Nov 2000, 56 entries

Seattle is wondering today what Starbucks means. Because, yesterday, 9 Starbucks coffee shops got their windows destroyed. Some people think that Starbucks means “corporation,” others think it means “the opposite of Anarchy”. Some people think it means nothing at all. Either way, today is the 1 year anniversary of the WTO protests that went on last year. Here’s a normal article from the Seattle Times, and here’s an article by our local Stranger that is asking to “mobilize the anarchists, lefties, innocent bystanders, and holiday shoppers” into a very organized and deadly plan of attack.

It’s a beautiful day in the copyright offenders neighborhood… Us vs. them and them. And for some feature fun, us vs. them. And see, I haven’t even thought bad thoughts yet. The world’s got to do better than this to make me feel like there’s anything stolen in cases like this.

Amber, you bought communal.ws, derek, you are writing a book, hey, and I, I am making my very own community of busters as well. How are we all alike, how are we different, and is it even worth it! Damn Ayn.

Wireless phones launched, I’d yawn if I didn’t know how much work it was for people other than me.

I have to say that the new Beastie Boys DVD is just about the best free gift I could’ve bought myself with that $100 I won a few weeks ago. It has like 18 songs, which you can just play through, and then it has all 18 song again, but this time with commentary, and remixes, and different angles to view the videos. These aren’t commerials, as Radiohead would have us think all music videos are, these are low-budget windows into the lives and eyes of the b-boys. They make me jealous.

I just finished Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. I actually found myself agreeing with most of it. I actually found myself talking to K about it, and talking to work friends about it. I actually think about it more than a couple times a day, even though I’m finished with it. But, I don’t know what I like and why.

First, let me just say I didn’t like the writing, and I don’t like the author’s way of trying to make a point. But what I did like was the structure of ideas and the way she made things fit together, it was a creative work—one which I hear she repeats over and over again in every book she wrote, but still there was that initial step of finding what this book was about, and it was done relatively well.

Okay, now that I’ve qualified my reasons for liking it—because I feel like it’s a popular book to like, so popular, that it’s also become a popular book to dislike, and many people will hold a strong personal grudge on me either way. So, if you disagree with me, let me know.

Actually, the ideas in the book scare me a little. Because it seems to resonate with my instincts. I don’t like working in groups. I don’t like popular culture, and the mentality behind it. I think it is a monster, an invisible enemy, that shapes the popular mind, I think that most people are second-handers, good reshapers of what other people think and say. I don’t even know if I’m not one myself. I constantly feel like Peter Keating, begging for recognition, doubting if I’m right, waiting for someone to validate my work before I feel like it was worth doing. But there are some things I don’t require that for, they’re of course hard to name off the top of one’s head. That was the first scary thought—who am I, in that book.

Second worry: is there any value to community on the web. More importantly, is there any value to bustercafe. I mean, once it’s up. Will the act of people writing together, in small groups, create anything better than the sum of its parts? Can writing be a collective effort? In college, fiction workshops were my favorite classes, but most of the work that came out of those was crap. But I felt that my work improved. I gained knowledge from people, most of whom didn’t even know what they were talking about, but at least I knew, like Gail Wynand that I’m writing for the man on the street whose face nobody can remember—not for the intellectual, or the critic. All the arguments, though, point to failure. What is the value of a critic. Is he Ellsworth Toohey, who finds that praise itself is more important than actual value in a work—meaning that whatever is praised before people view a piece of art, will sway them to like it, for the most part? I find that many websites out there, the popular ones, could never regain their popularity if they had to start fresh, from a new name, and no connections. They got to where they are on merits other than are showing today. Maybe it was a good word in the beginning from Ellsworth. Maybe it was affiliation with a group of people, or a company. No fingers pointing, notice. These people already must know this trick, and are keeping quiet hoping that it goes away. And it will.

So, in conclusion, I believe Ayn Rand was wrong. Why. Because, like a work friend said, (does this make it sound like I’m just being pushed around by other peoples’ words? how can i prove otherwise?) some of her premises are wrong. Like, the fact that … see I can’t think of a reason right away, because I never thought of it before, which means I would allow myself to get this far into a sentence convinced I had something to say, and it would’ve been (had I been forced to continue the sentence out loud without the option of meta-side comments) that she doesn’t believe in God, that she believes that we cannot be concerned for other people, and still be independant, that being a servant is a mind-trick.

Servants. To serve God, man, your country. An ancient trick to make us value other opinions, works, ideas more than our own and to therefore trust in something that (if it too trusts in others more than itself) leads to an endless putting off of ultimate value, which is then open for grabs by any corrupt columnist in town. Or, the only way to live in a relationship with God, man, your country—a relationship that is give and take, and one which will ultimately allow you to receive as much as you give. What, the second option asks, is so valuable that we need to guard it from the world. If I serve people, let them take from me what they want, let them ask of me what they want, let myself do things as they want me to, will I still be able to be as individual as Ayn Rand would have me be, still able to create works without needing praise, without caring about lack of support, still be able to have opinions without just repeating what I’ve heard is the popular stance, or would it all be an illusion.

This sucks. This is why I hate philosophy and intellectuals. They could talk about this for hours. I could too, I guess, which is why I hate myself. I am no different from the things I hate. Which is what sucks.

How the hell do I know what the answer is. Stop asking. Should I turn the questions off. Should I say, once and for all, that, it seems like I’m able to feel obligated to in some ways be a servant to man, to in some ways fail at serving man, to feel guilty for not serving man as I ought, and to still function independantly of popular culture and have emotions untied from what other people think of me (to an extent) and to be able to create original works of creativity that have the same value as Howard Roark’s buildings. Yes, I will say that. When I feel better about myself.

I just refresh the page every second or two and look, there’s a new question.

Ah, a mere 5 hours later, it looks like I’m off the hook. For a second I was excited about going, but now I get to be the holiday emergency swat team guy. Oh well, anyway, it looks like I would’ve headed down to Campbellsville anyway, which is a dry county.

Every year they say it will be different, that they won’t have to recruit managers, web developers, software developers, and other non-distribution-center-working employees to fly to some Life-Forsaken city in Nevada, or worse, the mid-west, to pick books and toys for 12 hours a day with little or no thought of their well-being. And we made it all the way to Thanksgiving this year. Our group was supposed to be the last group to be asked to go. I got in this morning with an urgent message about an urgent meeting, and we all knew we were going to be taking the next train to Atlanta, Campbellsville, or Fernley. Which city should I go to?

1. A grande eggnog latte (for myself), double tall eggnog latte (for K), and a biscotti, from Starbucks. Grand total: $5.57.
2. Fresh Step kitty litter for the cats, from QFC. Grand total: $11.94.
3. Calendar filler for K’s calendar book from Fred Meyer. Grand total: $5.42.
4. Sushi for K and I (drunkgirl was there too) from Aoki. Grand total: $30.41.
5. Another grande eggnog latte for myself. Grand total: $2.98.
6. Milk, Mini Wheats (for me), Shreaded Oats (for K), contact lense solution (for K), Pillsbury biscuits, Egg-nog itself (we like eggnog), cream cheese, and two cans of soup, from QFC. Grand total: $25.64.

Altogether, we spent $81.96 on this day that we’ve taken aside to buy nothing, and to refrain from the manic consumerism that is corporate America. How much did you spend?

Hm, my site isn’t loading properly in IE, and not at all in Netscape. I’m talking to dreamhost now about why this is, but sorry for the outage, if you can even see this. Go to sinceritybird instead.

Two hundred and thirty questions, all answered, ah, what a feeling! It’s a strange environment that these questions have created around me. One in which I feel special (because who else gets to have it appear that there are 230 things that others are curious enough about to ask you, even though some of them are obviously just there so they can hear and see their own voice). One in which I feel weary (because how else would one feel when constantly forced to be introspective, witty, truthful, and interesting at the same time—especially at a rate of 80 questions a day and only a couple hours a day to answer them). One feels a little fearful (because he cannot tell when the readers will begin lashing out at him and telling him that he is a bad answerer of questions and that he is not interesting enough to question, anymore! What could bring more of a sense of defeat, after slowly gaining readers for over a year, after so carefully planning each entry to be meaningful to himself and yet also somewhat interesting to read, than to finally gush everything out in one long stream of intimate details and find that the only interesting thing about him up until this point was his commitment to mystery, missing details, and vagueries). One feels one-upped by himself (because there is no way to gracefully end this, and he’s already played the tossing out boring projects bit and does not have enough cash in the bank to do that again). One feels guilty (because now he is spending even less time working on the project that was making him feel guilty for not spending enough time working on the project that he doesn’t have enough money to work on as he wishes).

Will you talk to me? All of these questions, which I answer, beg for second, third questions. They are my purest articulation of the question, “Are you there yet?” And you are invited to say no. People say no. What do you want me to do! I am a fumbling and ugly Peter Keating groveling for a soul with a tail. Or do you not see that.

Is there one person out there willing to pay for one year of supporting me and my wife so that we can take the year off and work on projects that I know the world will be pleased with. Can I want this year (or two, possibly?) so badly without eventually getting it! If I scream loud enough, will you give me my way?

My opinion of things has significantly improved over the last couple days. I just needed to get out of the feedback loop of frustration for a bit. These questions are refreshing. I entered the contest that kottke mentioned, just for the heck of it. I’m suggesting and implementing crazy fixes to crazy problems at work. I can see restruants from my office window. I’m not even hungry. I’m answering questions. I’m drinking coffee. I’m thinking of new things. How is everyone.

This is a great obituary one that I would like on my grave. Please post it again in computer generated voice.

I’m supposed to think of ideas for things to do next year in Personalization at Amazon. Do you have any good ideas of things you want to see?

Jeff Bezos mentions Gift Wizard (in first question) in Bloomberg interview. Too bad this article is in all caps, and full of punctuation errors. But at least they have a disclaimer at the bottom.

What I made is a page where you can ask me questions. So, ask me questions! Here.

I’ve been against pages “About Me” ever since I learned about them. And it’s always a good idea to try out things that you don’t think you like, like sushi, and like warm beer. So I made one. Actually, it’s just another experiment. But, I have to give credit to a few inspirational people that gave me ideas: loobylu, stephen, and sbird, are a few.

Why do you think it is that sometimes you stick your hand into the pond and you pull up a treasure ship and other times you just get gunk. I have this incredible gratitude (not just with this project, but with things in general) for the pond that never seems to dry of fun ideas. It’s like a lucky streak at a casino, where you keep winning. If God ever decides to take this lucky creative streak away, I don’t think I could complain, since how was it ever mine in the first place, but at the same time, I’d rather lose my sight or hearing, or even my legs and health, to keep living so close to the pond.

Hi everyone. Hi.

i need to ask someone that knows: “Before you became famous and great and a visionary and a masterpiece, did you talk about it endlessly, did you fret about it daily and tear your hair out, or were you quiet about it until you actually achieved it. Or did it happen on accident.”

I will keep writing until I feel better. Until I don’t have to search for blue at amazon. Until I don’t have to search for ugly. Until you do something about it.