For Internet freedom, the loss of a true friend

I deeply miss my friend Ilya, who left for California some years ago and never came back.

Fortunately, his infectious and thoughtful optimism will never leave me.

I remember one New Year's, I got a call. It was Ilya, who was calling every number in his phone to say hi, check in and look forward to a new year. This is the social space he occupied, where there was always a moment to acknowledge his fellow humans -- to share a laugh, to share an idea, and to share a vision for something greater.

In Ilya's world, there is no such thing as "too many people to say hello." We live together, we connect, we share and we grow. Thus, our relationships can rise above profit, above power, and above the often violent, dismissive discourse that pervades our Internet. We're only here for a short time -- why be anything but radically friendly, whimsical, and unflinchingly aware of our supreme talent and potential?

I recently logged this same note into the dizzying, absorbing medium called Facebook -- where I am unable to resist the fleeting sense of connectivity that permeates our jumbled displays. We like, we comment, we scroll to distraction, and yet we still miss the character and inspiration of a phone call, a visit... a true presence.

Ilya, thanks for showing me what's possible -- online, and in this global neighborhood that won't lose its humanity to an insincere 'network.'

Ilya Zhitomirskiy, cofounder and developer of Diaspora

October 12, 1989 - November 12, 2011

Just can't stop starin'

I now present: The Outside World, a.k.a. STOP STARING AT THAT!

Hi friend, I'm admiring your poofy boots (SO POOFED OUT) and I'd love to compliment them, but your ears are plugged and your eyes locked on the… STOP STARING AT THAT!

Good afternoon, partner, I want to tell you how marvelous those yoga pants are (SO STRETCHY BUT THEY DON'T GET STUCK THAT WAY… IS THAT SOME KIND OF TECHNOFIBRE?), but you've got a bluetoothy thing hangin' on your face and seem to be having a very important conversation with… STOP TALKING AT THAT!

Evening, buddy, I may never believe how that goatee of yours comes to such a razor-sharp point (CAN YOU PICK UP HORS D'OEUVRES WITH IT?), and I WANT YOU TO KNOW HOW UNBELIEVABLE IT IS, but you've got a wire comin' out your head connecting to that yellow-and-green plastic box (good choice of iPhone 6 cover by the way, the purple ones look the same but they're apt to shatter when dropped)…ahem… STOP LISTENING TO THAT!

To my great associates, welcome to The Outside World, and YES, I'LL STOP SHOUTING. Soon.

a foxy night on the town

 ...spotted at the Washington Monument, October 14, 2014, 10:35 p.m.

a poem for this new world

A Competent Host

crafting his intrigue in stable objects,

the two-legged table assembles a balance,

arranges the matter in such a way, that

bouquets extend and permeate,

dishes forget their inhibitions, disregard the cold

potatoes and lukewarm meatloaf, while

customers ease into conversation, subconsciously

aware of his measured display:

“I have no idea what to order.”

“Everything has garlic… I hate garlic.”

“Just tell the waitress you’re allergic.”

… the typical exchange.

Meanwhile, the structure braces with laughter.

For his steady grace beneath the

folded hands, pointy elbows and fugitive glances,

bits of wealth tease his smooth surface.

Steering from the hip...

Is your brother a hipster? Your mother? Your uncle?

Of course not. Why would anyone maintain family ties to the greatest frenemy of our times?

The hipster is... that pierced barista... that jean-shorted bicyclist... that self-absorbed independent artist... who lives to ruin our day.

We associate their 'type' - a bohemian outward appearance - with pretentiousness, condescension and cheap sophistication.

But as hipsters seem to pervade our routine activities - grabbing a meal, catching a concert, walking the streets - I wonder if the label is nothing but an excuse to complain, to be miserable.

The next time you go out for drinks after work and you feel like that 'hipster crowd' is mucking up your evening, just remember - you're out to enjoy yourself in the company of friends. This is a blessing. And if the 'hipster vibe' is all it takes to mar that experience, you might want to recalibrate.

Before you go out, think about yourself. You're cool, you're good-looking (besides that mole, but let's be honest, it's charming!), and you're always down for a party. You've got an understated fashion sense, you've got an ear for great music, you've read some dense literature. You could say you're pretty damn hip...oh, wait...nevermind.

Forget the hipster myth and celebrate the amazing qualities that make you, your friends - and maybe even that tattooed, mustachioed, suspendered stranger - a magnificent bunch of humans.

Rude folks can wallow in their negativity, but assigning them a hipster label, a hipster look, a hipster aura, only furthers our antisocial tendencies in public spaces, where instead communities may interconnect and flourish.

And if we're always dreading the hipster over our shoulder, what happens if we see that face in the mirror one morning? Hopefully you'll at least have the decency to give hipsters a better name.

The Money Issue

If you're in cliff-hanging suspense about my job situation, don't be.

At present, I've got some interesting leads and some edifying experiences under my belt, so let's just say I'm taken care of.

But what about you? Do bloggers have no regard for those precious eyeballs, connected to precious neurons bouncing preciously about your noggin?

The newsflash for your noodle: money reigns supreme.

If you've just graduated from college or high school and want everyone to know you're just fine, thank you very much, get a paycheck. A regular one. Doing anything. The more miserable the job makes you, the better.

"But why?" -- you fairly question this snarky provocation.

Simply, to learn that others gauge your success based on financial stability. And if you appear to have a steady source of cash, concerns about your individual aspirations or personal well-being can take a backseat.

The good: I hate money. Like a diploma, it's a piece of paper that has no value to humans, but we afford a compelling persuasion -- such that our behaviors must be affordable. Have you ever seen a squirrel snag loose change from the sidewalk? That would be nuts! Ahem... if you excuse the terrible humor, what I mean to say is: the items of real value to squirrels are nuts. A nickel's just dead weight.

The bad: I need money to sustain a living and fuel my dreams. So in a cash-strapped economy, it's practical to ignore the personal, emotional or social benefits (or costs) of a job, focusing solely on its financial promise. Unfortunately, capital gains can never refund time spent on unfulfilling pursuits, or repair the personal damage of an exhausting, dispossessed working life.

The ugly: No one wants to talk about money. It's awkward, it's impolite, it's far too enmeshed in social value judgments. But if finances are so touchy, why does cash run the show? If humans are mere arbiters of our printed valuations, why do joy and inspiration serve any purpose in our lives?

The conclusion: I've got no sharp insights. But a drive toward honest, fair and conscientious financial exchanges could, at the very least, draw some human value from the lifeless bills we trade.

A word from Father Francis Xavier Seelos (1819-1867)

National Seelos Shrine, Josephine St. and Constance St., New Orleans, Louisiana

For those restless, frustrated and bedraggled souls of the world, Father Seelos saw a clear path to peace in the actions of Wilhelm Luehrmann, a German immigrant whose homesickness discouraged his aspirations for priesthood:

But now, in addition to the sadness in not being able to attain his goal, came an attack of homesickness that just about crushed his heart; so much so that often he could no longer stand the oppressive feeling and only wanted to find a place where he could really cry himself out. What did he do then? He took a horse, got on it, and rode far, very far into the woods. And when he was deep in the wilderness, and no one could hear him anymore, he got off his horse, and cried and shouted so loud that all the hills echoed with it and so long until he felt relieved. *

Job-seekers and job-escapists alike can use a horseback trip to the woods - in whatever form it takes - to put their lives back to work.

*Source: "Father Seelos in Action: His Kindly Approach." Carl Hoegerl, ed. SPIRITUS PATRIS, vol.XXVI, Number 1 — March 2000. As published on www.seelos.org.

resolved; unemployment

Who uses a semicolon in a title? The sophisticated; the bluthering; the anti-establishment; et. al.

But bollocks! My business is to punctuate something more practical:

•  I just left my job.
•  I have a degree in journalism.
•  I refuse to buy a smartphone. 

And so, I must submit to the common directive that today's young journalists have blogs. Blogs that foist their impulsive keystrokes across your scrutinous and impatient eyeballs.

Studies of these blogs have yet to reveal their utility, and this one is polling insignificant viewership data at this very line.

But codswallop! Here are my admirable, resume-driven goals:

• Entertain (with pizzazz) the most pressing question: What's your next move?
• Participate in my own case study of leaving one job before finding another occupation.
• Be ecstatic. Through the whole bit.

Who uses a period to punctuate ecstasy? A modern journalism grad with a blog, that's who. Up and at 'em!

2014's greatest Internet quip thus far

"I noticed a woman using a contraption to get water at the far end of the counter."

Veronique L., Yelp Review of La Colombe, Feb. 3, 2014

Amongst other brilliant and telling observations, mostly about the existence of people in the alleyways surrounding this coffee shop, Ms. L. has also discovered the notion of water dispensers (perhaps a throw-back faucet, even). Thanks and praise to you, Ms. L., for the best, and most useful, prose of our collective Internet life this calendar year.

just another day

Near Washington Navy Yard, January 1, 2014.