finalize october 2024

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David Eisinger
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draft: false
tags:
- dispatch
references:
- title: "Beyond survival mode"
url: https://austinkleon.com/2019/01/18/beyond-survival-mode/
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:24Z
file: austinkleon-com-zppigr.txt
- title: "The Art of Taking It Slow | The New Yorker"
url: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/09/23/the-art-of-taking-it-slow
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:24Z
file: www-newyorker-com-l1a2a0.txt
- title: "Wealth = Have ÷ Need | Derek Sivers"
url: https://sive.rs/whn
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:25Z
file: sive-rs-lwvanv.txt
- title: "Attention, Spoiled Software Engineers: Take a Lesson from Googles Programming Language | WIRED"
url: https://www.wired.com/story/attention-spoiled-software-engineers-take-a-lesson-from-googles-programming-language/
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:25Z
file: www-wired-com-iimdi0.txt
- title: "To Learn to Live in a Mundane Universe - Freddie deBoer"
url: https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:26Z
file: freddiedeboer-substack-com-wmatij.txt
- title: "Coming home | A Working Library"
url: https://aworkinglibrary.com/writing/coming-home
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:26Z
file: aworkinglibrary-com-nhumyz.txt
- title: "A good assistant to your future self - Austin Kleon"
url: https://austinkleon.com/2023/03/20/a-good-assistant-to-your-future-self/
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:27Z
file: austinkleon-com-yahlot.txt
- title: "Crypto's missing plateau of productivity - macwright.com"
url: https://macwright.com/2024/09/15/cryptos-missing-plateau-of-productivity.html
date: 2024-10-02T03:47:28Z
file: macwright-com-6wqpgh.txt
---
Note: I'm trying to get back to posting these in the first couple days of the month, so this dispatch only covers the last two weeks.
@@ -32,74 +65,72 @@ To celebrate, we headed to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, which was a **scene**. Nevie
Nico started daycare last week, which is bittersweet; it's been wonderful having him around all day. But we love our daycare and it's fun to have him and Nev in the same place.
Just a few more weeks until my half-marathon. I'm feeling relatively good, hitting my mileage goals though dismayed with my pace on the longer runs. I'm trying to make time to run while it's light out -- I don't think running in the dark after a long day is doing me any favors.
Just a few more weeks until my half-marathon. I'm feeling relatively good, hitting my mileage goals, I'though I'm discouraged with my pace and energy level on the longer runs. I'm trying to make time to run while it's light out -- I don't think running in the dark after a long day is doing me any favors.
Finished a couple small house projects: added a hanging system for Nev's art table and built some storage for our reusable grocery bags.
Finished a couple small house projects: a hanging system for Nev's art table and some storage for our reusable grocery bags.
{{<dither IMG_6914.jpeg "782x600" />}}
{{<dither IMG_6919.jpeg "782x600" />}}
... If I run, it was a good day, and I feel the same way about these little home improvement efforts: any day I get to use a drill or power saw is a good day. It's something about the self-directed decision making, skill, and agency of it ...
One of my favorite things about running is this: it doesn't matter what else happens throughout the day -- if I run, it was a good day. I feel the same way about these little home improvement efforts: any day I use a drill or power saw is a good day.
### This month
* Adventure: Wilmington to meet my new nephew, [Bull City Race Fest][3] half-marathon, camping at [Fairy Stone State Park][4]
* Project:
* Skill:
* Project: make a new music track!
* Skill: keep working my way through my [drum programming book][5]; I loaded up some samples onto my SP-404 and have made decent progress
[3]: https://capstoneraces.com/bull-city-race-fest/
[4]: https://www.dcr.virginia.gov/state-parks/fairy-stone
[5]: https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/6399596-drum-programming
### Reading
* Fiction: [_House of Assassins_][5], Larry Correia -- this series isn't blowing my mind but at this point I'm invested enough that I'll see the whole thing through
* Non-fiction: [_The World Beyond Your Head_][6], Matthew B. Crawford -- this is really very good and speaks to me at a deep level; a little dense if you (like me) don't read a lot of academic writing but highly recommended regardless
* Fiction: [_House of Assassins_][6], Larry Correia -- this series isn't blowing my mind but at this point I'm invested enough that I'll see the whole thing through
* Non-fiction: [_The World Beyond Your Head_][7], Matthew B. Crawford -- this is really very good and speaks to me at a deep level; a little dense if you (like me) don't read a lot of academic writing but highly recommended regardless
[5]: https://bookshop.org/p/books/house-of-assassins-volume-2-larry-correia/218731?ean=9781982124458
[6]: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-world-beyond-your-head-on-becoming-an-individual-in-an-age-of-distraction-matthew-b-crawford/8484056?ean=9780374535919
[6]: https://bookshop.org/p/books/house-of-assassins-volume-2-larry-correia/218731?ean=9781982124458
[7]: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-world-beyond-your-head-on-becoming-an-individual-in-an-age-of-distraction-matthew-b-crawford/8484056?ean=9780374535919
### Links
- [Beyond survival mode](https://austinkleon.com/2019/01/18/beyond-survival-mode/) (2024-09-27)
* [Beyond survival mode][8]
> Weekly art, writing, and creative inspiration from the author of Steal Like an Artist and other bestsellers. Click to read Austin Kleon, a Substack publication with hundreds of thousands of subscribers.
> There are moments with children, even in a boring, safe, suburban existence like mine, where you just feel like youre in Survival Mode. And every once in a while it lifts and you feel like youve moved beyond just surviving, and you feel like youre actually living. The children eat their food. You all tell stories and laugh. Books after tubs with no whining. Youre a quartet, and youre all performing the same music.
- [The Art of Taking It Slow | The New Yorker](https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/09/23/the-art-of-taking-it-slow) (2024-09-27)
* [The Art of Taking It Slow][9]
> Contemporary cycling is all about spandex and personal bests. The bicycle designer Grant Petersen has amassed an ardent following by urging people to get comfortable bikes, and go easy.
- [Wealth = Have ÷ Need | Derek Sivers](https://sive.rs/whn) (2024-09-27)
* [Wealth = Have ÷ Need][10]
> Making money depends on other people, so its harder. Its not entirely under your control. Its an outer game. Reducing what you need is easier. Its entirely under your control. Its an inner game.
- [Attention, Spoiled Software Engineers: Take a Lesson from Googles Programming Language | WIRED](https://www.wired.com/story/attention-spoiled-software-engineers-take-a-lesson-from-googles-programming-language/) (2024-09-24)
* [Attention, Spoiled Software Engineers: Take a Lesson from Googles Programming Language][11]
> Perhaps this is why I see the ethos behind the programming language Go as both a rebuke and a potential corrective to my generation of strivers. Its creators hail from an era when programmers had smaller egos and fewer commercial ambitions, and it is, for my money, the premier general-purpose language of the new millenniumnot the best at any one thing, but nearly the best at nearly everything. A model for our flashy times.
> Perhaps this is why I see the ethos behind the programming language Go as both a rebuke and a potential corrective to my generation of strivers. Its creators hail from an era when programmers had smaller egos and fewer commercial ambitions, and it is, for my money, the premier general-purpose language of the new millennium -- not the best at any one thing, but nearly the best at nearly everything. A model for our flashy times.
- [Using Helix's Global Search | Helix Editor Tutorials](https://helix-editor-tutorials.com/tutorials/using-helix-global-search/) (2024-09-23)
> Unlock the full potential of Helix Editor's global search! Dive into our step-by-step guide to mastering workspace-wide searches with both basic and advanced regex techniques. Discover insider tips and the latest updates that will transform your coding efficiency.
- [To Learn to Live in a Mundane Universe](https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe?publication_id=295937&post_id=148918222&isFreemail=true&r=1dfk2&triedRedirect=true) (2024-09-22)
* [To Learn to Live in a Mundane Universe][12]
> You have to imagine a life you can live with, where you are, when you are. If you dont, youll never be satisfied. Neither AI nor anything else is coming to save you from the things you dont like about being a person. The better life you absolutely can build isnt going to be brought to you by ChatGPT but by your own steady uphill clawing and through careful management of your own expectations. You live here. This is it. Thats what I would tell to everyone out there: this is it. This is it. This is it. Youre never going to hang out with Mr. Data on the Holodeck. I know that, for a lot of people, mundane reality is everything they want to escape. But it could be so much worse.
- [Coming home](https://aworkinglibrary.com/writing/coming-home) (2024-09-20)
* [Coming home][13]
> There was a time when I felt some resonance between spending time in the social stream and doing my own work. As if the movement of the water imparted some energy or power I could make use of, and then return. But its been a long time since Ive felt that way.
- [A good assistant to your future self - Austin Kleon](https://austinkleon.com/2023/03/20/a-good-assistant-to-your-future-self/) (2024-09-16)
* [A good assistant to your future self][14]
> Yes, a diary is a good spaceship for time travel: for meditating on the present, flinging ourselves into the future, and visiting ourselves in the past.
- [Crypto's missing plateau of productivity - macwright.com](https://macwright.com/2024/09/15/cryptos-missing-plateau-of-productivity.html) (2024-09-16)
* [Crypto's missing plateau of productivity][15]
> I think that even the most overhyped technology usually delivers some benefit to the world. And often succeeds quietly, long after the hype has died. Recent examples include 3D printing, which has found massive success in prototyping, medical applications - a friend had a filling 3D-printed right in his doctors office - and niche consumer items. Etsy is awash with 3D printed lamps, some even that I own. Or drones, which are now used all the time in news coverage, on job sites, and by people filming themselves hiking.
* [Title][7]
* [Title][8]
* [Title][9]
[7]: https://example.com/
[8]: https://example.com/
[9]: https://example.com/
[8]: https://austinkleon.com/2019/01/18/beyond-survival-mode/
[9]: https://sive.rs/whn
[10]: https://www.wired.com/story/attention-spoiled-software-engineers-take-a-lesson-from-googles-programming-language/
[11]: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/09/23/the-art-of-taking-it-slow
[12]: https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe?publication_id=295937&post_id=148918222&isFreemail=true&r=1dfk2&triedRedirect=true
[13]: https://aworkinglibrary.com/writing/coming-home
[14]: https://austinkleon.com/2023/03/20/a-good-assistant-to-your-future-self/
[15]: https://macwright.com/2024/09/15/cryptos-missing-plateau-of-productivity.html

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@@ -0,0 +1,257 @@
[1]Austin Kleon
• [2]Blog
• [3]Books
• [4]Newsletter
• [5]Speaking
• [6]About
• [7]Contact
• [8][9]
You are here: [10]Blog / [11]Miscellany / A good assistant to your future self
A good assistant to your future self
Monday, March 20, 2023
[12][IMG_2886-600x600]
This morning I was flipping through my copy of the [13]Bicycle Sentences
Journal that illustrator [14]Betsy Streeter sent me and I was quite taken with
this final paragraph by Grant Petersen. (Im a big fan of [15]his blog and [16]
Just Ride.)
He touches on [17]why I keep a diary, why I keep it [18]on paper, and the magic
of [19]keeping a logbook. The mundane details can bring back sublime memories,
and [20]what you think is boring now may be interesting in the future: “What
seems bland when you write it down… will seem epic in thirty years.”
I have a new studio routine where when Im unsure of what to write about, I
[21]revisit my notebooks each year [22]on todays date. (I have notebooks going
back 20 years, daily logbooks going back 15, but Ive kept a daily diary for 5
years now. Thats where a lot of gems are buried.)
Flipping through these notebooks will usually yield something worth writing
about. (This morning, it was [23]William Burroughs on language.)
Reading my diary this way, which I first learned from [24]reading Thoreaus
diary, also shows me the cycles and patterns of my life.
(For example: [25]Cocteau Twins and the beginning of spring are somehow
intertwined in my life. What does that mean? And what does the fact that their
lyrics are barely understandable mean when matched with the Burroughs? Spring
is a season of rebirth… When babies are new, they babble and make noise without
language… do they sound like spring to me for this reason? You can see how
these thoughts, none of which I had when I woke up this morning, come forth
from just reading myself.)
[26][Screen-Shot-2023-03-20-at-11]
Another way to think about it: Keeping a diary is being a good research
assistant to your future self.
This is the advice that art critic [27]Jerry Saltz has tweeted over the years:
[28]Be a good assistant to yourself. Prepare and gather, make notations and
sketches in your head or phone. When you work,  all that mapping,
architecture, research & preparation will be your past self giving a gift
to the future self that you are now. That is the sacred.
[29]Ive never had an assistant. I am my own best assistant. My assistant
-self is my past self loving my future self wholl need this previous
research when I reach for something in my work. My assistant-self has
gotten ideas for whole articles, essays from minutes of research online.
[30]Artists: The beautiful thing about giving yourself a little break & not
working those are the times when new ideas flood in from the cosmos & set
your “assistant self” in motion, the self that will be there for your
“future-self.” Curiosity and obsession always fill the vacuum.
[31]Artists: Be your own best assistant. Do your research. Get your tools
and materials in order. These will be the ancestors, spirit guides and
self-replicating imagination of your work. This will allow art to reproduce
itself in you. Youll thank yourself during & afterwards.
I have my many moments of self-loathing at my own lack of progress, but one
thing I have done right, at least in the past half decade or so: I have been a
good assistant to my future self.
Joan Didion said of re-reading notebooks, “I think we are well advised to keep
on nodding terms with the people we used to be.” This is especially true if
they have bothered to preserve themselves so we can visit them later.
Yes, a diary is [32]a good spaceship for time travel: for meditating on the
present, flinging ourselves into the future, and visiting ourselves in the
past.
Filed Under: [33]Miscellany Tagged: [34]bicycles, [35]diaries, [36]jerry saltz,
[37]NOTES ON WRITING AND DRAWING, [38]time travel
[39][ ][40][Search]
About the author
[41]Austin Kleon
[42]Austin Kleon is a writer who draws. Hes the bestselling author of [43]
Steal Like An Artist and other books. [44]Read more→
• [45]
• [46]
• [47]
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• [49]
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References:
[1] https://austinkleon.com/
[2] https://austinkleon.com/
[3] https://austinkleon.com/books/
[4] https://austinkleon.substack.com/
[5] https://austinkleon.com/speaking/
[6] https://austinkleon.com/about/
[7] https://austinkleon.com/contact/
[8] https://twitter.com/austinkleon
[9] https://instagram.com/austinkleon
[10] https://austinkleon.com/
[11] https://austinkleon.com/category/miscellany/
[12] https://www.rivbike.com/products/bicycle-sentences
[13] https://www.rivbike.com/products/bicycle-sentences
[14] https://www.instagram.com/betsystreeter/?hl=en
[15] https://www.rivbike.com/blogs/grant-petersens-blog
[16] https://geni.us/pLVPGGl
[17] https://austinkleon.com/2018/02/20/what-is-the-point-of-keeping-a-diary/
[18] https://austinkleon.com/tag/paper-is-a-wonderful-technology
[19] https://austinkleon.com/tag/logbook
[20] https://austinkleon.com/2021/01/31/what-you-think-is-boring-now-may-be-interesting-in-the-future/
[21] https://austinkleon.com/2017/12/15/on-the-importance-of-revisiting-notebooks/
[22] https://austinkleon.com/2017/10/21/on-this-day/
[23] https://austinkleon.com/2023/03/20/errors-in-western-language/
[24] https://austinkleon.com/2018/11/13/a-year-of-thoreau/
[25] https://cocteautwins.com/
[26] https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz/status/1556296370440400896
[27] https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz
[28] https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz/status/1556296370440400896
[29] https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz/status/1559535799896576000
[30] https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz/status/1559886618575732738
[31] https://twitter.com/jerrysaltz/status/1606742728024494080
[32] https://austinkleon.com/2014/01/19/a-good-spaceship/
[33] https://austinkleon.com/category/miscellany/
[34] https://austinkleon.com/tag/bicycles/
[35] https://austinkleon.com/tag/diaries/
[36] https://austinkleon.com/tag/jerry-saltz/
[37] https://austinkleon.com/tag/notes-on-writing-and-drawing/
[38] https://austinkleon.com/tag/time-travel/
[41] https://austinkleon.com/about/
[42] https://austinkleon.com/about/
[43] https://austinkleon.com/steal/
[44] https://austinkleon.com/about/
[45] http://facebook.com/mr.austin.kleon
[46] http://instagram.com/austinkleon
[47] http://tumblr.austinkleon.com/
[48] http://twitter.com/austinkleon
[49] https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8uQnyh7DAfp4uX9RN7XxEw
[50] https://austinkleon.com/on-this-date/
[51] https://austinkleon.com/2020/10/02/peanuts-remixed/
[52] https://austinkleon.com/2019/10/02/drawers/
[53] https://austinkleon.com/2018/10/02/the-right-book-at-the-right-time/
[54] https://austinkleon.com/2017/10/02/seasonal-time/
[55] https://austinkleon.com/steal/
[56] https://austinkleon.com/steal-audiobook-trilogy
[57] https://austinkleon.com/keepgoing
[58] https://austinkleon.com/show-your-work
[59] https://austinkleon.com/steal/
[60] https://austinkleon.com/journal
[61] https://austinkleon.com/newspaperblackout/
[62] https://cottonbureau.com/people/austin-kleon
[63] https://austinkleon.com/2024/10/01/how-do-you-draw-time/
[64] https://austinkleon.com/2024/09/27/a-plan-and-not-enough-time/
[65] https://austinkleon.com/2024/09/26/autumn-leaves-a-september-mixtape/
[66] https://austinkleon.com/2024/09/24/human-resources/
[67] https://austinkleon.com/2024/09/20/cut-out-verbs/
[68] https://austinkleon.com/books/
[69] http://austinkleon.com/newsletter
[70] https://austinkleon.com/category/reading/my-reading-years/
[71] http://twitter.com/austinkleon
[72] http://instagram.com/austinkleon
[73] http://tumblr.austinkleon.com/
[76] http://facebook.com/mr.austin.kleon
[77] http://instagram.com/austinkleon
[78] http://tumblr.austinkleon.com/
[79] http://twitter.com/austinkleon
[80] https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8uQnyh7DAfp4uX9RN7XxEw
[81] https://austinkleon.com/
[82] https://austinkleon.com/books/
[83] https://austinkleon.substack.com/
[84] https://austinkleon.com/speaking/
[85] https://austinkleon.com/about/
[86] https://austinkleon.com/contact/

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[1]Austin Kleon
• [2]Blog
• [3]Books
• [4]Newsletter
• [5]Speaking
• [6]About
• [7]Contact
• [8][9]
You are here: [10]Blog / [11]Miscellany / Beyond survival mode
Beyond survival mode
Friday, January 18, 2019
[11363958_682236831908301_987442953_n-600x600]
Theres a turn in Dougal Robertsons [12]Survive The Savage Sea that really
touched me. It comes on the familys 25th day as castaways: the sea calms down
and theres a “glorious sunset and a peacefulness of the spirit.” The group
takes turns singing songs to each other. And then:
I felt that we had already gone beyond thinking in terms of survival. We
had started living from the sea as an adapted way of life… we no longer
thought of rescue as one of the main objectives of our existence; we were
no longer subject to the daily disappointment of a lonely vigil, to the
idea that help might be at hand or was necessary. We no longer had that
helpless feeling of dependence on others for our continued existence. We
were alone, and stood alone, inhabitants of the savage sea.
Nina Katchadourian talks about how much of the book (her favorite) is really
about [13]what its like to be a family, and I think thats why this scene
touched me so deeply.
There are moments with children, even in a boring, safe, suburban existence
like mine, where you just feel like youre in Survival Mode. And every once in
a while it lifts and you feel like youve moved beyond just surviving, and you
feel like youre actually living. The children eat their food. You all tell
stories and laugh. Books after tubs with no whining. Youre a quartet, and
youre all performing the same music.
The reasons these evenings are so wonderful is because they are so rare, and in
such stark contrast to those Survival Mode days, when youre just trying to get
rid of the day as well as you can.
Im now thinking about a passage that comes later in the “Analysis” section,
when Robertson offers his thoughts on surviving in castaway situations:
If any single civilized factor in a castaways character helps survival, it
is a well-developed sense of the ridiculous. It helps the castaway to laugh
in the face of impossible situations and allows him, or her, to overcome
the assassination of all civilized codes and characteristics which hitherto
had been the guidelines of life.
“A well-developed sense of the ridiculous”—I cannot think of a better trait for
a parent!
Filed Under: [14]Miscellany Tagged: [15]comedy, [16]dougal robertson, [17]
parenting, [18]survive the savage sea
[19][ ][20][Search]
About the author
[21]Austin Kleon
[22]Austin Kleon is a writer who draws. Hes the bestselling author of [23]
Steal Like An Artist and other books. [24]Read more→
• [25]
• [26]
• [27]
• [28]
• [29]
Subscribe to my newsletter
Join the 200,000+ readers who get it delivered free to their inboxes every
week:
[30]On This Date
• 2020: [31]Peanuts, remixed
• 2019: [32]Drawers
• 2018: [33]The right book at the right time
• 2017: [34]Seasonal time
Get the 10th anniversary gift edition
[35]Steal Like an Artist 10th Anniversary gift edition
Listen to the audiobook trilogy
[36]The Steal Like An Artist Audio Trilogy
Read my books
[37]Keep Going [38]Show Your Work [39]Steal Like An Artist [40]The Steal Like
An Artist Journal [41]Newspaper Blackout
Order t-shirts on demand
[42]t-shirts
Recent posts
• [43]How do you draw time?
• [44]A plan and not enough time
• [45]Autumn leaves (a September mixtape)
• [46]Human resources
• [47]Cut out verbs
More about me
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[1]Practice the future →
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[7]
A working library is a blog about work, reading & technology by Mandy Brown
2024-09-19
[8]Coming home
What do they do,
the singers, tale-writers, dancers, painters, shapers, makers?
They go there with empty hands,
into the gap between.
They come back with things in their hands.
[9]Le Guin, Always Coming Home, page 74
Ive [10]written before about the restlessness inherent to screens, the
inability to ever linger or pause or catch your breath. Its a strangely
disembodied experience, a sense of ceaseless, rustling motion when nothing is
moving at all: electrical pulses flash and gasp beneath the oceans, your mind
strains to catch up, your body remains still save for a few twitching digits,
the shell thats left behind when your spirit evacuates for the mirage of
higher ground. We become as smooth and reflective as the screen itself, all
glassy surfaces and metallic edges obscuring the hollowness within. No need to
fantasize about what it might be like to upload your consciousness to the
machine—most of us are already there.
Its curious, the way we refer to media that comes at us as a stream, whether
of moving pictures or sentence fragments, as if it were the mere flow of cool,
fresh water running smoothly and gently at our feet. But all it takes is one
big storm, and your friendly little stream becomes a gushing torrent of mud and
debris, strong enough to fling cars and houses out of its path, to smash your
own fragile body—itself mostly water and so perhaps sympathetic to the display
of power—against the rocks.
One meaning of the verb “distract” is to separate, to draw apart. To separate
the body from the spirit. To draw apart, or perhaps to draw out, as of a small
animal lured from its den by the smell of fresh grass, only to be met by dust
and talons. Another meaning is madness.
To step into the stream of any social network, to become immersed in the news,
reactions, rage and hopes, the marketing and psyops, the funny jokes and clever
memes, the earnest requests for mutual aid, for sign ups, for jobs, the clap
backs and the call outs, the warnings and invitations—it can feel like a kind
of madness. Its unsettling, in the way that sediment is unsettled by water,
lifted up and tossed around, scattered about. A pebble goes wherever the river
sends it, worn down and smoothed day after day until all thats left is sand.
At some point I became acutely aware of a sense of scattering or separation
whenever I glanced at the socials. As if some part of me, or some pattern or
vision that I cupped tenderly in my hands, was washed away, wrenched from my
grasp before I quite realized what it was. I think of the orb spiders I often
glimpse in my tiny city backyard, delicate webs balanced on two leaves of the
rhododendron and the stem of a laurel. In my own work, Im weaving ideas,
stories, prophesies, metaphors, dreams by the shore of this great, inconstant
stream, and every so often a wave rises up and swallows the whole affair. I
cant predict when a wave will come; I can, at this point, count on it coming.
A wise spider would move a little ways away. But not too far, because this is
where the life is. And so I find myself thinking about how I might get some
distance, what it means to move uphill a ways, to weave my web safe from the
spray. To get out of the flood zone. To come home.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Some weeks ago, I quietly shipped a new content type on A Working Library, such
that I am now writing [11]short, [12]social-[13]shaped posts on my site and
then sending them off to the various platforms. This is not a novel mode of
publishing, but rather one borrowed and adapted from the [14]POSSE model
(“publish on your site, syndicate elsewhere”) developed by the IndieWeb
community. While one of the reasons oft declared for using POSSE is the ability
to own your content, Im less interested in ownership than I am in context.
Writing on my own site has very different affordances: Im not typing into a
little box, but writing in a text file. Im not surrounded by other peoples
thinking, but located within my own body of work. As I played with setting this
up, I could immediately feel how that would change the kinds of things I would
say, and it felt good. Really good. Like putting on a favorite t-shirt, or
coming home to my solid, quiet house after a long time away.
A website is, among other things, a container. The shape of that container both
constrains and makes possible what goes within it. This is, I think, one of the
primary justifications for having your own website. Not just so you can own
your stuff (for some meaning of “ownership,” in a culture in which any
billionaire can scrape your work without permission and copyright only protects
the rich). Not just so you have a home base among the shifting winds of the
various platforms, which rise and fall like brush before the fire. Not just so
you can avoid setting up camp in a Nazi bar. But also so that you can shape the
work—so that you can give shape to it, and in that shaping make possible work
that couldnt arise elsewhere.
I made a decision many years ago to shape my work around the books I read. If
Im being completely honest, I dont recall spending a lot of time thinking
about that decision or contemplating the consequences of it. It seemed right
and so I ran with it. But it has since given rise to a kind of scholarship and
writing that Im not sure I would have landed on were I writing on some
all-purpose platform, or fitting my work into someone elses box. Its allowed
me to cultivate the soil to suit my purposes—rather than having to adapt my
garden to the soil I was given. Not every seed Ive planted has thrived, of
course. But after all these years, some are quite hardy, while others have made
some very rich compost. And I find myself often amazed by what emerges: not
only the seeds I planted but a great many I never anticipated, connections and
stories I didnt see until I was right on top of them, until they were tangled
at my feet. Dark velvety leaves amid glossy blooms, thorns and small sour
fruits, vines that weave and climb and show me the way.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
This is, objectively, a difficult way to publish. Theres a great deal of
friction between an idea or phrase coming to mind and the words making it out
into the world. And I dont mean the writing itself (which, as every writer
will tell you, is dreadful), but the actual mechanics of sharing that writing.
I mean, I am the fool who opens their damn terminal every time they want to
publish; in recent weeks, I have spent a not insignificant number of hours
writing some absolutely criminal CSS. I cannot, in good conscience, advise this
path for anyone with sense. But the choice to do so suits my own proclivities:
a desire to tinker not only with the words but with the strata underneath them,
and a long-running interest in the material reality of publishing. And more
often than not, I find that what I need is some friction, some labor, the
effort to work things out. Efficiency is an anti-goal; it is at odds with the
work, which requires resistance and tension in order to come into being.
This is one of the many reasons why I find the current conversation about [15]
so-called generative AI so immensely frustrating: theres all this hype about
making everything easier and faster, about how we can eliminate all the work
involved in the making of words and images. But no one arguing for this seems
to have asked whats left when the work is gone. What is the experience of
asking for something to appear and then instantly receiving it? What changes
between the thought and the manifestation? I fear that nothing changes, that
nothing is changed in such a making, least of all ourselves. But then, what
does it mean to be unchanged, for your feet to pass so lightly over the ground
they dont so much as disturb the sand? Even the dead make change in the world,
as their bodies decay and and are transformed into food for beasts and bugs and
trees. But in eliminating the effort, in refusing the temporality of making,
the outcome of an “AI”-driven creative process is a phantasm, an
unsubstantiality, something that passes through the world without leaving any
trace. A root that twists back upon itself and tries to suck the water from its
own desiccated veins.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
There was a time when I felt some resonance between spending time in the social
stream and doing my own work. As if the movement of the water imparted some
energy or power I could make use of, and then return. But its been a long time
since Ive felt that way. I grieve that loss: a great number of my closest
friends are people I met in the halcyon days of Twitter, and I find I still
often long for that kind of connection, the ambient awareness of people in
whose company I felt at home. But I know that longing to be a kind of [16]
nostalgia, an unrealizable wish to return to a past that never was quite as I
remember it. I do not want those memories to be a burden, like stones weighing
down my pockets. I want, instead, to carry them lightly and tenderly, to have
the fortitude to accept the grief that comes with leaving the past where it
belongs.
A word about the Fediverse is warranted here. I believe that we desperately
need to be experimenting and developing methods of communication that arent
beholden to either the advertising industry or the brittle egos of
billionaires. Hitching our means of finding each other and forging
relationships to those insatiable appetites is to invite scarcity and fear into
our most intimate alliances. We need room to talk and to take up space, to
listen and to be heard, to organize ourselves, absent that exponential scale of
manipulation. And I think that something like the Fediverse, which seeks to
locate power in small communities, and functions at the level of a protocol
rather than a company, moves us in the right direction.
And yet: as much as the Fediverse is different (the governing structures, the
incentives, the moderation, the absence of ads and engagement tricks), so much
of it is also unsettlingly familiar—the same small boxes, the same few buttons,
the same mechanics of following and being followed. The same babbling,
tumbling, rushing stream of thoughts. I cant tell if were stuck with this
design because its familiar, or if its familiar because were stuck. Very
likely its me thats stuck, fixed in place while everything rushes around me,
hoping for a gap, a break, a warm rock to rest awhile on. Longing for a mode of
communication that lifts me up instead of wiping me out.
And so I remain at an unresolvable juncture: the intersection of the very
strong belief that we must experiment with new modes and systems of
communication, and the certain knowledge that every time I so much as glance at
anything shaped like a social feed, my brain smoothes out, the web of
connections and ideas Im weaving is washed away, and I tumble downstream, only
to have to pick myself up and trudge heavily through the mud back to where I
belong.
Its exhausting. It is, at this point in my life, unsustainable. I cannot dip
into the stream, even briefly, and also maintain the awareness and focus needed
to do my own work, the work that is uniquely mine. I cannot wade through the
water and still protect this fragile thing in my hands. And perhaps I owe to my
continued senescence the knowledge that I do not have time for this anymore.
Perhaps its age that grants the wisdom to know where my attention belongs and
the discipline to be able to direct it. The great power of a middle-aged woman
is that she knows where to [17]give her fucks.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Will it be weird, to write this way? Probably. Im tossing the same words into
(currently) three totally different networks, each with their own affect and
moods and characters of the day. Im keeping my distance, such that I likely
wont hear the replies (at least, not with any timeliness) or see the ripples
my words make, should they make any at all. But maybe we need more weird—not in
the very recent sense of the word, but in the sense of prophesy or potential, a
spell or charm, the magic, the wild, the wyrd—that which is becoming, rather
than that which has already passed us by.
In Madeline Millers beautiful retelling, the Greek witch-goddess Circe comes
to understand the difference between her own magic and the greater gods
divinity:
Let me say what sorcery is not: it is not divining power, which comes with
a thought and a blink. It must be made and worked, planned and searched
out, dug up, dried, chipped and ground, cooked, spoken over, and sung.
[18]Miller, Circe, page 83
Circe is surprised to learn that she loves the work of magic, loves it even
when its infuriating and frustrating, when its filthy and exhausting. (The
reader is not, I think, surprised.) But she doesnt learn that love until she
is exiled, left alone on an island, her only companions the birds and lions and
wild boars. There she comes to see what her sorcery really is. There she goes
into the gap, and discovers that magic is dirt and muscle, work and will,
effort and choice.
Later, she returns to the world. Not to the world of the gods—which she comes
to realize is a lifeless place—but to the mortal world, carrying her small
herbs and potions, her wisdom. But as far as she travels, the island remains
her home, the place she always comes back to.
My own magic is a small one: to write in order to uncover what I think; to
prefigure a future of work that serves the living; to listen intently as people
speak aloud a story of themselves that is, in the speaking, being rewritten.
But it is mine. For too long I have tried to make space for it along the banks,
to keep one foot in the water, to speak my incantations into the wind while the
river slips the sediment out from under me and pulls me ever deeper.
No longer.*
Related books
[19]Always Coming Home
Ursula K. Le Guin
[20][le-guin-al]
An archeology of the future.
[21]Circe
Madeline Miller
[22][miller-cir]
This is a subversive and triumphant retelling of the story of Circe, daughter
of the sun-god Helios.
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[12] https://aworkinglibrary.com/thinking/202408301732
[13] https://aworkinglibrary.com/thinking/202409090848
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[17] https://aworkinglibrary.com/writing/unified-theory-of------
[18] https://aworkinglibrary.com/reading/circe
[19] https://aworkinglibrary.com/reading/always-coming-home
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were all just one more card in the catalog, man
Scott Alexander has [24]responded to my advice that we should not imagine
ourselves to be living in some sort of revolutionary epoch. You can decide for
yourself if hes convincing. I continue to maintain the basic point that a) we
are definitionally more likely to live in ordinary times than extraordinary and
b) we are conditioned to overstate our own uniqueness and importance, not even
as a matter of intellect or character but as a basic reality of cognitive
science, a consequence of living as a consciousness. I would say that, for one
thing, his schema would suggest that someone living in the 1810s or 1860s or
1910s had just as much cause to think that they lived in extraordinary times as
we do, and yet Alexander certainly seems to think that now is more important
than then. I do want to address this one point.
Freddie sort of starts thinking in this direction[25]^6, but shuts it down
on the grounds that some people think technological growth rates have
slowed down since the mid-20th century. Usually the metric that gets
brought out to support this is changes in total factor productivity, which
do show the mid-20th century as a more dynamic period than today. So fine,
lets do the same calculation with total productivity. My impression from
eyeballing [26]this paper is that about 35% of all increase in TFP growth
and 15% of all log TFP growth has still happened during Freddies lifetime.
Lets take as given the claim in the last sentence is true: its still
inarguable that meaningful technological growth has dramatically slowed in the
last 50 years compared to the 100 prior years, to choose an arbitrary but
useful comparison. And if thats true, it suggests that the notion of
continuous exponential human growth is nonsense. And if thats true, it doesnt
in and of itself disprove the narrative that ChatGPT is the Mahdi and will
usher us into paradise, but it does make the overarching narrative of a simple
exponential climb into a godlike metahuman future harder to maintain. If human
development has already slowed significantly, shouldnt that suggest that it
may very well slow further?
I will again refer people to Robert J. Gordons [27]The Rise & Fall of American
Growth, which is where the 1870-1970 and then 1970-current split is best
articulated. I read it, and its a classic academic book that ponderously pours
data on to the same basic observations over and over again. (Just like, for
example, Capital in the Twenty-First Century and many many others.) Thats what
an academic book of that type is meant to do; Its just that I dont expect
anyone else to feel moved to read it. What makes it so valuable, though, is
that Gordon spends so much time looking at very specific economic segments and
not just demonstrating that productivity and growth have slowed but why theyve
slowed in very specific terms. And I cant point to a single piece of evidence
that does a better job than that book. I would, however, suggest that some
common sense would be useful here. Ill spare you from doing my “time traveler
from 1910 traveling to 1960 vs a time traveler from 1960 traveling to 2010” bit
in the main text, but you can read it in a footnote below.[28]1 The fundamental
observation is simply that beyond the various productivity and growth numbers,
the lived experience of being human changed dramatically more from 1870ish
through 1970ish than in the 50ish years since then. To repeat myself, a vast
majority of what we call the advances of modernity stem directly from the
development of cheap, stable, relatively safe, reliable refined fossil fuels,
from electricity generation to cars to planes to modern heating systems to
fertilizers.
[29]
[https]
[30]source
What Im suggesting is that people trying to insist that we are on the verge of
a species-altering change in living conditions and possibilities, and who point
to this kind of chart to do so, are letting the scale of these charts obscure
the fact that the transition from the original iPhone to the iPhone 14 (fifteen
years apart) is not anything like the transition from Sputnik to Apollo 17
(fifteen years apart), that they just arent remotely comparable in human
terms. The internet is absolutely choked with these dumb charts, which would
make you think that the technological leap from the Apple McIntosh to the
hybrid car was dramatically more meaningful than the development from the
telescope to the telephone. Which is fucking nutty! If you think this chart is
particularly bad, go pick another one. Theyre all obviously produced with the
intent of convincing you that human progress is going to continue to scale
exponentially into the future forever. But a) it would frankly be bizarre if
that were true, given how actual history actually works and b) weve already
seen that progress stall out, if were only honest with ourselves about whats
been happening. It may be that people are correct to identify contemporary
machine learning as the key technology to take us to Valhalla. But I think the
notion of continuous exponential growth becomes a lot less credible if you
recognize that we havent even maintained that growth in the previous
half-century.
And the way we talk here matters a great deal. I always get people accusing me
of minimizing recent development. But of course I understand how important
recent developments have been, particularly in medicine. If you have a young
child with cystic fibrosis, their projected lifespan has changed dramatically
just in the past year or two. But at a population level, recent improvements to
average life expectancy just cant hold a candle to the era that saw the
development of modern germ theory and the first antibiotics and modern
anesthesia and the first “dead virus” vaccines and the widespread adoption of
medical hygiene rules and oral contraception and exogenous insulin and heart
stents, all of which emerged in a 100 year period. This is the issue with
insisting on casting every new development in world-historic terms: the
brick-and-mortar chip-chip-chip of better living conditions and slow progress
gets devalued.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
I listened to the [31]latest episode of Derek Thompsons (highly recommended)
Plain English podcast, with DeepMind researcher Pushmeet Kohli. Kohli and his
colleagues are using machine learning in drug discovery, particularly through
the [32]protein folding thats such an essential element of developing new
medicines. This work, they demonstrate, is well-suited to what modern large
language models can do. Its also one of the very, very few places where the
hype for these systems might actually be warranted; the vast majority of
breathlessly-discussed “AI” possibilities would not even be particularly
transformative if they came to pass, which most of them wont. (AI doomerism
relies on the idea that consciousness, superintelligence, and ill intent will
prove to be “emergent” properties of LLMs, which no one can articulate in
remotely rigorous terms and which most actual LLM researchers dismiss as
nonsense.) Drug discovery is definitely a big deal and these tools seem very
promising. The question Derek didnt ask is, I think, a central one: why call
this “artificial intelligence” at all? Nothing that DeepMind is working on
requires “emergence.” Their tools are not agentic/choice-making. They have no
consciousness, nor are they required to in order to fulfill their purpose.
Theyre very powerful systems built on very powerful algorithms but thats
fundamentally what they are, systems built on algorithms. So where does
intelligence come in at all, and why is it necessary?
This is part of the basic poverty of the current “AI” discourse - the core
concept of agentic, self-directed, learning, and conscious computer technology
has given way to just any instance of “a computer doing complicated stuff.”
DeepMind is developing a potentially profoundly-useful technology built on
algorithms that appear to work. Why is that not enough? Algorithms that work
are good enough.
In the podcast, Derek says that GPT has mapped human language. I would push
back against that, forcefully - a map is not probabilistic. You can have a
better or a worse map, but a map is not fundamentally stochastic and GPTs
understanding of language will always have error bars, due to its basic
architecture. This is why “AI” has conspicuously failed in one of the many
tasks it is confidently asserted to be on the brink of solving, which is
producing a complete and functioning syntax for the grammar of a human
language. This was exactly Chomskys point when he and colleagues [33]critiqued
ChatGPT; the modern era of linguistics began precisely when he and his
generation came to understand that language is rule-bound in a way that is
fundamentally neurological and probably genetic. (Which is to say, it does not
rely on the ingestion of data, hence the [34]poverty of the stimulus.) And
thats precisely what LLMs dont do, proceed from a list of static rules and
build understanding step-wise. If they did, tech companies wouldnt be where
they are now, which is trying to somehow ingest more language data than has
ever been produced by all human beings combined in the history of the world.
What unites the two preceding paragraphs is simply this: my confusion as to why
reality itself is never good enough. Why does our culture insist on overselling
and overhyping when there are genuinely impressive developments happening? Is
it just literally about stock prices? I think it might literally be about stock
prices.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Heres some things I think, without any particular qualifications to think
them.
• The speed of light is an actual hard speed limit; various sci-fi tricks
like warp drive and traveling through wormholes have immense practical and
theoretical barriers to being usable and I dont think theyll ever be
overcome
• Time travel into the past actually is impossible, which is why no one has
ever come back to tell us about it
• Even if we achieve speeds on the order of (say) 10% of the speed of light,
which we almost certainly cant for simple relativity reasons, traveling to
potentially habitable stars will take hundreds of years; we have no reason
to believe that cryofreeze/stasis/etc technologies are actually achievable;
multigenerational interstellar travel is likely impossible for all the
reasons Kim Stanley Robinson lays out [35]here; we will therefore never
colonize the stars and in the exceedingly unlikely event that we survive to
see it, well die when our sun expands to become a red giant; we might mine
or colonize planets or moons in our solar system, but that wont
fundamentally change human life
• Theres very likely other life in the universe, even intelligent life, but
given that the cosmic speed limit will apply to them too, well never meet
with any of them physically, and given the distances involved synchronous
communication is essentially impossible
• Quantum entanglement wont allow for faster-than-light communication for
the reasons enumerated in [36]this video
• We dont live in a simulation
• Even if there are many worlds/multiple dimensions well never experience
them directly and thus theyll have no practical impact on our lives
• Well never “upload” our consciousness into computers to live forever,
which suggests that there is some such thing as our consciousness separate
from the physiological structures that contain it, which is a dualist
fantasy
• Artificial intelligences of various kinds will develop and emerge and have
meaningful consequences for humans and improve quality of life, but they
wont somehow enable us to transcend the physical limitations of the
material world, that is, no free energy, no breaking the laws of physics,
no eternal life
• Were all going to die, and its going to feel far too soon for almost all
of us.
Look, stuff is gonna happen. Technology is going to grow. A lot of it will be
good and some of it will be bad. I dont doubt, for example, that in a hundred
years the science of human genomic editing will fundamentally transform many
elements of human life and, in particular, undermine basic human notions of
“meritocracy” and just deserts. Obviously, that could go do a lot of bad as
well as a lot of good. I could also easily see a world, even in a decade or
two, where a significant chunk of the human population spends almost all of its
time in virtual reality and essentially disconnects from actual human life;
that sounds straightforwardly bad, to me, and would justify [37]anti-tech
terrorism. One way or another life is gonna change. Human beings will change.
Life expectancy is going to increase. Were gonna have a lot of cool new toys.
But, fundamentally, we live in a mundane universe and that will never change.
And, crucially, its our nature to adapt to make the extraordinary seem
mundane. Im a big believer in a steady state/thermostatic concept of
happiness, which suggests that we mostly have our own individual levels of
default life satisfaction and we tend to gravitate to that level over time.
Its not that events just dont matter for how we feel; if you fall in love
youll feel more happy and if you go to prison youll feel more unhappy. Of
course you can make your life better and be an incrementally happier person. I
have, over the course of my own life. But we reliably, slowly adapt to change
and float back towards our baseline level of life satisfaction. And with
technology, particularly, things that seem remarkable come to seem boring at a
relentless pace. Smartphone sales have slowed because weve wrung all the
innovation out of them that we can and people now see them as commodities.
Whos excited to upgrade from a Galaxy Sx to a Galaxy Sx+1, no matter how
remarkable the underlying technology? The PlayStation 5 Pro is an absolutely
remarkable piece of human ingenuity, and yet many people feel cynical and
underwhelmed about it, and I dont blame them. The Nintendo64, now, that felt
revolutionary. Is that fair, the ever-ratcheting expectations game? Doesnt
matter. Its human nature.
Ultimately, I do want to tell people to please try and chill out, yes. No, I
dont think AI Jesus is about to come and initiate the Rapture, and the desire
for that to be true seems to be derived from very naked psychological needs. We
live in a mundane world, a world of homework and waiting for the bus and
sorting the recyclables and doing the laundry and holding your shirt over your
nose when you enter a public bathroom and trying to find a credit card that
offers a slightly better points program. It just keeps going, day after day
after grinding day. You never get removed from it, never escape it. And yes,
theres transcendence and beauty and fun and satisfaction and growth and
meaning, all of it! But you find that all in the mundane, generally; those few
who spend their lives in a state of constant stimulation and novelty, well, God
bless them. Most of the time they didnt get there through their choices but
through random chance. Im saying all of this because I think a lot of people
spend their time yearning for some great fissure in their lives where theres a
massive and permanent division between the before and the after, and all of
this AI stuff is giving rational people an excuse to be irrational. (Of course,
this is the number two fantasy behind the great American civic religion,
“Someday, Ill be a celebrity.”)
You have to imagine a life you can live with, where you are, when you are. If
you dont, youll never be satisfied. Neither AI nor anything else is coming to
save you from the things you dont like about being a person. The better life
you absolutely can build isnt going to be brought to you by ChatGPT but by
your own steady uphill clawing and through careful management of your own
expectations. You live here. This is it. Thats what I would tell to everyone
out there: this is it. This is it. This is it. Youre never going to hang out
with Mr. Data on the Holodeck. I know that, for a lot of people, mundane
reality is everything they want to escape. But it could be so much worse.
[38]1
A person living in the United States the 1910s would be someone who
• Very likely did not have indoor plumbing, meaning they used an outhouse,
got water from a well, could not routinely bathe or wash their hands, and
was subject to all manner of illness for these reasons, to say nothing of
the unpleasant nature of lacking these amenities
• Almost certainly did not have an electrified home, the consequences of
which are obviously numerous and significant compared to modern existence
• Had no artificial refrigeration at all and relied on blocks of delivered
ice where possible, which when combined with a lack of modern food
production regulation and hygienic storage led to vastly higher rates of
foodborne illness
• Got around by horse and cart for anything nearby, taking hours to go more
than a few miles; got around by train for anything domestic and far away,
remarkably fast in many ways but still slow compared to plane travel and on
set schedules and from and to a certain set number of places; got around by
steamship if having to travel over water, which was very expensive for
ordinary people and glacially slow compared to modern methods
• Could expect to see their children die at a rate of about 15% in the first
year of life and could expect to die themselves (as the mother) or their
partner to die (as the father) at a rate of about 1%
• Had a life expectancy of about 45 to 50 years if a man and about 50 to 55
years if a woman, and faced the looming threat of the 1918 influenza
pandemic (which killed something like 700,000 Americans) to say nothing of
the constant threats of polio (27,000 cases in the 1916 outbreak alone),
tuberculosis (200,000 new American cases a year and 100,000-150,000 deaths
a year in the 1910s), and all manner of infectious diseases that are now
eminently treatable
• Did not yet have commercial radio, though ham radio technology existed (for
those with access to electricity); nor was there television, obviously;
only 10% of households had a telephone; telegraph technology existed and
was remarkably sophisticated but not very accessible
I could go on. Lets say we teleport our 1910 fellow to 1960.
• Outside of a few stubborn places in the deep South and some truly
out-of-the-way rural locales, almost all American homes have indoor
plumbing, which allows for using a flush toilet, washing your hands,
regularly taking showers or baths, and having handy access to clean water
for drinking and cooking
• The vast majority of American homes are electrified, allowing for indoor
artificial lighting without the fumes or dangers of oil-based light, along
with a myriad of household gadgets and devices
• Most American homes have refrigerators, expanding the kinds of foods that
are practical accessible (with help from modern supply lines and
transportation) and seriously reducing the risks of food poisoning and
similar ills
• 80+% of American households have a car, dramatically expanding the
geographical range that can be traveled, reducing transportation time in
all manner of contexts, and making long commutes for work practically
possible, albeit with major consequences for safety and the environment
• The infant mortality rate in the first year of life has plunged to 2.6%,
while the maternal mortality rate has fallen to less than .05%.
• Mens life expectancy has grown to more than 65 years and womens to about
73 years; the incidence of new cases of polio had fallen to about 3,000 by
1960 and in the next several years the disease would be essentially
eradicated from the United States; there were some 84,000 new cases of
tuberculosis, almost all of them in rural and impoverished areas, and the
survival rate was meaningfully higher; ordinary Americans now had a decent
shot at having access to chemotherapy, antibiotics, heart bypass surgery….
• 90% of American households have a radio, better than 85% have a television,
bringing information and entertainment into the homes of millions; 90% have
a telephone, enabling instant peer-to-peer communication with a vast
network and dramatically improving the capability of emergency services,
practical access to information, the ability to socialize and connect with
those who are geogrpahically distance, etc etc….
Again, I could go on. The 1910 person would find the world utterly transformed.
The interstate highway system, in and of and by itself, is a change thats
absolutely massive in the most practical and physical and meaningful terms.
Every aspect of life has changed in deep, obvious, material ways. Now lets
take someone from 1960 to 2010.
• It is still the case that almost all American households have indoor
plumbing; the number without has fallen, but because of ceiling effects the
amount of change is vastly smaller than from 1910 to 1960; indoor plumbing
has already been accomplished
• It is still the case that almost all American households have electricity;
the number without has fallen, but because of ceiling effects the amount of
change is vastly smaller than from 1910 to 1960; electrification has
already been accomplished
• Most American homes still have refrigerators; theyre nicer and bigger and
more energy efficient but they do the same thing; regulatory standards are
maybe, maybe, maybe a little better?; the range of foods available has
increased, maybe the quality, but the change is vastly smaller than from
1910 to 1960
• The percentage of American households with cars has risen to 90%. That
increase is meaningful but doesnt represent any revolutionary change to
average living conditions. The cars are way, way safer and nicer than those
in 1960, but theyre still almost exclusively burning fossil fuels and
otherwise function in the same way that they did in the 1960s. The
interstate system has expanded but someone driving on it in 2010 might not
even notice any difference since 1960
• The infant mortality rate has fallen from 26 per 1000 in 1960 to 6 per 1000
in 2010. Thats a lot! But its very small compared to the improvement from
1910 to 1960. Similarly, the maternal mortality rate has improved but from
next to nothing to even closer to nothing
• Mens life expectancy has grown to about 76.2 years for men and 81 for
women; again, meaningful and important but simply not at the same scale as
from 1910 to 1960
• Almost everybody has a telephone, but that was true in 1960; almost
everybody has a television, but that was true in 2010. They are much more
sophisticated and now portable and can access far more content, but in both
cases the changes are a matter of refinement and development, not dramatic
innovation. In general, information technology has proceeded at a
remarkable pace, but in terms of the actual lived experience of human
beings, its very difficult to argue that the introduction of the internet
etc can keep pace with the immense practical and material changes
introduced in the previous era.
208
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[51]
Feral Finster
[52]Feral Finster
[53]Sep 16·edited Sep 16
1. Scott and ACX readers seem to have a beef with you.
2. I suspect that we are living in revolutionary times, not merely
[50] because of impending technological advances, but because the likelihood
[https] that the tools we already have will be abused approaches 1:1.
What we have now would make a Himmler, a Goebbels, a Vyshinskii weep
hopt satly pony tears of joy and envy. Already, people of influence and
authority are licking their chops.
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[55]21 replies by Freddie deBoer and others
[57]
BronxZooCobra
[58]Sep 16
There is also the other side of the argument where people are
[56] incredibly uncomfortable with all the magic and wonder that will occur
[https] after they are gone. Its more comforting to think the future will
resemble the now than to think of all that will be that one wont be
around to experience.
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[14] https://substack.com/@freddiedeboer
[21] https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe/comments
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[24] https://www.astralcodexten.com/p/contra-deboer-on-temporal-copernicanism
[25] https://www.astralcodexten.com/p/contra-deboer-on-temporal-copernicanism#footnote-6-148609720
[26] https://orbilu.uni.lu/bitstream/10993/55043/1/s40797-023-00221-x%20%281%29.pdf
[27] https://press.princeton.edu/books/paperback/9780691175805/the-rise-and-fall-of-american-growth
[28] https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe#footnote-1-148918222
[29] https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffba9fb25-337a-43be-8b21-570a4cfe95fc_850x509.png
[30] https://www.researchgate.net/publication/353714693_A_Technology_Countdown_Approach_To_Historical_Timelines
[31] https://open.spotify.com/episode/49QLyJeU56X1DYRhFk0x2S?si=5ebcb656a9f245b7
[32] https://comis.med.uvm.edu/VIC/coursefiles/MD540/MD540-Protein_Organization_10400_574581210/Protein-org/Protein_Organization8.html
[33] https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/08/opinion/noam-chomsky-chatgpt-ai.html
[34] https://web.archive.org/web/20130921205122id_/http://www.philosophy.dept.shef.ac.uk/papers/POS.pdf
[35] https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html
[36] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLqk7uaENAY&t=166s&pp=ygUgY29vbCB3b3JsZHMgcXVhbnR1bSBlbnRhbmdsZW1lbnQ%3D
[37] https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/ants-in-the-server-racks-21st-century
[38] https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe#footnote-anchor-1-148918222
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[55] https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe/comment/69182752
[56] https://substack.com/profile/19997282-bronxzoocobra
[57] https://substack.com/profile/19997282-bronxzoocobra
[58] https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/to-learn-to-live-in-a-mundane-universe/comment/69182974
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[1]Tom MacWright
tom@macwright.com
[2]Tom MacWright
• [3]Writing
• [4]Reading
• [5]Photos
• [6]Projects
• [7]Drawings
• [8]Micro⇠
• [9]About
Crypto's missing plateau of productivity
2024-09-15
I think that even the most overhyped technology usually delivers some benefit
to the world. And often succeeds quietly, long after the hype has died. Recent
examples include 3D printing, which has found massive success in prototyping,
medical applications - a friend had a filling 3D-printed right in his doctors
office - and niche consumer items. Etsy is awash with 3D printed lamps, some
[10]even that I own. Or drones, which are now used all the time in news
coverage, on job sites, and by people filming themselves hiking.
I suspect that even if Augmented Reality doesnt take off, itll leave in its
wake big advances in miniaturized projectors, improved optics, and scene
understanding algorithms in computer vision and ML. The internet of things
didnt really work and most peoples Alexa speakers are only used for setting
alarms, but the hype-wave did justify the deployment of much-needed
technologies like IPv6, Zigbee, and BLE.
So, the thought is: none of this applies to crypto. It didnt work, and it also
didnt fund the development of any lasting technological advance. Theres no
legacy. The crypto industrys research didnt create new foundations for
building decentralized databases. Next-generation cryptography kept rolling on,
and, as far as I know, none of it owes much to the cryptocurrency industry.
Nothing new has been discovered about economics: as Matt Levine says, [11]“One
thing that I say frequently around here is that crypto keeps learning the
lessons of traditional finance at high speed.” Its hard to name anything of
value that came out of this hype wave. We incinerated all that investment, and
randomly redistributed some wealth, and… what else?
The best I can come up with is the popularization of [12]zero-knowledge proofs,
which play some role in Zerocash and Ethereum but are a fundamental advance in
security and have other applications.
Maybe theres something Im missing? But it reminds me of [13]the end of Burn
After Reading: “What did we learn? We learned not to do it again.”
References:
[1] https://macwright.com/
[2] https://macwright.com/
[3] https://macwright.com/writing/
[4] https://macwright.com/reading/
[5] https://macwright.com/photos/
[6] https://macwright.com/projects/
[7] https://macwright.com/drawings/
[8] https://macwright.com/micro/
[9] https://macwright.com/about/
[10] https://www.etsy.com/listing/1001875399/aspen-table-lamp-mushroom-lamp-modern?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=3d+printed+lamp&ref=sr_gallery-1-7&bes=1&sts=1&ret=1&content_source=34ccc20e2da3df5906473c82c6fb7ae0e3bcf572%253A1001875399&organic_search_click=1
[11] https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2024-08-15/stablecoins-can-have-bank-runs
[12] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-interactive_zero-knowledge_proof
[13] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlA9hmrC8DU

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[1]Derek Sivers
[2]Articles:
Wealth = Have ÷ Need
2024-09-27
Not a new idea, but just another visualization and reminder.
Wealth, feeling like you have plenty, is an equation.
Wealth = Have ÷ Need
If you have nothing, then focus on having some.
Once you have some, the easiest way to increase your wealth is to decrease your
needs.
Have 10 but think you need 100? You are poor.
Have 10 but only need 5? You are wealthy.
Have 10 but are happy with 1? You are very wealthy.
Making money depends on other people, so its harder. Its not entirely under
your control. Its an outer game.
Reducing what you need is easier. Its entirely under your control. Its an
inner game.
I used to look for ways to make money, but I havent done that in years. Now I
keep looking for ways to need less and want less.
© 2024 [3]Derek Sivers.
Copy & share: [4]sive.rs/whn
References:
[1] https://sive.rs/
[2] https://sive.rs/blog
[3] https://sive.rs/
[4] https://sive.rs/whn

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Contemporary cycling is all about spandex and personal bests. The bicycle
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A man rides a bike down a dirt path.
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There are places in California that can make a person feel in tune with
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an affluent suburb east of [29]San Francisco, is not one of them. Nestled in
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chain retailers and big-box stores. On a recent summer morning, I took the
train there to meet Grant Petersen, the bicycle designer, writer, and founder
of Rivendell Bicycle Works. Petersen has become famous for making beautiful
bikes, using materials and components that his industry has mostly abandoned,
and for promoting a vision of cycling that is low-key, functional, anti-car,
and anti-corporate. He has polarizing opinions and an outsized influence.
Sensing that it would be uncouth to arrive on foot, and wanting to honestly
communicate my level of commitment to cycling, I brought my bike: a red
nineteen-eighties Nashbar that I purchased in my mid-twenties, rode happily for
a decade, and abandoned when I became pregnant and freshly terrified of death.
The bike had spent the past two years hanging vertically in the garage, where,
from time to time, I accidentally backed into it with the car. The wheels were
out of true, and—a separate issue—couldnt be removed: I had installed locking
anti-theft skewers, then lost the key.
Petersen met me at the BART station. There were ways in which my bike was not
up to Rivendell standards: it had sylphlike tires and an over-all look of
abandonment. He was polite about the situation. “Its steel, it has lugs,” he
said. Petersen is seventy and muscular, with buttony blue eyes, a gentle smile,
and graying hair that gravitates toward the middle of his head, like a cresting
wave. That morning, he was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, a red bandanna,
and loose pants made by Rivendells clothing line, MUSA, which Petersen
developed himself. (“They seem to fit like normal pants, thank god,” a
description on the Web site reads.) He was riding a Rivendell Roaduno, “a
single-ish speed road bike” painted banana-slug yellow, and he set off on the
sidewalk, beckoning for me to follow.
In the past forty years, cycling has increasingly been branded as a form of
exercise, one that emphasizes speed, optimization, and competition. On any
given morning, in Central, Prospect, and Golden Gate Parks, gangs of
white-collar workers—wearing curve-hugging performance apparel and tethered to
the cloud by G.P.S.—whiz in circles, cheating the wind. Indoor fitness
companies, such as SoulCycle and Peloton, have reinforced the image of cycling
as a high-octane cardio workout. Most new, high-end bikes are compact,
lightweight, and hyper-responsive, with carbon-fibre frames, drop handlebars,
and disk brakes, some of which are hydraulic. One of the bikes recommended by
Bicycling magazine last year has a matte-black colorway with “a stealthy
aesthetic”: the cables and wires are tucked inside the frame. The bike is
advertised as “race bred, built for speed.”
Petersen believes that the bike industrys focus on racing—along with
“competition and a pervasive addiction to technology”—has had a poisonous
influence on cycling culture. He dislikes the widespread marketing to
recreational riders of spandex kits, squirty energy gels, and workout apps such
as Strava. He thinks that low, curved handlebars contort riders into an
unnatural position; that bicycles made of carbon fibre and aluminum have safety
issues; and that stretchy synthetics have nothing on seersucker and wool. “The
whole purpose of pro riding now is to create a demand at the retail level for
the really expensive bicycles,” he said. He sees the glorification of
speed—personal bests, constant quantification, metrics, leaderboards—as
discouraging to entry-level riders who might otherwise enjoy life with a bike.
“I would like to see the Tour de France only allow riders to ride one bike the
entire tour,” he said. “Do their own maintenance, change their own flats, the
way that normal people have to. Racing would have a positive trickle-down
effect, instead of the way it is now. Bikes would be better, theyd be safer,
and they would last longer. And the races themselves wouldnt be less
interesting at all.”
Rivendells bicycles are marketed as “UNracing” bikes. The frames are made of
lugged, brazed steel. They have long wheelbases, luxurious chainstays, and
sloping top tubes. “The rear triangle of his bikes, you could fly a plane
through there,” Ashton Lambie, a record-breaking American track cyclist, said
admiringly. “Nobody is doing that.” The bikes have playful names—Roadini,
Atlantis, Hunqapillar, Susie W. Longbolts—and run roughly from two thousand to
five thousand dollars, depending on the build. One of Rivendells signatures is
the country bike: a rig equally suitable for paved roads and, as the company
puts it, “the kinds of fire trails a Conestoga wagon could negotiate, but not
the kind that would require a jackass.” Rivendell frames are generally
outfitted with upright handlebars, leather saddles, manual shifters, platform
pedals, and lush, chubby tires. They are designed to accommodate racks,
baskets, fenders, and bags—whatever is useful for cross-country touring, local
bike camping, and running errands. “Bikes are turning ugly,” Petersen recently
wrote. “I personally have more respect, tons of respect, for somebody who rides
around town, to work, for shopping, and for fun, than somebody who does
front-flips on handrails with a fifty-foot dropoff on one side.” He is an
advocate of pleasurable, unhurried riding—alone, or with family and friends—and
is obsessive about comfort. Through the years, Rivendell bicycles have amassed
a devoted following. People take portraits of their bikes in stunning natural
environments and post them to social media; they “Riv up” non-Rivendell frames;
they pore over Petersens writing, and adopt his preferences. Adam Leibow, the
publisher of Calling in Sick, an “extreme alternative cycling magazine,” told
me, “Some people call Rivendell a cult.”
In Walnut Creek, I tailed Petersen as he pedalled at a leisurely pace back to
Rivendells headquarters. For the past twenty-six years, the company has
occupied a six-bay industrial space in a sleepy area by the highway. One of the
bays is a showroom, though it felt less like a sales floor and more like a
clubhouse. A mobile of lugs, made by a local teen-ager, twirled from the
ceiling. Rows of bicycles leaned nonchalantly against their kickstands.
Rivendells are distinctive: they have Kodachrome paint jobs, elegant decals,
and delicate metal-inlay head badges—a sort of hood ornament for bikes. The
lugs, steel sockets that connect the tubing of a bicycle frame, have patterns
and shapes cut into them—a heart, a diamond, the curl of a leaf. Even the fork
crowns are pretty. In a 1996 catalogue, Petersen wrote that he likes “the idea
of a fine frame being identifiable by brand, even without its paint, decals,
and head badge, if it happens to wind up in a junkyard 100 years from now . . .
in 2095, a hobo art connoisseur could saunter by, see the frame, pick it up, be
drawn to the joints, and say (Burp) Ha!—an old Rivendell.’ ”
[30]Woman standing in front of giant can of prebiotic soda with door.
Cartoon by Lindsey Budde
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We were greeted in the showroom by Will Keating, Rivendells general manager, a
tall lapsed skateboarder in his mid-thirties. He was wearing Vans, Dickies, and
a baseball cap embroidered with the Calling in Sick logo. Rivendell has twelve
employees, a disproportionate number of whom are into vintage cameras; for a
while, the shop had a darkroom. (“Skateboarders tend to follow a trajectory,”
Keating told me. “They skate, then they get into photography, then they get
into bicycles, and then they get into birding.”) On the wall, there were
monochrome photos of Petersens employees and their friends: well-dressed,
tattooed, and helmetless, they rolled through groves of oak and eucalyptus, and
pedalled along sun-dappled ridges. The photographs looked like an ad for
California.
These days, some mainstream bikes incorporate electronics requiring batteries
and firmware: shifters that change gears at the press of a button, or power
meters that collect data on a riders output. “So many basic things are being
teched out of existence,” Petersen said. He saw this as a function of business
incentives: electronics break or need replacement; an upgrade is always around
the corner. Petersens objections are practical but also philosophical. As
bikes become higher-tech, riders lose skills and agency. “A lot of sports have
been watered down,” [33]Yvon Chouinard, the founder of Patagonia, told me.
“People are bicycling, but they have a motor. And people are climbing, but
theyre climbing indoors. Theyre riding big waves, but theyre being pulled in
by Jet Skis. Yet there are a few people that are bucking the trend.”
In the Rivendell showroom, a table held a silver bike frame, fitted with
shifters and a drivetrain: the system of cranks, chains, pedals, and gears that
propels a bicycle. “It gets really sappy if I try to talk about the beauty of a
mechanical movement,” Petersen said. “I dont want to be poetic about it at
all. But I think people like to see how things work.” He turned the crank and
moved the friction shifter—a small, silent paddle that shifts gears smoothly,
“like a ramp rather than stairs,” as the Rivendell Web site describes it—which
was the industry standard until the mid-eighties, when index shifting was
introduced. We watched the derailleur lift the chain from gear to gear. “Its
so simple and so easy,” he said. “It takes a little bit of practice, and its
that little bit of practice that dooms it, absolutely dooms it, in the market.”
Electronic parts, he said, were cheaper and easier to make, and lowered the bar
to entry. “But the thing thats lost in there—its the control that you have.”
I followed him to his office, a narrow room stuffed neatly with tools, books,
fly-fishing supplies, and, on a high shelf, a plastic box full of rare
derailleurs. There were two ergonomic kneeling stools; the landline telephone
was wrapped in a block of ergonomic foam. By the door to the office was a
small, framed color photo of two friendly-looking septuagenarians, standing
next to a pair of Rivendell bicycles. “Are those your parents?” I asked. “No,”
Petersen said. “Thats Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter.”
Petersen grew up in Lafayette, California, a suburb one town over from Walnut
Creek. His father was a mechanical engineer, and his mother was a painter and a
homemaker. Petersen was a well-liked, athletic, outdoorsy kid, and when he
describes his childhood—baseball, paper routes, slingshots, pheasant-hunting—it
can bring to mind a mid-century Boy Scout Handbook. Still, he felt apart from
his peers. “I wet the bed until I was twenty-three,” he said. “It changes your
whole point of view toward life.” He never had sleepovers and was shy around
girls. The problem, a physiological one, limited his future prospects. When he
graduated from high school, in 1972, dorm life seemed impossible. So he stayed
home, enrolled at a local junior college, and, in 1975, began working at the
newly opened R.E.I. outpost in Berkeley, a hub of the Bay Areas energetic
outdoor-recreation scene. (Petersen said that for a time the company instituted
a rule, “No handwritten signs,” after he began taping up long, chatty shelf
talkers for products he liked.) He took up mountaineering and rock climbing,
and commuted to work on his bicycle, a thirty-mile round trip. In the summer of
1976, he and a girlfriend biked across the country, from Walnut Creek to
northern Connecticut, and hitchhiked back.
Throughout his twenties, Petersen raced in local competitions. Chris Watson, a
friend and teammate, said, “He probably doesnt want to tout this fact, but he
shaved his legs like the rest of us.” Most of his peers relied on bicycle parts
made by Campagnolo, an upscale Italian company, but Petersen couldnt afford
them. “I think I had thirteen different brands and seven different countries
represented on my racing bike,” he said. “It was a hodgepodge, but it worked
perfectly.” He was talented but ambivalent about competing. “I know the racing
scene extremely well, I know the culture really well, Im comfortable with it,
and I hate it,” he told me.
In 1984, Petersen took an entry-level job at Bridgestone Cycle U.S.A., an
offshoot of the Japanese tire conglomerate. Bridgestone was Japans largest
bicycle manufacturer, but the American office, which had a half-dozen
employees, was not staffed by bicycle experts. Petersen and Watson, who worked
in the sales department, helped design a bike called the MB-1, which combined
the sportiness and speed of a road bike with the strength of a mountain bike.
“I had more influence over Bridgestone bicycles than I should have,” Petersen
told me. “But nobody knew anything about bicycles except for me.” The bike sold
out immediately, and subsequent models from Bridgestone Cycle U.S.A. bear
certain hallmarks of a Petersen build. Kyle Kelley, the owner of Allez LA, a
bike shop in Los Angeles, described Petersens Bridgestone designs as “some of
the best race bikes in the history of mountain biking, period.” Petersen became
the divisions head of marketing. He formed a subscription club for Bridgestone
riders and enthusiasts, the Bridgestone Owners Bunch, and began publishing a
newsletter called the BOB Gazette. The newsletter had articles, product
listings, Q. & A.s, word games, tips (“next time somebody hoodwinks you into
giving a therapeutic massage, do it with a rolling pin”), and a devoted
readership. BOBs, as they were known, were thrifty, embraced a D.I.Y. ethos,
and valued function over prestige. “I am philosophically for putting cheap,
really high-functioning stuff on a bike,” Petersen told me. “A
twenty-eight-dollar derailleur on a thirty-five-hundred-dollar bike has a kind
of beauty in itself.”
In 1994, Bridgestone announced that it was shuttering its U.S. bicycle
operation. Petersen told me that he had an informal standing job offer from
Specialized, a major bicycle manufacturer, but that he couldnt get excited
about the changes in the mainstream market. Production was moving to China.
Mountain bikes had begun to draw influence from motocross, incorporating shocks
and suspension forks. The introduction of carbon fibre and titanium brought new
manufacturers, including aerospace companies, into the industry. “The
proportions, designs, paint jobs, graphics were hard for me to embrace,”
Petersen said. The timing was not ideal: he and his wife, Mary Anderson, had a
five-year-old daughter and were expecting a second child. Still, in the final
issue of the BOB Gazette, he announced that he would be forming his own
company. “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, Rivendell will reflect my
extreme personal taste,” he wrote.
Within a few months, Petersen raised eighty-nine thousand dollars from friends
and family, and set up shop in his garage. Anderson became the companys
vice-president. Rivendells first product was beeswax, for lubricating bolt
threads; Petersen processed it in his kitchen. He began publishing another
newsletter, the Rivendell Reader, and distributed it to the old BOB mailing
list. “In the simplest terms, I think of bicycles as rideable art that can just
about save the world, or at least make you happy,” he told readers. “Yet so
many modern bicycles are promoted as tools for self-aggrandizement, status, and
hammering the competition to a pulp, and the bikes themselves look like
hoodlums, thugs, and neer-do-wells.” The Reader was rich with information
about bike parts and accessories, and often incorporated Petersens non-bicycle
interests, as with a short physics primer on “Why a Boomerang Boomerangs,”
written by a boomerang designer. The newsletter also included a column titled
“Progress Report,” a detailed journal of the companys development.
Financially, Rivendell was almost always in the red. “Were forging ahead with
little projects that cost loot but will pay off down the road—all stuff a
financial advisor would advise against, Im sure,” Petersen wrote, in 1999, at
a low point. “But the lugs are so fun, and its so ironic that here we are
doing them in an age when almost nobody gives a hoot. Its tragic and funny at
the same time.”
A few days after I met Petersen, I went downstairs to retrieve the mail and
found a cardboard box containing what can only be described as a dossier: old
Bridgestone catalogues, issues of the BOB Gazette, a nearly complete archive of
the Rivendell Reader. The box also included an issue of Outside magazine from
1996, in which there was a story about Petersen—a “messiah to cycling
Luddites”—under the headline “Lead Us Not Into Titanium.” Hed been styled for
the photograph, in baggy jeans and a dark shirt buttoned clerically to the
neck. A Post-it had been slapped over the text: “Hate it,” hed pencilled.
“They made me wear the clothes.” In an issue of the Reader from the same year,
Petersen responded to the article in his “Progress Report”: “Man, I look like a
turkey posing in the damn sunset holding up a frame I didnt even make myself,
and the text has me some kind of damn leader of the *$#@$!#a$#$ flock, and
thats so insulting and misdirected and man, it makes me mad. . . . I dont
hate titanium! Its good material! Its pretty! No rusto! Bravo! Whatever!
Damn!”
Rivendells employees object to descriptions of the companys following as
cultlike. “The other stuff is the cult,” Keating told me. “Putting the suit on,
and going as fast as possible, and using the bars like this”—we were sitting at
a table, and he hunched over his coffee cup, as if to protect it. “Thats the
culty stuff, right? Were just making nice bikes for regular people.” Still,
people kind of get a bug. They buy in. The RBW Owners Bunch, an online forum
for fans, has more than five thousand members, and users post on a daily basis.
People organize “Riv Rides” in their home towns, and name-check their bikes in
their professional bios and Instagram handles. On one afternoon that I visited,
employees were nibbling on a large cheesecake from Juniors, sent by a
customer. Leah Peterson, a nurse in southwest Michigan, and the owner of three
Platypuses—a curvy, elongated upright country bike—sends themed enamel pins to
other Platypus-riding “Riv Sisters.” Some years ago, when she visited the shop,
the crew suspended a large cardboard welcome sign from the ceiling; she and
Petersen cruised around town on a HubbuHubbuH, Rivendells tandem. Several
months later, her father died unexpectedly of a pulmonary embolism. She was
astonished to open the mail and find handwritten notes from the Rivendell
staff. “What company sends you a sympathy card when your dad dies?” she asked
me.
[34]Sperm cells travel together.
“But Im not even a natural leader.”
Cartoon by Victoria Roberts
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An undeniable part of Rivendells appeal is Petersen. The guy has an aura. He
tends to ride in long-sleeved shirts, pants, and Teva sandals, on bicycles
dotted with multicolor nail polish. He wraps some of his handlebars in colorful
felt or tape and hemp twine, then shellacs them. (“I like to put a broccoli
rubberband amidships,” he has written; it adds grip.) From time to time, hell
strap poems to his basket or bars, then memorize them on trail rides. A
pragmatist, he is a fan of what he calls the S24O, or the sub-twenty-four-hour
overnight, a sort of working cyclists staycation—“bicycle camping for the time
challenged”—in which participants ride into nature near their homes, camp out
for one night, and return in the morning. In 2012, he published “Just Ride: A
Radically Practical Guide to Riding Your Bike,” which offers advice on cycling
technique, diet, fitness, and etiquette (“Be saintlike on the bike path”).
Controversially, he is ambivalent about helmets: he believes that most are
inadequately padded, sacrificing safety for style; that our cultural obsession
with them unfairly places the onus on cyclists, not drivers; and that they
instill unearned confidence. (“Dont risk-compensate,” he told me, as I clipped
mine on.) His own helmet, which he wears only occasionally, is augmented with
packing foam.
Petersen keeps a blog, Grants Blahg: a freewheeling repository of business
updates, how-to tips, personal reflections, bicycle information, appreciative
photos of goats, and so on. He takes his interests seriously, and when
something captures his attention—fly-fishing, insulin, behavioral psychology—he
goes deep. He also has strong feelings about soap (pine tar is best), the
figures on American currency (“Put Pooh on a coin”), and spelling bees (“To
titillate the audience, the contestants dont all spell the same words”). He is
less dogmatic about e-bikes than one might expect (“Better than a car”). He
enjoys wordplay; one Rivendell publication, a twenty-page flyer, excluded the
letter “E.” “Its not about the bike, its about the relationship,” Richard
Sachs, a master frame builder, told me. “Youre buying Grant. Youre buying
Grants intellectual property, and his forty or fifty years of staying true to
his belief system.”
Recently, out at a bar with friends, I struck up a conversation with a man in
his late thirties, a climate-impact investor named Peter, who was sitting alone
at a sidewalk table, drinking a beer. Across from him was a Rivendell: an A.
Homer Hilsen frame, with thick tires, side-pull brakes, saddlebags, and
built-in lights, which ran on wheel-generated electricity. Peter said that he
had wanted it to be an “apocalypse bike”: good for commuting, running errands,
and bike camping, but also something he could “hop on after an earthquake and
get anywhere, dependent on no one.” He had been taken aback by how often
strangers initiated conversations with him about Rivendell; I was the third
person to approach him that evening. “Would I have bought this bike if I knew
people would talk to me about it multiple times a week?” he asked. Still, a few
minutes later, he said he was thinking about buying a second.
In July, Petersen enlisted his friend Dan Leto to drive us out to Fernandez
Ranch, in Martinez, for a trail ride. Petersen is a licensed driver but hates
to do it—“It scares me, the thought of hurting somebody”—and estimates that he
has spent ninety minutes behind the wheel of a car in the past four years. When
Leto arrived at the shop, driving a white nineties Ford Explorer (Eddie Bauer
edition), the temperature was ticking toward triple digits. Petersen
disappeared into the workroom, and returned with a blue bandanna soaked in cold
water, which he tied around my neck, like a tiny cape. That morning, he had
taken a sunscreen stick to his face, and his cheeks and forehead were covered
in thick white streaks; an equally sopped bandanna hung around his own neck. He
looked a little crazy. “Sit behind the airbag,” Petersen instructed, pointing
to the front seat; he and Keating, who came along, folded themselves into the
back.
The ranch, a seven-thousand-acre nature reserve, is just off the highway, a few
miles from a Chevron refinery. For much of the year, it is grassy and lush,
with rolling meadows and riots of wildflowers. But this was midsummer, and the
earth was golden, crunchy, and pocked with ground-squirrel holes. In the
parking lot, Petersen eyeballed the bicycle he had brought for me, a moss-green
Clem Smith Jr., with thick tires and upright bars. The seat was higher than I
was used to: I had ridden almost exclusively on pavement, with traffic, and was
used to dropping a foot to the ground at short notice. The previous week,
trying a Platypus at Rivendell HQ, I had slung a leg over the frame, pushed
myself up onto the saddle, and fallen over. Petersen looked at me. “This saddle
height is ergonomically fine but psychologically terrifying,” he said, and
lowered the seat.
The ride that Petersen had chosen was short: a series of switchbacks, climbing
to an overlook, and then a long, voluptuous descent. In the days leading up to
it, he had nervously e-mailed me advice and instructions—on friction-shifting,
pedalling uphill, and coasting down steep descents—appended with apologies for
being “helicopter-y.” His two daughters are about my age, and I had the feeling
that if I hurt myself, consoling him would be the worst part. We started up the
narrow trail, moving from an open field to a shaded grove. The highway and
refinery fell out of sight. I was slow, and not at peace. On the ascent, I had
to walk the Clem a bit, guiding it up the trail like a donkey, and, despite
everyone being relentlessly reassuring and kind, I engaged in a little
therapeutic self-talk to quell my shame at dragging the pace down.
About halfway through the ride, I came to a fork in the road. I didnt know
which path the others had taken, and I stood for a while, appreciating the
shade of the oak trees, the quiet, the bandanna crisping around my neck. I
tried to channel an essay of Petersens, written in 2002, on what he calls
“underbiking”: taking a bike somewhere it isnt obviously built to go. “Riding
an UB changes how you look at any terrain,” he wrote. “You ride where it lets
you ride, walk when it wants you to, and rely more on your growing skills than
on the latest technology.” This struck me as a harmonic way of moving through
the world—not my way, but whatever. I pushed off, found the group, and followed
them down a steep, exhilarating slide. Dry earth sputtered against my calves. I
loosened my hold on the brakes. Even in the heat, with friction shifters I
didnt understand how to use, I felt a flicker of my favorite feeling:
competence. The wide tires were emboldening; the saddle height was
psychologically fine. It was by far the longest, heaviest bicycle I had ever
been on, and it moved with a surprising grace.
We dismounted in the parking lot. The sun returned to being unforgiving. I had
no idea what time it was or how long wed been out. I wanted to do the whole
thing again. I looked at my phone: texts from the babysitter, calendar alerts,
a moldering heap of e-mails. “Dont you just feel like a kid again?” Leto
asked, as he and Petersen began disassembling the bikes and loading them into
the car. I knew what he meant. But I felt, instead, a very adult sense of
longing—as if I had just glimpsed, at a deeply inconvenient time, a new and
appealing way to live.
Petersen often cites, as inspiration for Rivendell, a 1972 catalogue for
Chouinard Equipment, the precursor to Patagonia. In the catalogue, Yvon
Chouinard took his industry to task for the environmental damage of rock
climbing and copped to his own culpability, as a purveyor of steel pitons. “I
can relate to what hes trying to do, because Ive tried to do the same thing,”
Chouinard told me, of Petersen. Like Chouinard, who has expressed concern about
Patagonias size continuing to increase, Petersen is wary of growth. There are
only a small number of factories that do things the Rivendell way. Its lugs,
which are made using lost-wax casting, are incredibly strong but take a long
time to make. The vast majority of the frames are painted by a single person.
“I dont want to dilute anything,” Petersen said. “I dont want to be like
Filson, trying to sell ranch wear to urbanites.”
Last year, Rivendell brought in four million dollars in revenue. The company
sells about fifteen hundred bicycles a year, alongside parts, pants, and other
things that Petersen appreciates, including merino-wool socks and sweaters,
copies of “[37]The Wind in the Willows,” brass bike bells (“Noisy but
friendly”), bandannas (“They come to you stiff”), and Olbas aromatherapy
inhalers (“My often congested son-in-law tried it, and within two seconds
asked, Is it addicting?’ ”). Rivendell works with a small number of dealers,
but sells most of its bicycles directly to customers. The company does not have
a large storage facility, and inventory is limited. “I am no businessman, but
it does seem like perhaps they are leaving some amount of money on the table if
their frames sell out in 4 minutes?!” a friend recently texted me, after
failing to secure a Joe Appaloosa during a presale. “I dont think growth is
necessarily good,” Petersen told me. “When youre making a whole lot of
something, with the goal being profits, there are usually compromises.”
Since 1999, Rivendell has produced Silver, its own line of components, which
include friction shifters, cranks, and hubs. Some are “virtual but ethically
produced knockoffs” of products that have been discontinued by larger companies
such as Shimano and SunTour. “Were trying to become independent of the big
bicycle-parts makers,” Petersen said. “Ten years ago, we could still get stuff
that we liked. Twenty years ago, it was easy. Now its really hard.” The
obsolescence of mechanical parts has been a fixation of his for more than
thirty years: at Bridgestone, he kept an “Endangered Species Calendar,” a
monthly listing of bicycle parts that appeared to be going out of style. Eben
Weiss, the author of the blog Bike Snob NYC, told me, of friction shifters, “If
it wasnt for someone like Grant, you could only get them on eBay. He keeps
them alive.” For five years, Rivendell has been working on manufacturing its
own derailleur. “He doesnt make business decisions,” Weiss said. “He makes
decisions for the love of cycling.”
Image may contain Clothing Hat Adult Person Photography Baseball Cap Cap Baby
Bicycle Transportation and Vehicle
Petersen believes that the bike industrys focus on racing—along with
“competition and a pervasive addiction to technology”—has had a poisonous
influence on cycling culture.
Through the years, some of Petersens ideas have filtered into the cycling
mainstream. People go on S24Os, and refer to them as such. They take road bikes
into the mountains and document their adventures on Instagram, using the
hashtag #underbiking. In some corners of the industry, baskets, racks, and
thicker tires are popular; Petersen is widely credited with bringing an
unfashionable wheel size—the plump, gravel-friendly 650b—back into circulation.
Newer brands such as Surly, Crust, and Velo Orange now make similar frames. But
some cyclists find Petersen overbearing. They are comfortable in spandex and
motivated by a little competition. They dont mind if their bikes wont last
forever. They have their own joy. Armin Landgraf, the C.E.O. of Specialized,
said that his customers like buying professional-tier bikes seen at the Tour de
France for a sense of connection with the sport. “Its a passion,” he said.
The main critique that Petersen faces is that his preferences are needlessly
nostalgic. In 1990, a columnist for Bicycling dubbed Petersen a “retro-grouch,”
and joked that he must be a descendant of nineteenth-century penny-farthing
riders. (An ardent cyclist of my acquaintance, who underwent his own Rivendell
“journey,” told me that he had once worn Petersens recommended brand of wool
underwear on a multi-week tour: “It didnt work out well,” he said. “For my
butt.”) But the same qualities that provoke this critique are part of
Rivendells appeal—as is true of other niche, low-tech products that attract
dedicated enthusiasts, such as film cameras and vintage watches. “Bikes look
very digital these days,” Kelley, of Allez LA, said. “Rivendells look very
analog.” He joked that the typical Rivendell customer is someone who “maybe
still has a flip phone” and listens to vinyl: “They get a feeling when they see
something that doesnt look new.” Georgena Terry, a famed bicycle designer who
specializes in bikes for women, told me that electronic shifting was valuable
for some of her older customers, such as those with arthritis. Still, she
described Petersen as an “icon” in the industry. “Even people who would never
ride one of Grants bikes, because they just think theyre too simple, or
whatever, still have a great deal of respect for him,” she said.
In 2018, Petersen posted angrily on the Blahg about the Trump Administrations
[38]family-separation policies, and was surprised when some of his readers
pushed back. Later that year, Rivendell began offering discounts to interested
Black customers who came into the shop: an effort at anti-racist action, if an
imperfect one. In 2020, Petersen formalized the program, calling it Black
Reparations Pricing, and started the Black Reparations Fund, a donation pool.
Days later, right-wing lawyers accused Rivendell of illegally discriminating
against customers based on race. Petersens lawyers advised him to shut the
program down. The company renamed its charitable fund “Bikes R Fun,” to
maintain the same initials; last year, it gave sixty-two thousand dollars to
charities. Petersen also fund-raises for individuals, including “Grocery Guy,”
a Black checkout worker he met at a local supermarket, and Isabel Galán, a
single mother of three living in the South Bronx, whom Petersen read about in a
Times article about undocumented women. He is interested in making cycling more
inclusive and accessible, although he is aware that the revolution wont be
riding four-thousand-dollar Rivendells. He is currently working on a
multivolume book project, “An Illustrated History of the American Bicycle:
Riding through Racism, Sexism, Pollution, Politics, and Pop Culture.” It begins
with the Big Bang.
Rivendells future isnt obvious, or even inevitable. “For the first ten years,
we were one bad month away from not being able to pay the bills,” Petersen
said. Twice, in 2008 and 2018, the company could barely make rent and payroll.
Both times, Petersen appealed to customers, who purchased gift cards and other
items to reinvigorate cash flow; the second time around, customers bought more
than two hundred thousand dollars in store credit. Rivendell could double its
prices, Petersen said, but he didnt want people to get precious. “They
wouldnt use them as everyday bikes,” he said. It was only in 2020 that
Rivendells finances started to stabilize, after the pandemic-era bicycle boom
and a newfound popularity in the Japanese market. (Keating, the general
manager, credits Blue Lug, a chain of bike shops in Japan, with much of the
companys current health.) These days, Petersens primary concern is getting
Rivendell to a place where his employees, if they want to, can stay for the
rest of their careers. “I know, and they know, and its absolutely clear: if we
quit doing what were doing, nobody is going to pick it up,” he said. “Nobodys
going to do it.”
In August, I joined Leibow, from Calling in Sick, for a weekend ride. At about
nine in the morning, six of his friends, including Keating, gathered at the
base of the Golden Gate Bridge, wearing sweatshirts, plaid button-downs, and
Vans slip-ons. A thick fog hung over the bay, cloaking the arches. Seagulls
drifted in the wind; cars on the bridge passed into nothing. We were headed
into Marin, a popular destination for San Francisco cyclists: on weekends, the
roads are inundated with riders in sleek-looking pelotons, who roll up to
small-town main drags and, rocking lightly in clipless bike shoes, click-clack
into bakeries for halftime refreshments. A few yards away from us, two people
with spandex outfits, matching white helmets, and lithe physiques clasped each
other against the cold. I thought about something Petersen had written on the
Blahg: “A beautiful bicycle in a beautiful biome makes sense.” There was
something romantic about the Rivendells. They made the other bikes on the road
look mean.
Petersen had loaned me an A. Homer Hilsen the color of celestine, with upright
bars and a metal basket. Leibow and two others were on green Rivendell Clem Ls,
a step-through model with an ultra-low top tube, to which Calling in Sick once
dedicated an entire issue. One of the Clem owners said that, on a recent ride,
a stranger on the trail had heckled him, hollering, “Nice that your sister let
you borrow her bike!” Though Rivendells customer base has historically skewed
middle-aged—the target audience for comfort—during the past decade the company
has become popular among younger riders, many of them skateboarders, who have
found that the bicycles are fun, and hardy enough, to take off-road. “The brand
ethos is about being O.K. with going slow,” Leibow told me. “But the reality
is, people who want to go fast go fast, even if its on a Rivendell.”
At a not especially swift pace, we crossed into the hills and started up a
paved, curving road, toward the trail. The ground was littered with sardines,
presumably dropped by birds. Wild fennel grew along the shoulder; Leibow
harvested some fronds to chew on. He and Keating, who have both spent years
riding around the Marin Headlands at night, to take advantage of the empty
roads, seemed familiar with the area at a near-molecular level. At the
trailhead, Keating suggested that we take a little air out of my tires.
“Personal preference,” he said. Then we turned onto a rutted, rocky hiking
path. We rode to a retired battery, which hung over the Pacific Ocean. A gun
pit, filled with water, had been overtaken by newts. Three different brands of
gummy bears materialized. The riders leaned over the pool, eyeballing the
salamanders, shooting the breeze.
The strength and fearlessness of the others filled me with an almost
indescribable envy. What was it like to leave for a long ride at dusk—or cycle
off into the woods with a sleeping bag, a patch kit, and some groceries—and be
reasonably assured youd have a great night? The world seemed divided between
two types of people: those with a command of the physical world, and everyone
else. The former had confidence, skill, and know-how; the rest of us had
YouTube tutorials on removing anti-theft skewers.
Back in the city, I parted ways with Leibow and company. For the first time in
a long time, I had no particular place to be. It was pleasant to be
purposeless. As I passed other riders in Golden Gate Park, I was aware that the
Homer was signalling like crazy to an in-group, and I felt like a poseur: if
someone had a question about, say, the drivetrain, I wouldnt have an answer.
But I wanted to—not for cachet, but because it felt right. I thought about all
the ways relentless optimization could contort a good time. I felt a not
unfamiliar anxiety about Stuff, its overabundance and baseline cheapness. I
tried not to get clipped by an e-bike.
A few weeks later, I went out to Walnut Creek to return the loaner. Since our
last meeting, Petersen and I had exchanged dozens of e-mails: about Virginia
peanuts, rubber bands, and a ride hed taken with his nearly two-year-old
granddaughter on a Rosco Bebe—a Rivendell designed to hold a baby
carrier—during which hed fed her berries and figs foraged from the saddle.
“Bicycles!” he wrote, at one point. “Eventually get a really good one that
works for your life and is beautiful and you love. Its just basic.” When I got
to the showroom, my red Nashbar was leaning against a wall. Amid the
Rivendells, it looked a little wan, and much smaller than I remembered. I was
happy to see it. Still, before I left, Petersen sent me around the block on a
grape-purple Platypus. I cruised past the auto-body shops and a restaurant
puffing anise-scented air. The Platypus was agile, and sturdy as a parade
float. “You could have that bike for the rest of your life,” Petersen said.
“Imagine that frame, fifty years old, how beautiful that would be.” ♦
Published in the print edition of the [39]September 23, 2024, issue, with the
headline “Joy Ride.”
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Attention, Spoiled Software Engineers: Take a Lesson from Googles Programming
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Sep 23, 2024 6:30 AM
Attention, Spoiled Software Engineers: Take a Lesson from Googles Programming
Language
The language Go hails from an era when programmers had smaller egos and fewer
commercial ambitions. My generation of strivers has a lot to learn.
A marbel squirrel sculpture in a garden
ILLUSTRATION: SAMUEL TOMSON
Save
Save
Many of todays programmers—excuse me, software engineers—consider themselves
“creatives.” Artists of a sort. They are given to ostentatious personal
websites with cleverly hidden Easter eggs and parallax scrolling; they confer
upon themselves multihyphenate job titles
(“ex-Amazon-engineer-investor-author”) and crowd their laptops with
identity-signaling vinyl stickers. Some regard themselves as literary
sophisticates. Consider the references smashed into certain product names:
Apache Kafka, ScyllaDB, Claude 3.5 Sonnet.
[42]Machine Readable
An 8 bit lips character looking suspicious with its hand on its chin.
A regular column about programming. Because if/when the machines take over, we
should at least speak their language.
Much of that, I admit, applies to me. The difference is Im a tad short on
talents to hyphenate, and my toy projects—with names like “Nabokov” (I know, I
know)—are better off staying on my laptop. I entered this world pretty much the
moment [43]software engineering overtook banking as the most reviled
profession. Theres a lot of hatred, and self-hatred, to contend with.
Perhaps this is why I see the ethos behind the programming language Go as both
a rebuke and a potential corrective to my generation of strivers. Its creators
hail from an era when programmers had smaller egos and fewer commercial
ambitions, and it is, for my money, the premier general-purpose language of the
new millennium—not the best at any one thing, but nearly the best at nearly
everything. A model for our flashy times.
If I were to categorize programming languages like art movements, there would
be mid-century utilitarianism (Fortran, COBOL), high-theory formalism (Haskell,
Agda), Americorporate pragmatism (C#, Java), grassroots communitarianism
(Python, Ruby), and esoteric hedonism (Befunge, Brainfuck). And Id say Go,
often described as “C for the 21st century,” represents neoclassicism: not so
much a revolution as a throwback.
Back in 2007, three programmers at Google came together around the shared sense
that standard languages like C++ and Java had become hard to use and poorly
adapted to the current, more cloud-oriented computing environment. One was Ken
Thompson, formerly of Bell Labs and a recipient of the Turing Award for his
work on Unix, the mitochondrial Eve of operating systems. (These days, OS
people dont mess with programming languages—doing both is akin to an Olympic
high jumper also qualifying for the marathon.) Joining him was Rob Pike,
another Bell Labs alum who, along with Thompson, created the Unicode encoding
standard UTF-8. You can thank them for your emoji.
Watching these doyens of programming create Go was like seeing Scorsese, De
Niro, and Pesci reunite for The Irishman. Even its flippantly SEO-unfriendly
name could be forgiven. I mean, the sheer chutzpah of it. A move only the
reigning search engine king would dare.
The language quickly gained traction. The prestige of Google mustve helped,
but I assume there was an unmet hunger for novelty. By 2009, the year of Gos
debut, the youngest of mainstream languages were mostly still from 1995—a true
annus mirabilis, when Ruby, PHP, Java, and JavaScript all came out.
It wasnt that advancements in programming language design had stalled.
Language designers are a magnificently brainy bunch, many with a reformist zeal
for dislodging the status quo. But what they end up building can sometimes
resemble a starchitects high-design marvel that turns out to have drainage
problems. Most new languages never overcome basic performance issues.
But from the get-go, Go was (sorry) ready to go. I once wrote a small search
engine in Python for sifting through my notes and documents, but it was
unusably sluggish. Rewritten in Go, my pitiful serpent grew wings and took off,
running 30 times faster. As some astute readers might have guessed, this
program was my “Nabokov.”
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This is not to say that Go is a perfect language. Its more workhorse than show
horse. And it came out 15 years ago, enough time for a stream of breakup
stories and critiques to cycle through the industrys paper of record, Hacker
News.
To wit: Many find Go code ugly. Theres a procrustean uniformity to it, and it
lacks the tidy shorthands of, say, Ruby or Python, so even common patterns can
become messy and cluttered. (Ask a Go programmer about “error handling.”) Also,
you cant run the code, even with correct syntax, unless certain styles are
strictly followed. Imagine a word processor that does not allow you to save
unless your essay is free of grammatical errors.
Im happy to admit that Go lacks the ergonomics of newer languages. But I
struggle to dispel the suspicion that these are the complaints of a spoiled
era. If the chief engineer of the first-generation Ford Mustang were tasked
with designing a new line of cars, and did so remarkably—models of practicality
and workmanship—would you complain about them having no touchscreens?
Its odd to think how young the field of computer science is. Alan Turings
paper that launched the field is less than a century old, and we live in a
small window of time where pioneers are alive and professionally active, even
into their eighties. Go is a language created by people who had nothing left to
prove.
I hope it isnt too contrived to speak of a “late style” in programming. The
idea is usually attributed to the German philosopher Theodor Adorno, who
observed a growing contradiction and alienation in Beethovens later work. The
literary critic Edward Said expanded on the notion in his posthumous book On
Late Style, discussing how some artists, when facing impending mortality,
reject traditional artistic closure and instead embrace fragmentation and
unresolved tension.
What I find more intriguing—and rarer than we might have thought—are the cases
where masters in their later years do accept a certain closure and, as Said put
it, maintain a “spirit of reconciliation and serenity.” Social media has
provided us with the disappointing yet sobering spectacle wherein supposedly
accomplished individuals—since were talking technology here, certain computer
scientists in AI who shall remain nameless come to mind—regularly engage in
unseemly reckonings with their residual baggage.
But when I think about Go, I feel a sense of serenity. Instead of involving
themselves in spats with young kvetchers, the Go team directs you to their FAQ
page—the gold standard of FAQ pages—written in a gentle, statesmanlike tone.
And with that, they rest their case. I suppose thats where some people do end
up: completely, even plainly, at ease with their work. To know its possible,
someday, perhaps, is a balm. Maybe my generation will learn to tame our egos
and find our footing. We still have a few decades to make it so.
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