"When I was younger and lonelier and knew more about other people than I did about myself, I thought..."

Sat, 26 May 2012 14:05:18 -0700

“When I was younger and lonelier and knew more about other people than I did about myself, I thought what I wanted was to be pretty. I thought of it as an existential status, pretty.”

- The Rumpus Saturday Essay: Me Be Pretty One Day

The Dorothea (near Fisherman’s Terminal)

Fri, 18 May 2012 22:26:28 -0700

The Dorothea (near Fisherman’s Terminal)

"This world,” wrote Bakhtin — the young, new Bakhtin, before his exile in Kazakhstan, before he..."

Fri, 18 May 2012 17:55:34 -0700

““This world,” wrote Bakhtin — the young, new Bakhtin, before his exile in Kazakhstan, before he had his leg amputated — “…this world is fundamentally and essentially indeterminable either in theoretical categories or in categories of historical cognition or through aesthetic intuition.” I’m reading philosophy and physics lately, from this idea that you have to understand the laws of the universe or the multiverse before you can break them. It’s hopeless, I’m hopeless, I can’t figure anything out. I’m made entirely of quanta and atoms but I don’t at all behave like quanta or atoms, and then there is no “I” differentiated from the quanta or the atoms? I’m starting to feel like, before I solve the problems I actually want to solve, I’ll be levitating and bending forks just by looking at them. I’ll be meeting myself outside the window.”

- Bookslut | Old Hat: Reading Toward a Philosophy of the Act

"At the end of the afternoon he said to me, not as warning but as a statement of fact, not a promise..."

Thu, 17 May 2012 23:32:01 -0700

“At the end of the afternoon he said to me, not as warning but as a statement of fact, not a promise but a diagnosis, in sympathy and fellowship, that the secret of it all was simply, “You’re doomed.””

- Los Angeles Review of Books - Remembering Maurice Sendak

ALL THE COFFEE.

Thu, 17 May 2012 14:56:36 -0700

ALL THE COFFEE.

Photo

Thu, 17 May 2012 10:06:08 -0700

trying to make sense

Mon, 14 May 2012 00:57:25 -0700

“Words, what is the word, matter,” by Bob Hicok (via ecantwell):

“You broke my kneecaps” makes more sense
than “You broke my heart.” The jilted
would recognize each other at the bus stop
on crutches and gather their sniffling woe
like a herd of tripods off to the side
and smoke a communal smoke while writing
country songs in their thoughts
that begin with lines such as “Love
is like shin splints.” My calling here’s
to save the heart from poets
who’ve troped it to death. Personally
my heart is like the thing I least
want to give away or have stepped on, OK
it’s my second least popular organ
to consider being stomped, number one,
according to the accordion of my brain
is my brain. The last time
someone told me he was a sucker
for romance, I licked his face and he
was very much not happy about it.
I was expecting a hint of strawberry
but people taste so much like regret
that cannibalism, notwithstanding
what seems to be the chicken flavor
of all flesh, would be the saddest diet
on the planet. “Honey, who’s for dinner”
aren’t words I want to say
anymore than “My heart beats only for you.”
“My heart beats only for a while”
is a sadder poem anyway so why make this
an anatomy class with cadavers
who were probably inmates to gauge
by the tattoos as I recall them
from college, when I was in love with a woman
who turned to me with a heart in her hand
and said, and I’ll never forget this,
“Yuck.” Yet I found it beautiful
in how refused and shriveled and stupid
it looked out of context
and wanted to but couldn’t
put it back to work and there
it was, failure to be of use
on a scale that to this day makes hope
seem a limping, broken word I love.

My grandma had a stroke last Thursday and hasn’t been able to speak since. There’ve been a few limping, broken almost-words — sitting with her, our hearts are in our eyes, our hearts are in our hands, our hearts are breaking a little. But her brain is picking itself back up and putting things back together; today she drew a circle on the tabletop with her fingertips, then patted the edge of the table. This meant “I’m glad you’re all here,” based on the vigorous nodding when we guessed.

Sitting there in the hospital, the memories that come to mind are not from the year I lived with her but from the three years in middle school when I went to her house every day after school. She could read my face better than anyone; even when I lied she knew if I’d been crying and would give me custard or order me to bed under the “feel-better blanket.” Now, trying to read her face, I wish I had her knack for it.

Tomorrow we’ll try again.

Me, my mom & her mom. May your day be full of mothers.

Sun, 13 May 2012 00:16:02 -0700

Me, my mom & her mom. May your day be full of mothers.

From Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom

Fri, 11 May 2012 07:59:57 -0700

From a letter to Maurice Sendak dated February 16, 1973:

Dearest Maurice:

I phoned Morley Safer’s office and asked when the segment with you would be telecast on 60 Minutes. I am tired of having to watch the whole program every minute every week! The young woman who answered said the interview was still being edited and thus had not been scheduled, but she took my name and phone number and said she would let me know when it was definitely scheduled. “Now whose secretary are you?” she asked pleasantly—female chauvinistic sow. “I am Mr. Sendak’s editor,” I said with simple dignity. I don’t plan to be buried but it would be nice on my tombstone…. “She was Mr. Sendak’s editor.”

[…]

I enjoyed your last phone call very very much. It was—as always—tremendously exciting to hear that you are getting flashes and signals in your head about your new book, and the little you told me was—again—TREMENDOUSLY EXCITING. I know how privileged I am to hear about what is going on in your head. It has been and is the greatest happiness of my professional life. Now I’m getting stuffy sounding, so enough of this…..

From a letter dated May 20, 1974:

Fran M wants me to ask you about the last page of Where the Wild Things Are. As you know, new plates are being made and before the new edition comes out we wonder if you want to change the last word from “hot” to “warm.” I can’t for the life of me remember the history of all this but I believe we heard from a couple of children (or their rotten parents) that “and it was still warm” would be better than “and it was still hot” because children don’t like hot food. Listen, have you ever had such great editorial comment in your life? Anyhow, just a note to ask you if you ever cared one way or another. If you want to keep it hot that is OK by me and by us, of course. I just couldn’t remember if you even wanted to give the “still warm” idea a second thought.

Maurice, it did me so much good to see you looking so well and strong and healthy. When I give you a little hug now it is all just solid rock. Well, you were always perfect but in earlier years there wasn’t quite SUCH solid rock. What am I saying? I mean it as a compliment, dear sir.

I’m going to be in Bridgewater from this Wednesday on until about Tuesday the 28th. Give me a ring there if you feel like it and tell me about the last word in Wild Things.

These letters from his editor give such a nice sense of who Sendak was. There seem to have been a number of running jokes between them — including one about male chauvinist pigs.

They were clearly kindred spirits.

eoporto: Chicken Soup with Rice: A Book of Months by Maurice...

Tue, 08 May 2012 10:23:26 -0700

eoporto:

Chicken Soup with Rice: A Book of Months by Maurice Sendak

I have a tiny set of his books that are among some of my most favorite possessions.

Chicken Soup with Rice!

Little Bear!

and oh, The Nutcracker at PNB!

For the morning dashboard crew: last night I published a thing about sexism in tech and all the...

Tue, 01 May 2012 10:41:08 -0700

For the morning dashboard crew: last night I published a thing about sexism in tech and all the unpleasant kerfuffles lately. I would be super honored if you would read it and let me know what you think.

At this point, the routine is familiar.

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 23:51:00 -0700

A startup or tech company produces a flyer, presentation, or recruiting piece reeking of explicit or implicit sexism; somebody notices and calls them on it; the initial offender digs deeper into sexist/derailing defensiveness, which triggers much wider notice. Finally, someone they care about — a sponsor, funder, or critical Twitter mass — joins in, the initial offender makes a sharp turn toward apology mode (sincerity may vary), and the internet delivers a verdict on whether they deserve forgiveness (results may vary).

We’ve seen this little pattern a lot lately, as young men grasp for credibility and cache in a woefully male-dominated niche. It’s hardly surprising that they often turn to casual sexism (or, as I propose we call it, male-pattern bonding).

There are two problems here, and I think it’s worth teasing them apart, because they need different solutions.

First, the tech industry has a culture problem.

This sexist or objectifying shit happens because someone thinks it’s going to fly — and it does, sometimes. Whether it happens in public or in private, it all contributes to driving women out of tech or deterring them from the field altogether. Also, normalizing the objectification of women creates a problematic expectation that when women are around, they’re window dressing instead of experts.

For the culture problem, the shaming routine is a pretty good solution. Last week’s Mother Jones article was actually heartening, because it sounds like sexism is starting to be a liability. It’s embarrassing, and can damage relationships, sponsorships, and trust.

After reading the Mother Jones piece, I deleted the Path app. Each user’s relationship with a new social product hangs by a thread of social connections and trust. I was on the fence about Path — only two of my actual friends use it — and when I have a choice, I’d rather not trust carelessly sexist people (or the companies that hire them) with my data, attention, or time.

Making sexism (either explicit or casual) a business liability is progress. As startups and their orbits realize sexism can be damaging, we’ll start seeing a little more restraint. The gratuitously sexy slides will land on the cutting-room floor long before presenters go on stage, and self-censorship will nix the rape jokes before they make it to anyone else’s ears.

*****

Second, we have a person problem.

The culture problem is only part of it, and restraint isn’t a long-term solution. A fully equitable, mutually respectful world isn’t built on restraint — it’s built on respect and understanding. Making people stop saying sexist shit is only the first step. The goal is that they stop being sexist.

Actual humans write those hackathon flyers. The rape-culture-y jokes come from the mouths of actual humans. Several actual humans review those big presentations before they make it to the projector screen. The derailing attacks and defensive tweets are typed by fingers belonging to actual humans in front of keyboards. Each time I see this happen, I feel angry, but I also feel very sorry for those humans.

Those humans are tired. They are probably very stressed. They likely feel like impostors, and some may be making negative incomes while they try to prove themselves as leaders and builders of stuff. They, like all of us, want to be good people.

I’m not validating the “but I’m a good person” defense. If anything, sexism seems like a solid indicator that — while you may be a good person, whatever that means — you are not very good at being a person.

Some of them have families who are supporting them while they try to make it. Many of them are watching their friends achieve almost unbelievable monetary success and wondering if they’ve already missed the boat. They’ve all been told it’s about selling yourself and selling your team by convincing everyone, and especially investors, that you have what it takes.

But mostly I’m sorry for them because it’s genuinely shitty to be told you’re sexist or insensitive — but it’s even shittier to actually be sexist, because it means you’re missing out on a tremendous wealth of shared humanity.

For humans, shaming is terrible. Nobody responds well to shame. Even when the cycle of recrimination forces perfunctory groveling or a performed reformation, the deeper emotional response is likely to be defensive.

I worry about them. After the groveling, after the verdicts on perceived sincerity, after the event is cancelled or some money is donated: do they actually think differently about women in their industry? Or do they carry on making the same jokes and comments whenever they think there are no women present?

*****

The shaming-and-groveling routine is doing its work culturally, but it’s not sustainable. To make it stick, we need more people on our side; we need to let them in, instead of locking them out. How can we make the people better instead of just making them better at hiding their asshattery?

We’ve all said dumb, offensive shit. This is what friends are for: they help you be a better, kinder human. They let you know when you’ve said something ignorant or idiotic. They point out that “gypped”, “retarded”, and “gay” are dumbass, hurtful things to say, and they keep pointing it out until you break the habit.

Maybe the most powerful small things are how you interact with the people you know:

Don’t laugh uncomfortably at misogynist jokes, no matter how awkward the silence.
Talk with friends about judgment calls influenced by sexism (“Ugh, he tweets misogynist comments — let’s not hire him;” “I’m going to skip that app, their ad was super skeezy”).
Keep walking out of talks with offensive content.

For startups, designers, recruiters, and writers, it’s time to start assuming there are women in your audience. Include female user personas. Assume (or pretend) that at least one of the VCs you’re pitching to is a woman. Double-check “culture fit” assessments when you interview potential developers who are women.

Maybe this will make it a little easier for women to stay in tech. Maybe eventually the answers to a question like this one won’t be so discouraging.

In the long run, the main thing that makes us better at being human is simply this: getting to know other humans — and learning to respect them enough that it’s not even a little bit tempting to say shit that will hurt them.

One of my favorites from the trip.

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 14:57:37 -0700

One of my favorites from the trip.

"If you claim that you are not a racist person (or, at least, that you’re committed to working..."

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 10:53:33 -0700

“If you claim that you are not a racist person (or, at least, that you’re committed to working your ass off not to be one—which is really the best that any of us can promise), then you must believe that people are fundamentally born equal. So if that’s true, then in a vacuum, factors like skin color should have no effect on anyone’s success. Right? And therefore, if you really believe that all people are created equal, then when you see that drastic racial inequalities exist in the real world, the only thing that you could possibly conclude is that some external force is holding certain people back. Like…racism. Right? So congratulations! You believe in racism! Unless you don’t actually think that people are born equal. And if you don’t believe that people are born equal, then you’re a fucking racist.”

- Lindy West on racism

I don’t know why it took me a whole day to read this, but yeah it was predictably brilliant and fabulously Lindy. This is such a great summary of the problem with “not believing” in structural inequality.

Photo

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 13:07:36 -0700

The final participants in today’s parade on Mission.

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 12:54:43 -0700

The final participants in today’s parade on Mission.

"Simply, if Pinterest is the picturesque landscape painting hung on the wall, then Facebook is where..."

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 12:30:20 -0700

“

Simply, if Pinterest is the picturesque landscape painting hung on the wall, then Facebook is where we pretend the painting is a window.

Remember that Zuckerberg’s bank account hinges on pretending Facebook is fact. His data on us is only as valuable as it is accurate. Commentators get mileage out of falsely claiming the “death of anonymity” because sensationalist scare tactics garner clicks, eyeballs, attention, and — again — money. And we propagate the myth out of fear of seeming inauthentic against the obvious evidence we are all posers.Facebook is a lot like identity performance offline — our online and offline identities were never that separate to begin with. We propagate the myth of identity as being natural, authentic, and spontaneous and forget what thinkers like Erving Goffman and Judith Butler have painstakingly illustrated: Identity, on and offline, is a performance.

”

- Picture Pluperfect by Nathan Jurgenson in The New Inquiry

Incoming!

Wed, 18 Apr 2012 23:53:09 -0700

Train arriving. Harue, Japan, from a few weeks ago.

(cinemagr.am)

couch: Tonight.

Fri, 13 Apr 2012 11:42:44 -0700

couch:

Tonight.

Love love love.

Thu, 12 Apr 2012 09:35:40 -0700

Love love love.

more stories

"When I was younger and lonelier and knew more about other people than I did about myself, I thought..."

The Dorothea (near Fisherman’s Terminal)

"This world,” wrote Bakhtin — the young, new Bakhtin, before his exile in Kazakhstan, before he..."

"At the end of the afternoon he said to me, not as warning but as a statement of fact, not a promise..."

ALL THE COFFEE.

Photo

trying to make sense

Me, my mom & her mom. May your day be full of mothers.

From Dear Genius: The Letters of Ursula Nordstrom

eoporto: Chicken Soup with Rice: A Book of Months by Maurice...

For the morning dashboard crew: last night I published a thing about sexism in tech and all the...

At this point, the routine is familiar.

One of my favorites from the trip.

"If you claim that you are not a racist person (or, at least, that you’re committed to working..."

Photo

The final participants in today’s parade on Mission.

"Simply, if Pinterest is the picturesque landscape painting hung on the wall, then Facebook is where..."

Incoming!

couch: Tonight.

Love love love.