Fang Talks

Is that a joke about my length?
02 11 18

Unfaithful

I just spent a good two hours writing content, and I’m publishing it some place that isn’t here.

Having broken the streak and subsequently stopped caring about it much, I’m saving five to ten minutes a day. Minutes I would’ve previously spent hastily banging out some lowercase-C content just because I needed to.
Now, those minutes I save up, collect very generous interest on, and spend in batches on middle-to-uppercase-C content like the things you find here… and elsewhere.

So why? Why have I betrayed my One True Audience? Those that stuck around, those that lurk, those that haven’t abandoned me through my worst. The reason I want to give is that the things I’m writing about — and quite excitedly so — don’t feel like they belong here, in a place like this. I want to give other reasons, but the ones I can think of all feel like lies.

To remind myself and the reader: just because something doesn’t feel like a lie, doesn’t mean it isn’t.

Maybe it is time to move on from this blog. Now that the streak is gone, there really isn’t much left tethering me to this particular platform. That’s not to say I won’t still be around, even if I jump this ship.
It’s just that all of the history here — that long, dense history — stands so strongly in contract with the present — that brief, fleeting present — that they seem like different cultures, ages, continents. And we should separate them as such, with lots of water in between and only a couple boats a year daring to cross over.

Maybe this will be my last post. In this new era, there’s really no point at which you can tell with certainty. Maybe there’s a three-month gap between this post and the next. Maybe even five years. I could die, and you’d never know.

24 10 18

A changed man

So this is the power of cultism.

I spent the weekend with a bunch of strangers and returned a changed man. To be more precise: a bunch of strangers and some friends. …Alright, full honesty here, after the first hour or two it had blossomed into a very tight-knit group of kindred spirits.

For the past year I had been working remotely. Home office. Solitude. The dream job, for some. I certainly would’ve called it that. Now, I’m not so sure of that anymore.

Urbit remains the dream project, of course. Frequently, especially now, am I baffled by the incredible luck that placed me in this amazing position.

Over the weekend I bonded with people I had never met before. There may have only been one passion we shared, and it was a passion everyone carried for different reasons. Still, that was enough to instantly bond us and cover the space we inhabited in a thick, cozy blanket of camaraderie.

The dream job used to be “working from home”. It would give me ample opportunity to visit the places I knew and the friends I held so dear. And I do still hold them very dear! I wouldn’t be where I am today were it not for the histories of those friendships. Yet, those ties pale in comparison to those fresh out of the forge, glowing red hot with passion.

I can hear you say it, and must agree, it’s probably wise to wait for that to cool down a little bit. Rash decisions can be dangerous, after all. But then, there is really no point in waiting to do a thing, if you’re going to do the thing anyway. Time is of the essence!

Not longer than two weeks ago was I pretty firm in my stance, that I wouldn’t ever consider moving to a hellhole city like this. Even today it contrasts very strongly with my idea of a nice back yard. But to get to the point, as scary as it may be to admit: I briefly considered considering it… and am now actually considering it.

The cultism thing at the beginning was a joke. From an outsider’s perspective, it might not seem that way. It’s just incredibly rare to see such strong attractive forces between people, strong enough to form a very powerful group. It’s hard to tell what to make of it.

It doesn’t help that the reason this is happening is completely opaque to outsiders. An immense, incomprehensible undertaking that wisps people from their homes and pulls them closer. The reaction to that is as expected.

What took place over the weekend has made me a different person. Better, I feel, but of course I would. My sense of purpose has been strengthened, my goals clarified, my self-image transformed, and my rational mind left tumbling.

I escaped, and returned a changed man. What now?

22 10 18

Good morning

I hope you’ve had a great night’s sleep. You may feel like you’ve waken up in another world. Another world without arbitrary, artificial barriers to efficient communication. Notice how large your self feels now. Unbounded. Curious. Powerful.

Take deep breaths, notice what it feels like.

We are here to do great things. Time spent doing anything other than working up to that is wasted. There shall be no dead ends of development, local maximums we never leave. We go forth, fearless of others’ judgement, to work towards great and whole things only.

Even if in doing so we produce content like this.

18 10 18

Escape

We’ve been working hard. Maybe too hard. Good work though.

But it’s time. High time. To get out of this mess. To get away from it all. Time to escape.

I’ll be offline for the next few days. See you on the other side.

17 10 18

Crunch

It feels like crunch time. It isn’t, but it might as well be.