying to clear my head before bed.It’s 2AM, and I happen to hear this crazy ass bird, lost in its own home, eerily echoing its ramblings off of the brick and concrete confusion that is the city I have just moved to.Not the town I grew up in, but close to it.Anyway, I keep walking, and my attention shifts.The sweet smells of summer have begun to descend in the form of spring, bringing with them a hybrid nostalgic excitement.A feeling so familiar you can close your

About A Girl I Like

Lying nose to nose, I look into your pale, blue, bright eyes, and see them smiling at me. And I make an effort to realize that you’re a person, not just a means to satisfaction. Understanding that makes me smile, as I realize that the moment is mutual and that I am happy because you seem happy. The hand I’m holding isn’t a pawn played toward another unbuttoned fly. It’s the hand of a person, just like mine. There’s purpose, and perspective, and longing in that hand, just like in


They feign curiosity, but their only intent is to unrelentingly criticize with hollow arguments and offer unsolicited advice with unsubstantiated authority. They do this over and over again, permuting arbitrarily through unrelated topics until you are disoriented to the point of craving escape, or until every reserve of your patience has been exhausted, or both In the former case, where you feel the need to flee, they blame you for your lack of participation and the subsequent degradation of relations. They ask, with complete seriousness and obliviousness, why you never talk. In the inexcusably cruel but unrestrained explosion of your

The Holidays

I was walking from Penn. to work today, like I do everyday, but this morning was especially nice. It was cold, the sidewalks were icy and sprinkled with old snow and new salt, and the sky was perfectly blue and clear. After about 15 minutes of walking, I went into a coffee shop to get some coffee. I opened the door to the place and right as I did I got that great relieving feeling you get from walking into a heated room after being out in the cold; when warmth envelops your cold face, evaporating its numbness; and it

A Poem About Why I Love Artists

I fall for her understanding, the reality of her real,her effortless authenticity, her disregard for compromise,the way she makes me truly feel… …naive, as if this reprieve were mutual. Cause when the track stops, and the stage is struck, and the house lights and music team up to together make their nightly eviction, She is still ideal,but I am estranged. It’s so bad and sad that this singer’s songs seduce. But it sure is good to dive into being alive, and let my preoccupied mind dissolve in its surrender to her movement. ‘Cause even

Why I Read

I started reading Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace today. I bought the book a few months ago after having seen it mentioned a few times in random articles and having heard Stephen King recommend it. Now, I’ve never read anything by Stephen King. By chance, I had come across some interview he’d given where he mentioned the book, and knowing that he is a popular author and having liked what he was saying at the time (I don’t remember what it was about), I momentarily – and superficially – valued his opinion. I

A Quote from Kurt Vonnegut

Do not do so as an academic critic, nor as a person drunk on art, nor as a barbarian in the literary market place. Do so as a sensitive person who has a few practical hunches about how stories can succeed or fail.  - Kurt VonnegutMy take: Don’t do things in a cerebral vacuum; don’t assign arbitrary meaning, presuming the artist has (or doesn’t have) a license to kill; and don’t walk into the fight blind, lacking any experience, expecting to win. Instead, be humble and sensible about what’s effective.

Who I'm Looking For

…but not just any girl. Find one who’s idealistic, fun loving, generous with her smile and laugh. A girl who’s adventurous, and contemplative, and curious. A girl who knows how to be a ladyand a child and a man, too. A girl who’s smart and knows aboutsome of the things I know about andsome of the things I don’t. A girl who dances, because she needs to. A girl who remembers how to imagine,so she can remind me when I forget. (Do the same for her.) A girl whose heart

Cynic's Antidote

Just got back from the Mountain Jam and Bonnaroo music festivals, and I’m so happy. I was thinking today after work, about how fun it was running around on Hunter Mountain in the rain and the Bonnaroo farm in the heat, and also how almost all of the people I met were so loving to me and similarly interested in the things I liked. The daydream continued throughout my walk to the train and I had a bit of a personal revelation: If you’re attracted to someone – anyone – then “the everybody” can&

It's Raining in Love by Richard Braughtigan

I don’t know what it is, but I distrust myself when I start to like a girl     a lot. It makes me nervous. I don’t say the right things or perhaps I start   to examine,                      evaluate,                                     compute   what I am saying. If I say, “Do you think it’s going to rain?” and she says, “I don’t know,” I start thinking:    Does she really like me? In other words I get a little creepy. A friend of mine once said, “It’s twenty times better to be friends    with someone than it is to be in love

I hope I never get so wise that the seasons are no longer a surprise.

I love how no matter how many times I go through it, it’s always new. Not needing a jacket to go outside. That sweet heat smell that goes hand in hand with spring and summer. Trees being green. Thinking the ski season is, sadly, done forever. Watching the beach slowly become inviting. Remembering how much I love swimming, and surfing, and flying my kite; and thinking about how it’s been practically infinite time since I last did. It never getting dark. God, it’s all so awesome. A similar thing happens going into winter, too,

A Defense of Literature

The universe is huge. Time is impossibly vast. Trillions of creatures crawl and swim and fly through our planet. Billions of people live, billions came before us, and billions will come after. We cannot count, cannot even properly imagine, the number of perspectives and variety of experiences offered by existence. We sip all of this richness through the very narrowest of straws: one lifetime, one consciousness, one perspective, one set of experiences. Of all the universe has, has had, and will have to offer, we can know only the tiniest fraction. We are alone and minuscule and our lives are

Faith In The World

I’m in the process of reading “Style; Lessons in Clarity and Grace”. It’s a book about how to create good prose, focusing on a set of tips that tend to produce rich and impactful writing, and by providing examples that illustrate each point. Some of those examples are obviously crafted for the purpose of demonstrating the author’s ideas, but others were taken from already existing and excellent pieces of literature. One such quote was not only a masterpiece of English, but also contained a powerful, thought-provoking idea. The passage was originally from

Note to Self.

If you’re constantly looking at yourself in the mirror, expecting some change in appearance to produce a change in confidence, then you’re indirectly associating appearance with excellence. Excellence — whether it’s physical, conversational, sexual, or otherwise — is not correlated to appearance. This is my conflict, because I’ve always been self-conscious of my appearance (I struggle with weight), yet at the same time hold it in such low rank among what I consider to be indicative of awesomeness. Beyond the cliché undertone of such a claim, I’ve proved this to myself time and time again, yet the

Thought or Emotion; Which Comes First?

I’m having trouble telling if emotions precede or follow events, when those events are things you’re remembering or anticipating – in other words, thinking about the past or the future. For stuff that’s happening now, it seems pretty obvious that emotions follow the events. For example, you land a new trick, you feel good; you don’t follow through on something, you feel bad. But for things that have already happened or for things you’re expecting to happen, it seems to me to be more of a “chicken and the

Jack White.

Jack White is an interesting fellow. He’s someone I’ve never met personally, but interesting none the less. At least, he got me thinking… among other things. I got the chance to see one of his shows this past Sunday, and initially wasn’t too stoked on it. I had had a long night the night prior, seeing Neil Young, The Black Keys, and The Foo Fighters tear it down in Central Park — life is rough, what can I say. Anyway, I got the call from a friend that he had the extra Jack White tickets, and I had

Labels, Love, and Sex.

I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships and how intense they can be. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how there are different labels for popular types of relationships, and how certain fringe-type relationships don’t have labels and are harder to talk about, precisely. For example, most of us have some people in our lives that we would label as family; specifically, you might have a brother or a sister, a mom and a dad, etc. There are other people that are labeled as friends. Others still labeled as partners, coworkers, girlfriends, boyfriends, etc. All these labels imply

Optical Implants and Evolution

Here’s some cool technology: an optical implant that trans-codes visual stimulus into the format that the cells in your eye expect, rather than just increasing the magnitude of the signal. The technology is in its infancy right now, but it sets the stage for some really awesome progress, in the realm of helping the disabled, but also enhancing the average. Imagine being able to replace your stock eye hardware with something that could produce twice the resolution. Basically, what if you could undergo a procedure that took your vision from 20/20 to 20/10, or 20/1?

Ben Graham and High Frequency Trading

Just read Ben Graham’s book, “The Intelligent Investor” which taught me a lot about investing, specifically about the logical divide between speculation and value-investing. It was really insightful.Armed with that knowledge, and having my curiosity stirred by all the opportunities being offered to software developers in High Frequency Trading, I started thinking about HFT field and how it relates to Graham’s principles. Trying to make a long story short: given the little I know about HFT, the two don’t jive. HFT is based on inefficiencies in the market place, and can

First things, first.

There have been a lot of topics on my writing queue lately, but wanted to start off with an idea I’ve been ping-ponging with my rediscovered friend, Jude Safo.The topic in question is choice and how it manifests itself. In a recent conversation, Jude brought up this Freudian principle: the idea that the unconscious mind comes into contact with a near infinite amount of stimuli, filters it, and then propagates high level concepts to our conscious mind. Thinking about it from a software engineer’s perspective, this explanation involves a lot of hand waving. For example,

"The Invitation" by Oriah

Was at a wedding and the officiant read this poem during the ceremony. I thought it was really powerful, so I asked her for the source. Thought I’d share it here… The Invitation by Oriah  It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know  if you will risk  looking like a fool for love for your dream for the adventure of being


I’m trying to figure out how to use Facebook non-narcassitically. I feel like a large part of what I’ve recently posted has been too “look-at-me” and shallow… I think Facebook is a tool, and, aside from logistical stuff like event planning, it’s best used to share beautiful, mutually beneficial, and inspiring things: meaningful photos, art, yet-to-be-answers questions, postulates, etc.  Too often, though, I use it to as a naive way to satisfy a craving for self-affirmation and an outlet for pride. I find myself taking place in idle and increasingly boastful

Bansky on Advertising

People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriends feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you. You, however, are forbidden


Today, I went skydiving.I’m going to try and get something insightful out of my head while it’s still fresh, but I doubt that’ll work very well, considering the whole thing has been a blur from the second I got on that plane… My buddy Charlie and I have been sending videos of BASE jumpers, skydivers, and wing-suit fliers – pretty much anything involving terminal velocity, gravity, and a parachute – back and forth to one another, for the past 6 months or so. In print, it’s always been the next

Einstein's Watch - An Exploration of Empathy

A post by reddit user, johnnynottoscale, originally found here: Quoted here and shared with author’s explicit permission.em·pa·thy/ˈempəTHē/ : the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner; also : the capacity for this. Einstein maintained a healthy skepticism towards concepts. On the subject of scientific theories he wrote: “Physical concepts

No. Fucks. Given.

Written by some random dude on the internets: Have you ever played any RPGS, like Final Fantasy? You, real life you, are the protagonist of this story. Everyone, and I mean everyone else is a [Non Player Character]. Your mom is an NPC, your boss is an NPC, every stranger on the street is an NPC. Hell, even your shitty little cat is an NPC. Now, how much do the NPCs really affect you? NPCs are never the story, my friend, they only exist to help you move the story along. Your story. So if you screw up, or feel

Breaking Down Some Language; Because Mysterious Doesn't Mean Wise

If everything that is discussable can be defined as an instance of a concept, where we define concept as the encapsulation of many complimentary ideas into a consistently recognizable pattern, then the Zen idea of duality becomes definable. I came across this idea while reading Shunryu Suzuki’s “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind”. He talks about how the mind and body are both eternal and finite, simultaneously; he describes this phenomenon through a metaphor calling mind and body “two sides of the same coin”. I find this kind of language both confusing, frustrating, and misleading. I also find it ubiquitous,

Flushing the toilet while you're sitting on it is like betting it all on red; it can go either way...

Workplace bathroom behavior would make for an awesome case study. We spend 7+ hours at a place where we carefully maintain our social interactions, trying to optimize for very idiosyncratic professional goals, but one thing we all have in common: we all poop. And given the amount of coffee that gets consumed in highly competitive New York firms, I imagine this reality manifests itself quite frequently. That being said, we don’t talk about it! I’m not trying to say that the topic should be the lunchtime conversation of choice, but merely noting that there’s

What Else Does/Can Google Know?

I wonder if Google gets enough private data from corporate users accidentally pasting snippets of proprietary information into their search bars, to come up with some sort of snapshot of a company’s private inner workings. Undoubtedly they do for individuals, but I imagine that information is much more comprehensive; for example, if I constantly search for glutton-free recipes, Google can likely infer that I, or someone I know, has a restricted diet for what can assumed to be one or a small set of reasons. But at work, at least for me, the things I search for are

Letter to Me

There is so much potential in the world. If you constantly demonstrate this fact to yourself, you will be forever happy. By realizing that anything we can “know” is founded on belief, which is itself subjective – in the sense that it varies from person to person – then you realize that there is no monopoly on righteousness, ever. All you can ever hope to do is be as happy as possible in the moment. Combine this idea with the realization that everything is in motion, and you come to understand that any interpretation of righteousness has to

Personal vs. Impersonal Relationships

There seems to be this implicit direct relation of a relationship’s quality and the closeness of the people involved, where the latter is measured through properties like the total amount of one-to-one interaction between people, the degree to which people are genetically related, or the actual amount of physical closeness (i.e. proximity) the people involved share. I’m starting to think this assumption isn’t as true as I once thought.  For example, one of my favorite sets of musicians is Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Besides the fact that I think their music

Quick Note to Self

There are certain things you wish to do in life that are difficult, as they require persistent forfeit of short term pleasure in exchange for long term accomplishment. There are also other things you wish to avoid; things that (supposedly) yield short term pleasure, but at the expense of long term suffering. In order to make progress in either of these endeavors, you need focus, and the only way to gain focus is by practice. Anything can count as practice; as long as you stay focused on a specific goal and try – however painstakingly – to accomplish that goal,

Thailand Notes (Part 4)

In hindsight, I still haven’t found the proper way for how to express this idea just yet, but you got to start somewhere… Competition and Self Reflection When you’re submersed in a population you’re familiar with, it’s easy to recognize so called “mistakes” other people make because it’s easy to see yourself in other people. What I’m learning is that when the opposite occurs – in other words, when you’re submersed in a population that completely clashes with your sense of normalcy –

Thailand Notes (Part 3)

Slight backstory: since the music festival I went to in early June, I haven’t been drinking, making me sober for about a month and two weeks since the writing of this post. Since then, the decision has been both highly difficult to stick to and increasingly interesting to contemplate, especially as I make it further than I ever thought I would. By the time I got to Thailand, multiplied by all the other self-reflection I was doing, drinking became the topic of choice for a car ride brain-dump, which is what I’m posting here. I should

Thailand Notes (Part 2)

Everything Is Linked To Everything. That’s karma and I believe in it, but that doesn’t mean that every action has a significant correlation to every other subsequent action. Wishing something might happen and actually having that something happen may in fact have some (whatever little) correlation, but that doesn’t mean - all other conditions the same - if you didn’t wish for it to happen, that result wouldn’t occur anyway. There could be a much more correlated action tied to that reaction, and the degree to which two things are

Thailand Notes (Intro & Part 1)

Intro So while in Thailand, I did a lot of self-reflection; went through a lot of experiences that tested my endurance, both physically and mentally; and also spent a lot of time traveling in the car. Combined, these things lead to a lot of brain-dumps which – thanks to my Uncle Frank for his graduation-gifted iPad – I was able to write down. I think they might interest some people, plus I’d like to refine their grammar and structure, as well store the ideas somewhere more persistent than the iPad’s local hard drive. So, plan-to-be: I&

Perhaps the Poor Are Better Suited for Progressing Toward Enlightenment

Just a small braindump: I was just thinking that if the route out suffering is to become both objectively aware of sensation and simultaneously to eradicate conditioning, then the people who are less able to respond to the most primal conditioning (e.g. hunger, thirst, etc.) have a more natural inclination to not react to their cravings. Whereas in The States, our my cravings tend to be for more abstract things (e.g., ice cream, video games, kinky sex, etc.) most of which I can (and am often encouraged by my surroundings) to satisfy.

Evangelizing Truth

Let’s say, hypothetically, a person becomes enlightened to the true nature of the universe and such an understanding frees said person from all forms suffering. This person is no longer blindly conditioned to respond to craving or aversion, and they have a comprehensive knowledge of human experience at it’s lowest level. They understand pure balance, live life in consistent peace, and see beauty everywhere they go. Fantastic. This is the type of enlightenment that I’ve heard wise people lecture about and that my experience in life, however limited, has lead me to believe is


Being a brand designer and a marketer I have somewhat of a cynical and skeptical perspective on the validity of how large organizations are personified, both through their own efforts and the media – the U.S. government, definitely being on that list. It’s not so much that I think there’s always an intentional disconnect made between reality and how these organizations present themselves, but when a system becomes large enough, trying to pin it down with simple definitions or elegant equations just becomes plain difficult; keeping track of all the variables at play is just

Defining the Utility of Design

I recently went through some of my old work and reread a piece I wrote on my past influences in graphic design. The piece in its entirety was slightly arbitrary, having needed to meet certain requirements put forth by a professor, but the introduction I wrote for it seemed more modular than the entire piece and might be of interest to some other people. I also wanted to have it somewhere public where I could reference it in other work. It’s reproduced below:  Design is an elusive activity to define. It carries the ambiguity and beauty of art

Custom Tastypie Nested (Model) Resources For Dealing with Django ORM Relations

Background So I spent 6pm Saturday night, till 9:30am Sunday morning in a hackathon where I worked on, you guessed it, tastypie; specifically, on work concerning an open source project I’m involved with, Concert. Long story short, Concert had an issue. It’s a very javascript heavy app, which handles a lot of state information client-side. Because of this, we’re using a MVC-like javascript framework called Backbone.js, which abstracts away a lot of the interaction between our server-side django app and the client-side code.   Traditionally, django apps end up being their own flavored

Technology-Nature Dynamic

So, I was hesitant on posting this, thinking it might be too arbitrary or not well enough articulated, but since I’m treating these articles as a set of journal entries more so than traditional blog posts, I’m going to go with it… Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about mindfulness, and the practice of such has been my routine for the past couple of weeks. It’s helped me tremendously, in terms of overcoming my addictions (mainly, food) and just seeing the world in a clearer light. However, as I write this

Revolutionizing Education

So there have been countless observations made about the failures of the current school system. Whether it be grading brackets crippling student motivation, homogonized material simultaneously boring and intimidating kids, or structured curriculum snuffing out creativity, the problem has been articulated over and over again. What hasn’t been talked about so much is the solution, and today I believe I’ve found it; not thought of it myself, but literally found it: The idea, for those who didn’t watch the video, is that you break all the topics of traditional schooling into short (12min) incremental

First Post

The entire reason for my starting this blog was because I kept having ideas and pseudo-epiphanies about different topics – e.g., programming, philosophy, etc. -  would write them down in my phone or on my white board, only to have them disappear into the oblivion, after time. So the obvious solution: start a blog. But once I had the thing set up, it took a while (today) until I had another rush of that special kind of brain activity that might constitute a post. Anyway, I’m leaving this here as a starting point and somewhat of an