Goings-On, New Jersey

Maybe we don’t want to live in Amsterdam right now, but we’re still hankering for a change. I am therefore pleased to announce that we are opting to go FULL JERSEY, and as of July 1, you are all invited to our huge, awesome loft four blocks from the beach in Asbury Park whenever you would like to visit. Please note that “Born to Run” will be playing on a 24-hour loop, so be prepared for that.

We don’t do things by half-measures in the King of States.


To the people who took the time to read and say embarrassingly kind things about this post, thank you.

To the people who shared their own stories of struggle and loss: I’m so sorry.

To the people who are worried about themselves or someone they know, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (US and Canada) is at 1-800-273-8255. Use it.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.


Physical therapy: a place where you go and pay people money to force you to move about in ways designed to cause pain to your injured joint, so you can return home and resume sitting still so as not to cause pain to your injured joint. Makes sense.

There are electrodes and gels and many unidentifiable apparati. I think the physical therapists might be evil wizards, though it will take six more weeks of twice-weekly visits to be sure.


Building teh Interwebz, Goings-On

This thing that I edited is in an actual printed magazine. You probably don’t have a subscription to the Harvard Business Review so you can’t read the whole thing, but you can trust me: it’s really good, and packed to the very brim with correctly-deployed semicolons.

(via ma.tt)

I even snuck in an em-dash; so there.

Effed-Up Shit, Goings-On, Jesus H. Christ

New York: The City That Never Shuts the Hell Up

I travel a lot. I get stared at a lot because I am tall, and, oh yeah, fat. I’ve been stared at in a variety of foreign countries on several different continents.

Once, in Vietnam, I attracted an entire class of high school students who lined up to have their photos taken with me one at a time.

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He was an unrecognized genius.

It’s the shortest day of the year! Which is awesome, because that means tomorrow is NOT the shortest day of the year, and eventually it will begin staying light past two in the afternoon.

As my father would have said, “We’re going into the gravy!” Which on one hand makes little to no sense, but on the other is immediately understood by everyone. It’s like a Zen anti-koan. (Also, who doesn’t like gravy?) Genius.