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Bursting stovepipes creates an intellectual explosion, but it’s short-lived. You don’t get scenius without tribes, but you also don’t get it without potlatches. The periodic nature of the potlatch is necessary, & so is the discarding of material work.

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What is happiness?
After questioning myself on the meaning of life—something I still do, by the way—I long settled that, regardless of what it might be, living a happy life and aiming to be happy is what life is all about. Happiness, though, isn’t a fixed thing. Just like the many avatars of gods, their many incarnations, happiness comes from many sources, and is often found in subtle contexts throughout life. It is not absolute, and its definition may vary from person to person: what brings me happiness migh 
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“maddening beating of vile drums” - heart, check.↔”thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes” - breath, check.↔”outside the ordered universe” - past heat death, check.↔Conclusion: Live long enough and you get to be Azathoth.

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Javascript is a just-OK language saddled with the world’s worst graphics toolkit: three distinct languages, each with specs so large that nobody has written a new implementation in 20 years, for live-editing a rich tech document to make it resemble a canvas, in ways that are not portable between the 3 implementations or minor revisions of the same implementation.

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Areas of transience – the hyperspace of psychogeography – are not ‘non-places’ with ‘non-culture’. They have a uniquely warped kind of culture, in the same way tourist-dependent places do, except some people spend their lives in it (long haul truckers or jet-setting businessmen).

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In an equitable society, social problems are a matter of individual choice. We don’t live in such a society, and never have. If we want to, we should be honest about this. Pretending to have achieved equity is a good way to amplify shitty power relations.

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secret passages in your memory palace, left there for no reason you’d remember↔a mirror room, consciousness amplifier↔a shed in the garden, where an old tulpa lives↔doors that have become mere paintings, the memories they lead to either lost or fake

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Grandfather has left us
Grandfather died today.

Kim was very close to him because she lived with her grandparents since she was young, until we got married. Back in Vietnam, when she was in elementary school, grandpa took her and her siblings to school, and picked them up in his bicycle every day. He was more than a grandfather to her. He was, throughout her life, a father figure.

Grandpa was a soft spoken man. I never heard him raise his voice, never saw him mad. He was also a man of little wants; 
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