Category: Aesthetics

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Aesthetics Internet Culture

Day 369 and Reeeee!!!

Maybe it’s human nature to be a bit catastrophic. We are so self centered we thought the sun revolved around us. Took centuries of science for someone to propose another framework. Completely revolutionized science by thinking hey what if what we think is true isn’t?

Narcissistic thinking is our vibe. But also Jesus fuck it feels like the world is going to hell. What if I am living in uniquely bad times? Maybe this is just old person thinking and I need to accept I can’t see reality with sparkling clarity. Or at least the most optimistic permutations of reality. Time isn’t linear and all.

I’m simultaneously planning for an incredibly positive future while I’m also freaking the fuck out. It’s straight up Dickensian. Best of times worse of times. On the one hand I have never been more excited about where technology is headed. Web 3 really might move forward a freer more open market capitalism for everyone. But also my county is on fire and a thousand homes were destroyed in a fire brought on by drought and heat and bad land use.

It’s just extremely jarring to be living a positive optimistic life where I’m excited to buy a home and invest in new founders while also incorporating risk from climate change and political instability. And I won’t even get into whether we need to give a fuck about the pandemic anymore

Pepe frog in a rage in red background

It’s enough to make you go REEEEEEE. Which is a meme that I think should freak me out a little as it bubbled up in kek rare pepe memes on 4chan. Which have filtered into some safe uses but are still tightly wound to meme magic alt-right. But that’s part of why everything is so scary today! Am I a Nazi fascist for using this meme? Who knows! Reeeeeee!! Cancel me daddy!

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Aesthetics Media

Day 366 and Auld Lang Syne Motherfuckas

I’ve got a routine with this blog. I’ll write my post. Then I’ll tag it and hit publish. But before I put it on Twitter for everyone to see, I text it to my friend Phil. He doesn’t always respond. I doubt he’s read every single post. Even I haven’t. But he’s the first person to get a link. I’m not entirely sure how I established this routine but it might have something to do with a video series called The Burg. Let me explain.

Back when Phil and I were idiots in our twenties, we lived in Williamsburg Brooklyn. It used to be the hipster neighborhood. And because the creative class is what it is, someone decided to make a short video series about living there because narcissism. Phil and I were obsessed with this series. It was before professional quality had become a worthwhile investment for YouTube content so we didn’t have endless options. The show felt like it was meant for us. Someone actually bothered to script and shoot a show about solipsist hipsters in our own neighborhood.

The show made a special new year’s episode. In it the characters play a game where they do absolutely unthinkably cruel thing to their friends. But it all must be forgiven at midnight because “Auld Lang Syne motherfuckas!” Their tradition is you have to forgive each other no matter what has been done. The song demands it apparently. It’s actually a really beautiful meditation on friendship and the capacity we have to hurt the ones we love the most. Also hipsters are assholes.

Now because Phil and I were idiots as kids, we also did unthinkably cruel things to each other. Just like on The Burg. We had massive blow ups. We didn’t speak for a few years. But somehow we started a tradition of sending each other the Burg’s Auld Lang Syne episode at midnight every New Years. I guess we knew we needed a ritual to find a way to forgiveness. Without it we would have drifted apart. With it we’ve been friends for fifteen years.

We are long past those volatile years thankfully. But we still text each other Auld Lang Syne as the year turns without fail. I went so far as to download a copy of the episode in case the cloud isn’t a safe space for it anymore. I have to have to accessible to send to Phil at the stroke of midnight.

So this is a roundabout way of explaining why Phil always gets the link first. A habit I also started fresh on a New Years Day. He’s the first person I start fresh with on New Years. He embodies the spirit of forgiveness and new beginnings for me. So every day now he gets a link. He probably wishes he didn’t. But Auld Lang Syne motherfuckas! He’s got to forgive me.

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Aesthetics Emotional Work

Day 362 and Round Ups

I’ve only got three more days before I can officially say I’ve written something every single day for a year. I had it in my head I would go through everything I’ve written and tease out some themes. Maybe I could find a few sections and label “best of” posts. But I haven’t done it yet.

Partially I’m too lazy. Digging through tags and trying to make something coherent out of an exercise that has always been about being in the member seems like a stretch. I’m sure there are probably analytics I could look at but I’ve actually only ever glanced at what posts get read and who shares the content. One of the reasons I’ve loved this space is simply because I’ve done so little to cater to anyone but myself. It’s a journal that’s public but with little actual public input.

I know that sounds a little crazy. Clearly I’ve got to be writing this for someone or else why wouldn’t it be in a private journal? I’ve never had a good answer to that. I feel accountable to some kind of existential audience. That by commuting to hit publish every day I’ve promised some “other” I will abide by my commitment. But it never extended beyond the daily discipline of actually doing the writing. I need an outside world to feel the pull of obligation but I’d rather not go further than that. That somehow invokes readers & optimization or god forbid fans.

So I’ve yet to find the roundup post topic that feels like me. But I also feel like I might owe myself some kind of synthesis. Some learning or insight that comes from having engaged consistently and steadily in an endeavor. But it’s on my mind.

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Aesthetics

Day 357 and Festivities

I’ve had a bit of a comically disastrous holiday season. Early in December I tore two ligaments in my ankle. I was immobile stuck on the top floor of the house for about two weeks. Just as I was getting back my ability to bear weight on my feet my husband Alex got really sick. At first we thought it was a cold. But surprise we both had Covid! Cue quarantine.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and we’ve done nothing remotely festive all month. When I was off my feet it didn’t seem achievable to go get a Christmas tree. We had this idea we’d get it once I was walking because well picking out the tree is part of the fun right? Turns out this was a tactical error as now neither one of us can go anywhere as we are isolated at home so we don’t spread Omicron. No pine scents and twinkling lights for us!

The funny think is Christmas I went all out on making our home as cozy as I could. With the pandemic isolating us I felt like it was the perfect opportunity to enjoy a season of light at home.

And I went all out. I spent like $200 on shipping IKEA ornaments & candles. I bought out the entire seasonal line up at Trade Joe’s. I bought a fucking stand mixer and made five types of Christmas cookies. I stuffed boots for St Nick’s Day. I baked rolls and light candles for St. Lucia. I made an elaborate 3D advent calendar. I sent hand written Christmas cards. And lest you think I ignored Chanukah we made latkes from scratch. We lit the menorah and said prayers each night. We did the traditional Feast of the Seven Fishes for Christmas Eve. We did stockings. We made a roast. We watched Die Hard. We got Chinese delivered.

But this year we’ve done nothing. Absolutely nothing. I haven’t even do much as done a boxed cookie recipe. No candles have been light. No advent doors opened. We haven’t eaten anything I’d qualify as even remotely seasonal. I’m not even sure what we’d do at this point we are both too exhausted to cook.

But I don’t feel bad about it. Maybe I’ll get a pie from Whole Foods. Maybe it’s because I did so much last year that I don’t feel like I’ve got to celebrate in any particular way. For me Christmas has always been about receiving the quiet optimism of a better future. The end of the year and the transition to a new one is a reflective space. I don’t need it to look any particular way to feel the spirit of the season. I’ve been so incredibly lucky this year. And even in the last month, bad as some of it was, I’ve achieved more then I could have imagined. I’m going to be alright no matter what.

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Aesthetics

Day 342 and Cosmetics

I’ve barely worn any makeup since the pandemic started. If you knew me in my former life as a cosmetics CEO this might surprise you. But I found that I had mostly worn makeup (also fashion) for other people. I found it fun and enjoyable for social signaling purposes but otherwise didn’t engage in it for personal pleasure.

But today I found myself wanting to wear some eyeshadow. Not a tasteful nude from a basics palette of pressed powder. No I wanted to put on some velvety cream with some shine to it. Maybe even a bit of sparkle.

Initially the desire came over me because I haven’t been able to get a Christmas tree or set up decorations yet as I’ve been immobilized to heal a ligament injury. I thought a little bit of shine would make me feel a bit of the season spirit. I wasn’t going to be able to trim the tree for a bit but I could trim myself in something tinsel colored.

This desire to do something for fun and for myself isn’t something I’m used to. I have a bit of paranoia about using too much energy on something frivolous. Like I’ll regret having had some fun if later I felt too tired for routine obligations like working out or cleaning up. I’ve even been known to put off activities if I know I need to wash my hair and do a big bout of grooming. Laugh all you like,but with chronic pain in my spine bending over to clip and file nails takes it out of me!

So I take it as a good sign that I found the idea of doing something unnecessary and energy intensive like putting on some eyeshadow sounded like fun.

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Aesthetics Preparedness

Day 339 and Doomer Optimism

I write a mini-festo for the Doomer Optimism community. I am sharing it here today as well as gosh darn it I wrote it so it counts.

I come from hippie utopian stock. My parents, both working class union types, moved us to the promised land of Silicon Valley right before I was born. The family lore concludes that my father had no job on the day I came into the world as he was pitching a startup. My parents believed in the promise of computing, and eventually, the internet, to connect free thinking humans in a culture of collaboration and self-sufficiency. The do-it-yourself ethos of Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth Catalog combined with a heady blend of technical opportunity and growth that is well chronicled in What The Dormouse Said. This gives you a sense of cultural milieu in which I was raised. The sixties had long given way to the Reagan revolution and the rise of Clinton’s neoliberalism when I came on the scene, but I never forgot my roots. I invest in startups to continue that legacy of autonomy and freedom at my own fund chaotic.capital.

“Remember what the dormouse said: feed your head.”

For me doomer optimism is the continued braiding of those cultural strands. Each one of us is capable of connecting to each other and enabling ourselves, individually and collectively, to lead the life of flourishing and growth we seek. We want tools and information that feed our head but also crucially our heart. The key insight that these very different culture strains, hippie and technology, have shown us, is that individual empowerment is what ultimately connects us to our tribes. 

How does it work? Well, natural law is pretty simple. The laws of thermodynamics are clear.  “If you do not fuck around, you never find out.” As we cede autonomy to others, we cede our capacity to fuck around. The inexorable logic of that, means we also cede our capacity to find out. Without the natural chaos of energetic entropy pushing man against nature, we get stuck. We stagnate in the local maxima. 

And we long to find out. We want to find our communities, our families, our capacities, and our passions. That is how we build. That is how we invent. That is how we solve our problems. Humans are capable of huge creative leaps. Massive shifts in capacity have risen in a blink of an eye. We can solve our problems, and indeed have been doing so, for millennia. But the only way we do is if we fuck around. Otherwise we will never find out what we are capable of overcoming. No matter how dire our problems we can rely on the deep laws of energy. So don’t be afraid, go and fuck around. We are counting on you to find out.

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Aesthetics Chronicle

Day 332 and Advent

I don’t talk about it much but I am a Christian. Not the American evangelical type but more of the original reformation Calvinist type. I happened to be taking set theory at the same time as I was reading Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion. God is the set of all sets. Which cannot exist. You probably follow my logic from there. Math and divinity school are a weird mix.

I like routine and rhythm and even seasons. I particularly like holidays and the way we set our calendars by them. The holy nights between Christmas and epiphany are some of the most sacred in my own calendar as I use them for rest and reflection. It’s the space between the in breath and out breath of the year.

Tonight is the first night of advent. It’s the 4th Sunday before Christmas. Advent, from the Latin adventus and the Greek parousia, means arrival or coming. I guess strictly speaking it’s the liturgical calendar’s preparation for the nativity of Christ but also maybe the second coming. Apparently no one knows exactly when Christians decided to celebrate advent (maybe the Council of Tours?), but it seems to involve fasting.

I have an advent wreath and candles. I am ready to celebrate the changing seasons. I like the idea that the end of the year is the beginning of the new one. Beginnings and endings now being so wrapped up in the Christian calendar that we don’t even remember what pagan light festival they replaced. Winter solstice is just a part of the season now. The first Sunday of Advent are coinciding with the first not of Chanukah this year. Festival of lights are aligning this year. I’ll be lighting a lot of candles to see myself into the end of this year.

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Aesthetics

Day 317 Walk Without Rhythm

I struggle with accepting the reality that humans have natural rhythms. I struggle even more with the idea that living by them is to my benefit. Circadian rhythms and seasonal rhythms control our days and nights. The body craves the repetition that rhythm brings even as the mind rejects the idea that we are behold to it.

Call it a Calvinism of the body. We are predestined to our rhythms. We’ve got freedom to chose how we live, so even though rhythms bring strength to our bodies, our mind strains against the constraints. We must have free choice we say. Except what good does it bring us to reject our natural physical rhythms?

There are many types of rhythms. Our world is built out of them. Regular, random, progressive, alternating and flowing rhythms give shape and order to everything around us. All of our art forms leverage the beauty of rhythms freedom and constraints. Nothing is new under the sun but the combinatorial possibilities are infinite.

I’d do well to retain that sense of wonder at the infinite as I fight against the sense of indignation that I am limited by rhythms. We are all limited by the forms in which we exist. Until I get to discover what is beyond the veil of physical existence I’m stuck. Maybe beyond that I’ll find the formless freedom of pure comprehension. Or maybe I can learn that freedom always comes with the constraints of its medium. That doesn’t mean I’m not free to be creative within the form I have.

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Aesthetics

Day 312 and Future Perfect

After a disastrous year in San Francisco, in which I broke up with a cheating boyfriend and discovered I was almost completely incapable of integrating into the culture of the startup which has purchased mine, I fled to Williamsburg Brooklyn.

I had rented, sight unseen, a bedroom in a large converted industrial loft on North 6th and Berry off of Craigslist. The lease holder was bald Turkish hipster with a corporate job working IT at Bank of America. He loved partying and dance music. We rarely saw each other. It was an ideal home for a 24 year old.

The loft was above a furniture store called The Future Perfect. They had extremely expensive, extremely tasteful shit. The owner David was very nice but he probably knew that his neighbors would never be able to afford the designs he stocked and curated. Well, at the time.

The building shared a courtyard backyard so I got to fantasize a little about having great taste through exposure. My proximity to Future Perfect’s design slowly shaped my taste, even though I slept on a $300 futon whose defining feature was pebbled black pleather.

I never really believed I’d live a life where I had the stability that investing in furniture required. I mostly had sublets and moved by trash bag and taxi. My godfather introduced me to his “guy” for moving which let me acquire some Ikea but otherwise I didn’t invest. I was used to instability having moved a lot as a child.

Maybe that’s why the furniture store spoke to me. Future Perfect. A future that is perfect is one you will never live in. So it’s safe to indulge in the fantasy, knowing you will never take any real steps towards making it reality.

An older male friend of mine, who I had wanted to fuck but who never reciprocated, bought a couch from Future Perfect. I was impressed by his good taste and capacity to invest in real furniture. He had taken on a lease in a building in SoHo with plans for spending part of his time in New York. He let me stay there when he wasn’t. I luxuriated on the couch. I remember reading Watchmen for the first time on it.

At some point he decided New York just wasn’t for him. Or at least having a lease there wasn’t worth it. He asked me if I had a moving guy. I gave him the name of the guy my godfather has introduced me too. I got a phone call a week or two later.

“I’ve got a couch for you. Can I bring it up?” My mind was blown. My friend had just given me the couch. He didn’t even make a big deal about it. He just paid my moving guy to pick it up and deliver it to me. I cried. I loved that couch. It was the first truly nice piece of furniture I could ever call my own.

Sometimes I think about how my friend had more faith in the future than I did. That he was willing to invest in making his current moment perfect in a way I never could. I still have the couch. I moved it cross country with me to Colorado. It’s no longer the nicest piece of furniture I own. But only just. I invested in a working desk a few months ago. But nothing will ever rival the Future Perfect couch in my heart.

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Aesthetics Preparedness

Day 308 and Apocalyptic Aesthetics

It’s a pretty open secret that I’m a prepper. And by secret I mean I’ve been quoted in The New York Times and the BBC for being a new kind of “socially acceptable” preparedness aficionado. That basically means I’m not a conspiratorial reactionary but a nice white lady with politics that aligns with the powers that be. I say things like being prepared is the socially responsible thing to do for your community if you are privileged.

I got interested in preparedness because my family has been through a few natural disasters. My brother was in Louisiana during Katrina. My parents have survived a few fire season scares in Colorado. I was in Lower Manhattan during Hurricane Sandy. Watching the power grid go out for ten days in a city like New York changes you.

Now granted I’m still a libertarian and I’m from the mountain west so I’m not too far off the mark of prepper aesthetics. I picked up a lot of shall we say “heritage” skills as a kid with farming, animal husbandry and lots of camping. So it didn’t seem too intimidating to act like a Boy Scout and be prepared. But compared to what the rest of prepper and survivalist universe gets up to I am probably one of its most palatable emissaries.

I’ve been refining some of my longer term preps recently as I’ve been making the transition from being an urban prepper to scouting for a sustainable homestead. That means I’ve been looking for inspiration on what to prioritize. And holy shitballs has the apocalyptic aesthetic gotten even weirder. I read a book called Black Autumn that started pretty normal with lots of practical details about grain milling & food storage. But maybe the the cover should have clued me in.

The damn book ended with, and I am not making this up, a war between illegal Mexican immigrant “gangbangers” and the nice white folk in the Salt Lake City adjacent homestead. It ended up being “operator” porn. If you don’t know what that is read this piece on Black Rifle Coffee and the aesthetics of marketing to conservatives. Americans have a hard on for the military even if they never served.

I’m kind of mortified this is now in my Amazon history. Folks in the analytics department are going to start marketing even more reactionary shit to me. And deservedly because I bought another book called Day 299 (in case you hadn’t noticed I label my shit by the day too) in which some white guy goes from generic conservative “the government is bad” to full blown only alpha male traditionalist reactionary. I’m a third of the way in and I’ve so far gotten exactly zero useful preps out of it. At least the racist operator porn gave me a good tip on a wood fired stove for my fantasy homestead in Montana.

Apparently there is an entire genre of apocalypse fiction and all the books covers are guns, country and God. Which are all things I value too but like let’s tone it down people. Preparedness shouldn’t be the province of one political affiliation. Natural disasters are happening more frequently whether you believe in climate change or not (if you don’t think the climate is changing well you can’t borrow my grain or my rifles). Being a prepper doesn’t mean you are a MAGA, a good ol’ boy, a conspiracy nut or a Christo-fascist neoreactionary. Hell you probably aren’t a blue lives matter bootlicker if you are also a staunch 2A small government type. But the aesthetics sure make it look like it. This Mark Goodwin dude must be really weird in bed.

Books covers by Mark Goodwin. Meltdown and Ava’s Crucible.

Everyone needs water, food and shelter. And we’ve been skeptical of FEMA since the X-Files movie so it’s not exactly news that self reliance is critical. So if you write apocalypse fiction please convince your publishers to chill on the imagery. I get that sex sells but the aesthetics are cringe and that’s keeping people from being prepared.