I finally read The Why of Newsletters by Robin Rendle. A great, quick, and beautiful read. You should click on the link and spend a few minutes and then come back, but if I were to summarize the piece:

1. Newsletters are easy to write.
2. They have an automatic notification system.
3. They have a built in payment mechanism.

Websites are missing all three, but that is a choice. There are solutions to (1) that could be popularized. We all know RSS is great for (2), but maybe it needs to be built into a place we already go, like the browser, to have the same advantages of email. But I think (3) is trickier and the solutions further off–for some reason, we’re perfectly ok with an email model where folks can and do forward paid newsletters all the time (and often have a weblink that only offers security through obscurity to read a copy of a newsletter), but afraid to have website payment structures that are as easy to circumvent.

The unspoken part of all this is the impact of Google Reader. I still know very smart people who loved Google Reader and have refused or bounced off of other RSS-based reading systems. That includes folks who are not using social media as an RSS replacement. I don’t know that solving (2) and (3) in Google Reader would have worked, but it sure feels like mainstream weight behind RSS in the form of Google Reader had power. I have often wondered if Firefox had kept marketshare and used Pocket less as a “save this part of the web” and more as a “read the web better in a stream” if that may have helped.

I’m frustrated by the rise of newsletters. I’m thrilled to be able to read great content and follow an author ¹. But I really don’t want your writing in my email inbox. The design of all newsletters is very same-y and lacking in personality, although at least they all tend to have an ok reading experience. The length of newsletters feels all wrong–I feel as though many paid newsletters feel the need to write significantly longer pieces to justify their cost. I’d prefer shorter pieces, even if it meant more of them. My own blog is chronological within a day, because I think of my writing here as an ongoing journey within a day of what I’m dong and thinking (a… web log, if you’ll indulge me), and I’d rather read a few ordered 250-500 word thoughts than once a week be hit with your 3000 word news magazine think-piece that would never be bought by a news magazine. And lastly, I can’t say that I think any of the common middleware providers here, mostly Substack, are places I want to spend a lot of money. I’m disappointed more people aren’t using solutions like Ghost. I hope that Automattic would do some cool stuff with Tumblr in this direction.

I guess it doesn’t really matter to me in the end–I use a funky email address provided by Feedbin, which gets all those newsletters into my RSS reader of choice (Reeder), and I get to enjoy more writing from people I’m interested in following. But it is bizarre to see the writing revolution happening from within closed, centralized platforms using a weird open platform (email) for distribution while the web is sitting right there.

After presenting at the annual conference of the Colorado Association of School Business Officials (on equity-based budgeting), I got to stick around for a weekend in Vail about a week post peak foliage. No complaints about being back on the road for work.

I thought there was no way I’d notice the higher refresh rate on the iPhone 13 Pro. I don’t notice it at all on my iPad Pro, so I really didn’t think it’s a big deal. But it’s quite noticeable on the smaller screen. I think I like it, but I absolutely can understand why some people will turn this off. There’s a bit of an uncanny valley effect, not unlike high frame rate video.

Do I think this is worth buying a phone for? No. Do I think I’d notice it after a couple of days? Probably not. I bet I could switch back to a phone without the higher refresh rate and not notice it. But the difference is real, noticeable, and nice.

In the early days of the internet, my hope was to be noticed. I wanted people to respond to a forum post. I wanted people to recognize my handle and know who I was and where I came from. I wanted to construct an identity among strangers that was meaningful and respected. I was a teenager, and what more does a teenager want than acceptance by peers and adults alike as a member? But there was another difference–I was speaking within a community of strangers.

During this time when I’m turning down the dial on social media feeds, I wonder: do I still want to be noticed? Frankly, being noticed seems to be a nightmare.

But it’s hard to build communities on top of a globally shared commons. On the classic college quadrangle you might put down a blanket and stake out a spot under a tree with friends. You might setup a table for a club or group with signs and materials and goodies to attract others. You might be projecting loudly making a statement looking to net in passerbys. Social media believes that it is creating this type of public commons ¹.

The problem is that social media is overcrowded, so the separation into smaller communities is hard to maintain. Worse than that, social media wants to be crowded. Social media makes its money when we’re jammed packed in just a few huge crowds. So the tools they provide on their platform are designed specifically to draw in bystanders and to amplify each individual voice so that it bleeds into every surrounding community. Everyone is close together, everyone is shouting, and everyone participates in simultaneously overlapping communities.

We don’t have “rooms” or “boards” or “channels”–we have the feed. I think this is a huge part of why Slack, Discord, and Twitch have found popularity for social use. They are designed to be smaller communities and they provide some organizational power within those communities to find a space on the quad where you can engage in exactly the activity you want. You can actually tell what community you’re trying to be a part of and gain acceptance through participating in what that community values.

What does my feed value? Why does anyone talk to me as an individual communicating across many non-overlapping communities that I want to be noticed by? How do I find my way into any of those spaces? And, importantly, in a world that feels increasingly isolated and lonely to me,² how do I find a supportive community?

I used to defend the relationships I built online as “real”, scoffing at the idea that there was anything lesser about my “virtual” friends and community. I was right then. I couldn’t take that same stance about the internet we have now.

If my goal is to build community, I need to make that my project. The tools we have make participation wholly insufficient. I think I need to find ways to translate weak ties into meaningful bonds by taking the budding friendships and community out of the social commons. That may mean taking the step to find a way to meet in person, or getting an email address, or getting on a video call or something. Maybe it means finding a way to work together. But social media has taught me to collect as many weak ties as possible with no mechanism to bring them together into community.

This tweet was originally embedded but has been replaced with a screenshot due to changes in the Twitter service

Some things happening now:

• Weight loss has gone well since returning to the gym in April 2021. I am about as fit as I’ve ever been in my adult life. I’m not feeling a lot of strain with keeping up with my physical health, so I’m hoping to keep this rolling, permanently. For whatever reason, this time everything is working.
• That vacation to Tulum was both great and terrible – we got away, we rode bikes, we hung out on the beach, and we ate some great food. It was nice to be active somewhere else. But for days during that trip I had a sinking feeling. Anxiety? Stress? I’m not sure. But I found the idle time challenging, and I think overall my feeling was, “Uh oh, that’s a lot of emotional weight from the past year and a half and I think it’s all catching up right now.”
• So this summer has been mentally hard. I’ve had good days and bad days. I’ve been meditating lately, and I think maybe that’s helping. But the whole pandemic has been hard and the delta variant snatching away what normalcy I was starting to feel has been devastating.
• We’re going on more vacations, and I’m quite excited, because I’ve learned the alternative is a greater risk to my health right now.
• I picked up the pace of reading this summer and it feels great.
• I’ve logged out and deleted the Twitter apps (and all tweets, which happens after 60 days anyway). I’ve reduced some of my RSS subscriptions. I turned off easily finding my archives on the blog. This is not meant to be permanent, just seeking some additional quiet. I need a reset. I am allowing too many things out of my control to impact my emotions.

Feel free to email me if you’d like to correspond and you don’t have my phone number.

Here are a couple of recent dog pictures.

Previous Now Page

The failure of federal rent relief is a great demonstration of what happens when the law and policy is written without consideration for bureaucratic capacity. If we want government to be effective, we need to ask government, “What are you most capable of doing today to solve this problem?” If we don’t like that answer, we need to simultaneously fund government do what they can and fund government to build future capacity more in line with what is needed.

Reform often comes after failure, but disconnected from the funding and immediate policy objective. Imagine if while we funded expanded unemployment, we also funded states to have better systems for direct deposit access, Postal Service banking to have universal access to consumer banking needs, and dramatically changed the complexity of qualifying for unemployment.

I’m not sure what the equivalent is for rent, but there are clearly systems, capacities, and relationships government simply does not have that makes rent assistance virtually impossible. If we don’t like that, we need to fix it for the next crisis.

The failure of so much leftist, activist politics is a complete disinterest in making government better at its job and caring about the details of governing. We’re so busy worrying about ideological purity that fights over actual policy become purely symbolic– even when you win, it turns out our government cannot do what you want well.

And so the cycle begins as the right points out ineptitude as though that’s an inevitable, permanent feature of any government action.

We need to make government work well while we can ask government to do more. It can’t be either/or.

Some sequels are strong because they’re a continuation of an unfinished story. Some pull forward C-plot characters to tell a new story.

Few sequels take place after a “complete” story and picks up with the same characters to deliver another great, complete story.

The Hidden Palace achieves this.

I have never been the member of a social bookclub. It’s kind of strange, because reading is one of the few activities I have always made time for. ¹

The thing is reading is fundamentally asocial for me. I enjoy reading or listening to criticism on books I’ve read, but mostly, I enjoy reading and thinking about things myself. I don’t want to be an active participant in literary criticism. I read to learn and I read to feel. So much of my fiction reading, and really my consumption of all creative works, is about having a meaningful emotional experience without vocalization or analysis. So much of my non-fiction reading is about trying out ideas and hearing the steel man argument from someone I have no personal or emotional relationship with.

I don’t really want to be in a bookclub. I don’t want to have to find words to express why Piranesi was beautiful, or the meaning I found in The Hidden Palace , or how The Midnight Bargain’s simple surface feminism still had me pumping my fist in the air. I don’t want to have a pot luck about these things once a month, turning my joyful reading into homework.

But, I do want friends who know The Starless Sea was breathtaking, who can find themselves fantasizing of the bonds of found families in Becky Chamber’s books , and consider the power of stories from Alexandra Rowland’s books , and delight in being lost in Naomi Novak’s fairy tale worlds . We don’t need to have a bookclub, but I know we’d be fast friends if you connect with the same art that I do.

While I rebel against Rob’s recognizable and childish, “… what really matters is what you like, not what you are like,” I understand how powerful that line is. What you like so often reveals what you are like, in inexpressible ways.

Most of my friends don’t read the books I read. I wouldn’t even recommend that they do. But there are a few people who share my tastes and I can’t help but to feel this keeps us connected in a different, powerful, and intimate way through the years. ²

While I’m mad at how the US has performed during COVID, and especially our government health authorities, I still have bristled at completely undermining their authority. This is at least equal parts fear of the lack of better alternatives and a recognition that, “the painfully visible gap between the institutions’ claims of competence and their actual performance,” while real, also strike me as “a function of the limits of human knowledge,” as Martin Gurri wrote.

This crisis of authority is real, but their failures to be perfect are not. And in some ways, my frustrations are feeding a narrative that requires, at times, magical or impossible standards. That’s why specific criticism is so important— the early communication on masks was wrong, but possibly not bad ¹ decisions. Whereas the slow process to full approval for the mRNA vaccines and hesitance to introduce vaccine mandates of any kind feel more like both bad and wrong decisions.

Our government’s handling of COVID-19 is littered with wrong decisions and bad decisions. We would do well to focus criticism on the latter, lest we succumb to a hopeless nihilism that will only leave us less prepared to face the next crisis.

I was being driven crazy by the sound of my guitar. What’s wrong? The tuner says I’m fine. Am I going out of tune because I’m pressing too hard on the strings? Why do octaves all sound good? Is that a rattle/hum/buzz?

After 15 minutes, I realized what it was the interaction between the note I was playing and the sound of my ceiling fan being just slightly different such that I could hear the subtle beats of notes in unison out of tune. Turn off the fan, wait for it to stop. Play. Everything sounds fine.

Fuck.

But there isn’t just one spectrum; at the very least, there’s a quadrant grid, with policy goals on one axis and temperament on the other. The x-axis ranges from a fully planned economy to anarcho-capitalism; the y-axis ranges from solicitous Socratic dialogue to misanthropic bullying. They vary independently.

The Post-Dirtbag Left

This was a great article, but the quote above really stood out. I think we’ve fallen into this trap when it comes to vulgarity, call out culture, or tone-policing where it’s become difficult to talk about the impact of temperament. But the idea that we can think about temperament as a dimension within our political leanings, expression, and affiliation is powerful. It is on this access that we can understand the schisms between Warren and Sanders while also recognizing there are far more radical figures than either on other dimensions of policy.

I fall pretty far from the misanthropic bullying side of the temperament axis, while recognizing that I may have a quite a bit in common with those folks from a policy perspective. The whole Dirtbag Left phenomenon may be of my generation and gender, but it left me, and the people I associate with, far behind.

Should have cleaned up before pictures. Missing: my amp, which is in the shop for as much as five weeks. Needed: more books, a light for the bookshelf, and probably another plant on the bookshelf. Overall, pretty happy with where things are about 16 months after I took over this room.

Yesterday my friend came to me for advice. Afterwards, they told me that I was, “…a wonderful friend… I’m very grateful for you.”

My response was, “It’s a mitzvah to exercise being a friend.”

Here’s what I meant. Strictly, a mitzvah is a commandment–something we’re told we must do (or must not do). But a mitzvah is also a blessing. Each time we perform a mitzvah, it is an opportunity to act with meaning and to achieve something important. Performing a mitzvah is a holy act, whereby holy I mean that it is separated from normal. It is a chance to act with distinction from the mundane.

I am not always the best version of myself. None of us are. I don’t always take the opportunity to seize a moment to act with intentionality and purpose. So when a friend comes to me for support and I’m able to provide it, wholly, honestly, and without flubbing it up because I misread the cues or just am not who they need, it’s deeply fulfilling.

What is better than offering some part of yourself to strengthen others? What higher purpose can there be?

I am glad to hear that I was a good friend, but I am happier to have had the opportunity to be that friend. I wish I had more; it’s something I’d like to get really good at.

Taken from my DayOne journal, but I decided to share it publicly after some consideration.

Do real names reduce the need for moderation and introduce civility in online conversation? I used to think so. In fact, I changed all my online names to my real name back in college in part for this reason. I don’t hold on to any of those original “handles/monikers/nicks” I used to have.

But as the user-generated internet has grown, I’ve changed my mind. Facebook is filled with people who have their “real” identity, tied to their “real” family, and their “real” friends but act horribly to one another. They spread misinformation, fight about politics, are nasty, and reveal horrible truths about their personalities constantly. Services like Nextdoor or Citizen are filled with aggressive racism.

Real identities don’t increase shame or perceived risk of acting horribly to one another. Instead, the power of the internet to create connections and grow communities radicalizes us. If our behavior or views are deplorable or deplorable-adjacent, we find a pocket of the world that amplifies and rewards our behavior and disconnect from the world that rejects our behaviors.

Civility comes from having no choice but to find ourselves intertwined with others. Civility is a long game that the internet let’s us opt out of, and it’s destroying us.

Reflecting on “Abolishing Online Anonymity Will Not Tackle Abuse”

I have not had great confidence in the FDA and WHO when it comes to getting the science of COVID right in the short term. They both frequently advise too much caution in the face of low amounts of data, and too frequently the early available signals turn out to be correct. When weighing the risks and costs, acting on some data has almost always been the better choice than waiting on a more complete story. So when it comes to boosters, I’m inclined to believe Pfizer’s early evidence that they provide a significant increase in protection, especially for the elderly. And I’m inclined to believe that this protection is necessary for vaccinated individuals to have less restrictive lives given the rampant spread of COVID-19 and development of new, more contagious variants. The FDA, WHO, and other health officials playing “skeptical bad cop” will most likely have an outcome of dissuading complacent Americans from getting a third booster shot, even if better evidence shows we need them.

On the other hand, I do fully understand the moral imperative to get the whole world vaccinated. Not with standing the deaths, pain, and suffering COVID is causing as it continues to spread in lower income countries that were not able to secure vaccines due to international failure, the rise of new variants is dependent on the continuation of global pandemic conditions. Wealthy countries cannot defeat COVID only acting within their borders.

But the truth is, I don’t see anything to suggest that Americans who are willing to be vaccinated getting a third booster shot will meaningfully change the utter failure of the global community to distribute vaccines. And with large portions of the US population refusing to get vaccinated (and their governments supporting and enabling this choice), my family and I will see our risk of contracting continue to increase.

If offered, I am going to take my third shot, even if I hope the global health community gets its shit together and figures out how to vaccinate the world. We really need to see these vaccines get full approval instead of emergency-use authorization as well, since this has becoming the rallying cry of the vaccine hesitant, especially those who seem persuadable within the US.

In reply to: Health officials rail against Pfizer’s push for COVID boosters—for many reasons

We were staying around the corner from Kokoro here in Tulum without even knowing it— there’s a sign up against jungle foliage with a path and no further explanation. But at night, the path is lit up with string lights, inviting and mysterious. We wandered down the path and found the first pool I’ve seen that actually feels lagoon-like, and a Japanese restaurant with a grill on the first floor and sushi on the mezzanine.

If a sushi place looks pretty good, I’m almost always going to go for the omakase. So we decided to make reservations and return the following night to check it out.

What followed was a wonderful meal, most of which is pictured here ¹. The toro sashimi and toro nigiri with black truffle were particularly special, as was the quail egg and nori “taco”. It’s a privilege to be able to take vacations, and it’s even more of a privilege to be able to find a restaurant like this and let the chef do whatever they want. These are the experiences I treasure.

The best kind of progress for me is not measured on the scale. Instead, it’s measured by my accomplishment today.

I was able to keep up with a group of fit people in a tour “very few people choose to go on” mountain biking through the jungle, into caves, and then hiking through the caves until we stopped for lunch. We had virtually no breakfast, and lunch was a small sandwich— bread the size of my palm, one slice of salami, a slide of tomato, and maybe a slice of cheese, I can’t recall— and a banana. We had water and Gatorade, but I just went for the water.

Even just 2 months ago, I would have been struggling to keep up at all. I would have been starving and cranky about lunch, feeling totally unsatisfied and uncomfortable with hunger, especially after that hard work.

But today, I pulled on a wet suit and mostly swam through the caves for two hours. By the end, I was tired, but I just had some more water, pulled off the wet suit and returned it to my backpack, and then hiked to then bike back out the caves and jungles again.

At the end, we had a small meal of Mayan food waiting for us, a very reasonable plate, but nothing that would have approached a meal for me until recently. Drenched in so much sweat I could wring it out of my shirt, I enjoyed a light beer with my afternoon meal and we were on our way.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings, but right now I’m not sore or in any kind of pain. A few months ago, I’d be laying out on the floor. Now I took a shower, and feel refreshed, and while I’m not looking to do a long walk or bike ride tonight, I’m confident I’ll be ready to go in the morning.

And I’ve already been riding a bike about 10 miles each day the last two days.

When I decided to get back to the gym, back to weightlifting and training, and start watching my food closely again this is why— I was tired, I was not able to do things physically I wanted to do in order to enjoy my life. Sure I wanted to be able to more easily by clothes and was embarrassed by how I look, but I’ve been embarrassed by how I look my whole life. ¹ Mostly what I wanted was to be able to physically do it all, and never be worried if I could keep up with the group or have to sit back because something didn’t feel possible.

I’m not ready to climb a mountain, but I can be a full participant again. I can feel the good kind of effort, with more adrenaline and endorphins than pain.

This is what I’ve been in the work to achieve. This is the progress I wanted.

A rare picture of myself. Introducing, Vacay Jay. (It’s pouring here in Tulum, I’ve got to entertain myself somehow).

So tonight I was introduced to a “caprese salad” which was actually burrata and pesto stuffed into an heirloom tomato and I was very happy.

No pictures once it was sliced open, it was gone too fast.