Tag: Lies

Categories
Politics Preparedness

Day 808 and Left Eye

I’m literally sick to my stomach. I’ve got a twitch in my left eye. We’ve got dozens of competing factions in a massive narrative war online gunning for total social collapse and I’ve got multiple actual real live friends I care about deeply who think that THIS IS IT. Lemmings off a cliff would not be too far off as a metaphor.

There are multiple state, corporate, private entities working on a narrative collapse. Every single one of us needs to push back and say no. My only advice is to simply ignore them if you have already done basic preparations for your own life. If you haven’t it’s probably too late to do much more than treat this like a snowstorm.

Maybe Trump gets arrested. Maybe the money printer goes brrr. But you should assess your own risks as a responsible adult. Get out cash, buy some bottled water and get groceries for the week and keep calm. If it is indeed times for guns and butter the price of Bitcoin won’t matter.

I know I committed to a daily discipline of writing and I am doing it but I want to get off the internet and sleep for a thousand years. I’ll never get any work done or maintain my health and sanity if I don’t. So I am writing this and going to go about my life. You should too. And please nobody flee to El Salvador. I’ll write again tomorrow but if I’m quiet it’s because I am refusing to add any more fuel to this narrative fire.

Categories
Internet Culture

Day 804 and Organic All Natural Human Brain Brewed Montana Content

As a sign of just how fast the world is changing, my goal of making it to a thousand straight days of writing is officially pointless. ChatGPT4 is pretty good at mimicking all styles of writing. AI has come to rescue us from the drudgery of being a workdcel just as it once rescued my brethren shape rotators from doing math. Rejoice!

Fortunately I started this whole blog for personal amusement and feel entirely unthreatened by the looming reality that writing done entirely by humans is officially over. If anything I feel modestly relieved.

I’d be happy to jump cut to the Culture and move aboard a psychotic space ship with a name like Weeping Somnambulist. I just combined Ian M Banks with the Expanse but I’ve got omnivore tastes in my science fiction. The point is it’s fucking cool that the machines are coming. And if it’s not cool I won’t know the damn difference. I’ll be dead or in some other simulation and I am not worse off than I’m currently.

Two men on a bus meme. “The AI Took My Job”

I’ve been repeating as something of a mantra the Hunter S Thompson quote recently.

Buy the ticket, take the ride.

I’ve never actually read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas nor have I seen the movie. But I’ve absorbed enough of the basic essence of the “all gas no breaks” mentality from across multiple generations that I think I get the gist of it. Though a reminder to actually go to the source material.

The point being is that none of us has a fucking clue and sometimes you’ve got to go fuck around and find out. So I’ll be doing that. If it doesn’t worked out I’ll just chalk it up to consciousness expansion. And if I’m lucky maybe I get some new machine friends too. But I’m still going to write just for me using my mushy brain synaptic firings that I generated right here in Montana.

Categories
Chronic Disease Internet Culture Media Politics

Day 803 and Killing Strangers

I’ve been one of those types that absolutely has no problem taking a shot at the Christo-fascists dorks at CPAC mincing words about eradicating trans people from public life. Fuck you, you fucking fucks, you absolutely would be fine if state sanctioned violence eliminated trans people. It’s not you being metaphorical or cute or whatever justification you used. It’s killing strangers.

I wasn’t any more amused when folks decided it was alright to discuss a cost benefit analysis of keeping the disabled alive within the context of state benefits. No thanks I am not interested in a mercy killing because I’m expensive. Oh it’s a mercy killing for children? Yeah no still good thanks. Fuck you Canada. Medicare for all sounds good up until you decide to put me on palliative care via the metaphorical ice flow of opioid addiction.

So you might imagine I am equally sensitive about someone making jokes about euthanizing people who pays their bills by investing in early stage startups. Oh it was just a joke about how Keynes didn’t like the rentier class? Hilarious.

I am just rolling on the ground laughing at your erudition. Yes, benefits of a classical education. Har har. It’s so much smarter than the CPAC guy who wants to kill trans women. Definitely smarter than those segueing to mercy kill sick Canadian children. Oh wait, no it’s fucking not you sick fucks. Stop killing strangers in your rhetoric for shock value and clicks.

Perhaps I could interest the Jacobin audience members in a trip back to the Opium Wars, funded by Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s grandfather, just so we understand the gruesome reality that the New Dealers saw first hand in their own family trauma. Or if we are pluming the depths of the historical animosity towards finance and it’s intense hypocrisy, I’ll send you back with a copy of my favorite conspiracy text Creature from Jekyll Island. Then we can have a nice big chuckle about blood libel if you make it back.

I cannot believe that I am writing about any of this social media blood lust but perhaps we could all listen to Marilyn Manson’s Killing Strangers together and decide that there is no clever or enjoyable way to advocate for the killing of strangers. That it’s not cute to joke about killing people you don’t know just to further your political or economic aims. I’ll try to stop joking about how it’s ok to punch Nazis.

I am baffled that I keep ending up in groups that become the target of the genocide curious. I know being a hysterical disabled white bitch is a pretty commonplace “kill them all fetish” and smarter minds than me can untangle how all roads lead to disability. Witches and bitches.

But I’m getting unsettled seeing how it piles up and I keep getting lined up in other people’s sights. I’m married to a Jewish man. I’ve got queer family members. And yes I make a living investing capital (that I raised from weirdos) into other weirdos. Don’t worry my AUM is small enough I can’t live off management fees. Ironically because I’ve got medical bills because I’m disabled.

If you don’t know what that means and you still want to kill m perhaps it’s you that is the psychopath. Just a thought. Not that psychopaths are bad it’s just that I’m worried you will act on it. It’s not always clear if we are the baddies but advocating for blanket euthanasia is probably a helpful marker. Just like as a baseline for civilizational norms.

Either way, I’m not letting any of you kill my queer disabled Jewish rentier bourgeois family members. I don’t care if you a Jacobin or a CPAC member or a pissed off narco-trafficker running Fentyl out of Toronto. If you want to kill me because I’m a stranger and you don’t want to hurt the ones that you love. Ok. But I’ve got no intentions of making it easy for you.

Categories
Finance Politics

Day 802 and Vengeance

You can’t stare into the abyss without letting it stare back at you. And I did a little too much abyssal observation over the course of the weekend. I feel overwhelmed with grief. I saw in the abyss a roiling cauldron of rage and hate and fear and despair. And I saw my own grief reflected back. The boiling blood that demands punishment flooded the news.

I feel grief for the inner child who lived through the turmoil of past market dislocations. I feel grief for my father who suffered through the bankruptcy of 2001. I feel grief for my mother whose teacher’s pension was decimated in 2008. I feel all the pain and sadness and anger and unfairness. I feel it all in my own family.

He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.

Moby Dick

I see the desire for vengeance. I feel it myself. I never saw any kind of justice for my father or my mother. My inner child will never know that peace. And I will have to be an adult and accept the disappointment of a world where far too many little children suffer for sins of their fathers. Many of us pick them up and carry them on. The churn is largely amoral and uncaring.

I see how satisfying it must be to give in to Ahab’s roiling anger. I saw many hot heart shells bursting on the time line over the weekend. A few were directed at me. I can’t be sure that my own didn’t explode on innocents. We are all culpable in ways big and small.

I am doing what I can to dust myself off and carry on because work must be done. We’ve not yet finished building a better future. We’ve barely even built the outlines for a tolerably decent present. I pray it’s too soon for us to find out how hot our hate burns.

Categories
Finance Politics Preparedness

Day 800 and Small Potatoes

It’s nice when a round number crops up in my daily journey of writing every single day. It’s even better when it’s colliding with the wider narratives of humans. If you aren’t paying attention to the news, Silicon Valley bank had a run on Thursday and was taken over by FDIC on Friday. Now the powers that be decide our fates. On day 800 we wait to see if anything has changed about capitalism.

I’m small potatoes so I’m scrambling for survival as much as anyone. But I’ve got a reasonably good head on me and I’ve seen this movie before. Literally. I watched Margin Call a dozen times this year. My family also went bankrupt in the 2001 crash and I was working in startup land during the 2008 crash. So this isn’t exactly my first ride on the roller coaster. I still get sick to my stomach though.

I think we are all about to have a significant conversation in America about trust and who is looking out for whom. I have my theories on how it plays out and over what time horizon. Very few of those scenarios and involves actually letting the american economy implode. But some heads will need to roll it’s just going to depend on the fates.

I really don’t feel like writing through some of this as it’s both personally traumatic because I’m a human being but also because I don’t know where this lands any more than you do. A lot depends on who blinks and who we want to scapegoat and how much we want to tolerate the unpleasant realities of who matters most. Not to be dramatic but every empire rests on a pile of skulls. It’s the degree to which this is literally true that changes over the years.

Categories
Politics Preparedness Startups

Day 799 and Black Friday

I suppose it’s now quite clear why I felt like I was driving through a snowblind yesterday. For someone who spent the year telling everyone to watch Margin Call you’d think I’d be pretty prepared for the inevitability of pricing affecting risk.

I am, of course, discussing the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank. We’d discussed in our household scenario planning around what would happen if we saw banks forced to compete on better interest rates. Perhaps the same old story of mis-pricing your risk would play out. Discussions of contingency planning and multiple accounts and insurance policies both personal and professional. I really didn’t expect for any of the emergency use cases to manifest as to even contemplate it is simply too horrifying.

But horrible things happen every day and I am skeptical of my capacity to judge my own need for a comfort in a situation in which there is none to be found. I do however believe that in the wake of the Great Recession we’ve come to believe that money always gets bailed out. And why would Janet Yellen (of all people) hang out the singular shining star industry that keeps the lights on in the hollowed out shell of post-industrial American capitalism.

That said humans have been known to do spitefully stupid things that hurt themselves so long as it also hurts someone they dislike. Cut off your nose to spite your face. I don’t know if the drive for vengeance is strong enough for some populist reactionary spill over. I’d want to at least offer up a scapegoat and I’ll be curious to see who has this fate.

This seems like the crumbles to me. The logic of the Jankening is that we cannot always predict the downstream effects because this is a complex system. All I know is that to let a large chunk of the wider technology ecosystem fail would be catastrophic.

However, we have now effectively put in the minds of a new generation that banks do stupidly silly things occasionally (Lmao) and you have to be careful who you trust with risk. Everyone is running to the big banks and that will have its own consequences. I am curious to see what the downstream consequences will be.

Be careful who you trust, use some common sense and don’t be overly sure of the value of powerful people telling you want to think. They might not have your best interest at heart.

Categories
Emotional Work

Day 796 and Bedtime Revenge

I’ve been putting off writing basically all day even though I’ve had a number of topics that are completely in my wheelhouse show up in the discourse. For instance, how does one masturbate safely with extremely thin skin? Yes, it was quite a day for Elon Musk jokes.

But I just don’t want to write. I feel resentful that I have pushed this discipline on myself and I do not feel like adhering to any rules even the ones I set myself.

There is a concept in sleep psychology called bedtime revenge procrastination.

Revenge bedtime procrastination refers to the decision to delay sleep in response to stress or a lack of free time earlier in the day

I had plenty of time in my day to write and also plenty of inspiration for it too. But because I feel indignation about being constrained by any sort of discipline I decided to procrastinate.

I rarely feel this about writing but I do often feel the need to rebel against schedules or demands on my time. I felt tremendously overstretched as a teenager but it goes back even further to feeling like I was put into schooling and social situations that were too much for me.

It’s valuable to recognize these behaviors that originate in childhood. Most of our unproductive habits tends to be based on very early reactions we had when we were young and had little control. It’s called a reaction formation for those of you not hopelessly therapy-pilled like me.

Reaktionsbildung is the fantastic German word for it. You are likely familiar with its basic format. “A reaction formation is a defense mechanism in which emotions and impulses which are perceived to be unacceptable are mastered by exaggeration of the directly opposing tendency.” Thank you Wikipedia for that simple explanation. Basically your unconscious mind helps you rebel.

I think it’s unacceptable to be undisciplined. So I impose discipline. Even though I don’t actually lack discipline myself, my anxiety around how unacceptable it is to be undisciplined will drive a host of opposite reactions. Thankfully I’m aware and now the blog post is written and I can enjoy dinner with my family having conquered today’s demons.

Categories
Culture Reading

Day 795 and Fabulous Fabulists

If you’ve got the gift of gab, and I do, you are probably also familiar the entire family tree of talking. And like any family, gabbers have their share of black sheep. Weaving a a yarn or telling a tall tale both come to mind.

But in order to tell a story, it’s almost impossible to avoid every form of sensationalism and embellishment. Fabulists are fabulous company. And depending on your own history with inherent knowability of truth (and it’s many sparkling facets) you may find varying degrees of fanciful details either deeply offensive or absolutely necessary. It probably boils down to your relationship with your parents honestly.

I’ve had to sing for my supper my whole life and I don’t particularly mind it’s burdens. My father was once a champion story teller and his relationship to reality was always tenuous simply because he was an eternal optimist. I’ve chosen to view this as a positive.

It is however hard to live in a culture of sensationalism. When every piece of media from memes to the paper of record is bombarding us with every angle of every story, deciding on the truth feels impossible. It’s sensational because our senses simply cannot possibly glean every facet of a situation. If you’ve ever been close to a news story I’m sure you can intuit the issue.

We’ve got an entire culture of fabulous fabulists ranging from Fox News opinion hosts to Kim Kardashian to the New York Times Editorial Board. Who you find most trustworthy in that bunch doesn’t really say much about you anymore but we sure like to pretend it does. Just remember if someone is telling you a tall tale you don’t have to believe it. But it probably helps to enjoy listening to them. And the truth is we all do.

Categories
Chronic Disease Travel

Day 791 and Bathing Suits I’ve Never Worn

I’m on maybe my third or fourth trip to a warmer climate where I’ve brought a Norma Kamali bathing suit. I bought it on sale from Net-Porter as I’d always wanted one of her classic one pieces. I’ve never worn it.

For the casual reader, I have a chronic autoimmune disease called ankylosing spondylitis. It’s an inflammation condition that affects my spine and is aggravated by heat & humidity. Any temperature above above room temperature, give or take 72 depending on the humidity, starts to swell my tissues.

It’s well controlled with drugs but environmental factors can quickly spin up a bevy of symptoms including pain so debilitating I can’t walk. It’s one of the reasons we moved to Montana. I can live a semi-normal life so long as it’s cold. I spend most of my days laying flat in bed or in a zero gravity chair. My disability has become one of the super powers I use to propel my investing alpha. Because what else do you do with your time if you can’t leave bed except monitor financial indicators and chat with founders?

But back to the bathing suit. The black halter swimsuit has turned out to be entirely an aspirational garment. It’s still got the sanitary sticker for the crotch on it that says remove before wearing. I left it in and it’s become the not so subtle reminder that I may never enjoy a beach vacation again. It’s simply beyond my grasp unless I want to pay an obscenely high cost in pain and immobility.

I dutifully pack the Norma Kamali suit on each trip with a warmer climate. I’ve taken it to Miami, Texas, the Mediterranean and Mexico now. For this trip to Puerto Vallarta I packed a second bathing suit. It’s a striped bikini.

I had a fantasy that maybe I’d need a second swim suit as the other would need to dry if I swam every day. Oh what self deception we humans are capable of when it involves something we cannot have but want. I’ve never put the second suit on either. It also has the sanitary sticker still on it. It’s beginning to feel like they taunt me. Isn’t it funny that Julie still yearns to participate in the simple pleasures of life. “That dumb cunt” I imagine them murmuring as I pack.

My father loves tropical vacations. An adults only resort on a beach is his idea of a good time. And for his birthday, my brother and I very much wanted to give him what he wanted. Part of this is self protection as he often forgets to ask after other people’s preferences even if they are for something serious like a disease or disability. Better to avoid disappointment than know for sure. But also if we can give him what he wants why not make the sacrifice? It’s expensive for me energetically but I wanted to spend.

But it’s become clear I can’t make the sacrifices desired for the perfect fantasy family vacation. The bathing suit gets tossed in the suitcase with the knowledge that I can only manage one event outside each day. It’s usually a dinner or a chat.

Then I must sleep it off and work to recover. There is no space for pleasant relaxation on the beach in my body. The compressed Lycra slowly battling the expansion of my tissues as they swell overlapping with stuck lymphatic liquids would be torture. There is no joy to be found and no extra capacity to be eked out that might make the experience mimic the pleasure in a healthy body.

The fantasy is just that. A delusion I have about a life a lost and unlikely to be regained. The after effects of fertility treatments, IVF and living hard to outrun the vicissitudes of capitalism. I’ve accepted it as my lot in life. But it’s much harder to get it across to the rest of the world. And my fear that I’ll be left out and forgotten, that if I don’t fit myself into someone else’s life I’ll be abandoned. And so I rationalize that I’d be abandoned if I don’t at least try to bring the bathing suit. Even though going to the beach is a fantasy.

I hope my friends and family are able to meet me half way but I remain afraid that they don’t know how, or are unable to imagine what it’s like to live in my body. And it would be nice to be met halfway.

Categories
Emotional Work

Day 788 and Duty

I wrote about six thousand words this morning at 5am about seeing your family for who they are and asking that they see you in return. I don’t think I can publish any of it even though it is a very raw piece of writing.

Today is my father’s 80th Birthday. He’s a rare early Boomer from the Silent Generation and he had me later in life with his second wife my mother.

I’ve got a lot of feelings about our relationship. I love my father. Like all of us, he has committed many sins, some of them against me. I have committed many sins against him. We are bound by an elaborate set piece of inter-generational trauma that has shaped us for good and ill.

I am bound by my familial duty to respect and honor the sacrifices he made. I am here to celebrate his life. But my feelings on it are more than I could articulate today and believe me I have tried.

It is my most solemn wish for his birthday that he finds forgiveness for himself as he did absolutely everything he could and I’ll forever be grateful that I was given these rare gifts.