Mission 1701

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

Человек может взять все, кроме одной вещи: последняя из человеческих свобод - это выбрать свое отношение в любой ситуации, выбрать свой собственный путь

—Виктор Эмиль Франкл

Some days just remind you that most of the crap you waste your heart worrying about does not matter one bit.

On a fundamental level I am as joyful as a human can ever be every moment that Emma is alright. It’s my cheat-code for unlocking god mode in my game of life. I’m invulnerable, minus a single point of failure. All of my eggs are in one basket. It’s every bad system architecture and investment decision combined.

And it’s perfect.

What is true is already so.
Owning up to it doesn’t make it worse.
Not being open about it doesn’t make it go away.
And because it’s true, it is what is there to be interacted with.
Anything untrue isn’t there to be lived.
People can stand what is true,
for they are already enduring it.

Growing old is mandatory—growing up is optional.

Emma Long

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.

Life’s not meant to be lived in one place.

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love, but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday.

—Khalil Gibran

One could wonder—what’s the big deal? Giving calculation instructions to a man-made machine. Yet every time I fire up the editor. I type in the magic incantations, fel green flowing from my fingertips onto the dark parchment of the terminal, and the spells glow brightly with colors as the syntax highlighter gives a silent nod to my austere accuracy. As I’m done casting the spells, the compiler percolates the magic from the abstract void into the haze of the reality. And I feel that distant eight year old again, sitting in front of that old, barely-working soviet PC, trying to fathom the miracle that for the first time someone—something—understood me strictly as I expressed myself, with precision unspoiled by emotions, ignorance, or hubris. What a privilege to have this passion, every day, for so many years, and with no end in sight.

Anything worth doing, is worth doing to perfection.

Part of the problem is convenience. Convenience is like familiarity. It also leads to a kind of contempt.


#first #motorcycle #happiness #birthdaygirl

I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But, I don’t want to push my chips forward and go out and meet something I don’t understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He’d have to say, “O.K., I’ll be part of this world.”

—Sheriff Tom Bell

As a convert who used to be an ardent Android supporter, I’ve learned a very important lesson after switching. It’s not always about the numbers. In fact it’s never about the numbers. You can’t quantify sheer quality. You can’t quantify how something makes you feel. I understand this can be easily retorted by “Well I get that feel from my Samsung Galaxy N, it’s totally subjective”, but I think that’s just being dishonest. I’ve seen people mention that they’re considering switching back to Android after the headphone jack thing, or switching to a PC laptop after the touchbar thing. For me simply touching the surface of ANY premium laptop currently on the market is enough to realize that Apple is light years ahead in terms of how they engineer their devices to feel. Simple things like opening a lid. Using the trackpad. The force touch. How the ringer switch clicks into place. All of it screams “quality”. Not like 15% higher quality, but like light years higher quality. It’s my experience anyway. It’s like – yes you can take the best mechanical Breitling and ask what does it do that the average Casio ProTrek does not? And there may be not a good answer for that in terms of numbers. But just take both in your hands, and try to objectively say – which device you intuitively want to interact with more? Which one attracts you with some inexplicable magic? Which one your fingers are craving to touch and understand? Imagine having that feeling every day with a daily device. Imagine having that feeling as the norm. How could you opt in for something less, despite the numbers?

In the face of ambiguity, refuse the temptation to guess.

Zen of Python, PEP-20

Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, “In this world, Elwood, you must be” - she always called me Elwood - “In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.” Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant.

Everyone has a plan ‘till they get punched in the mouth.

—Mike Tyson

Here there dwells an older us - a part of us that was there before we became apes. This is the wolf that we once were. This wolf understands that happiness cannot be found in calculation. It understands that no truly significant relationship can ever be based on a contract. First there is loyalty. And this we must respect through heavens fall. Calculation and contracts always come afterwards - as the simian part of our soul follows on from the lupine.

There are seven days in a week, and “someday” isn’t one of them

The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.

—Chinese proverb

Emma and I went out to ride our bicycles tonight after the sun, and in that calm uneventful moment of her jumping on and off the sidewalks on her bike and me thinking that she’s pretty decent at it, I realized that this was the evening I’ve been living toward my entire life. It was the evening that validated every single choice I ever made. I thought of every circumstance in the universe across space and time that led to this point. Such a profound, miraculous thing to experience happiness this way, I wish it to all of you.

That’s a clarification I want us both to acknowledge

We don’t love each other more when we deserve it least

That’s a bullshit teenage phrase

We both loved and love each other more when we most desere it

End of story.

Beauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly.

—Khaled Hosseini, And the Mountains Echoed

Dye, who had lead design roles at Kate Spade and Ogilvy & Mather before coming to Apple in 2006, says that most of the designers feel constant low-level anxiety. “I’m scared to death that at some point I’m going to get found out. You know, Tim [Cook] is going to realize the truth about me, which is I’m terrible.”

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Sometimes you meet a random person and just the magnitude of their personality changes the way you’ll live your whole entire remaining life. And in that way they become a part of what you’re about, a beacon that you live towards like you’d live towards your own dreams coming true. And when one day your child looks at you in awe and reverence for that moment you’re throwing your leg over the seat, you think – baby, you really wanna meet Georg. It’s him you’re revering right now. I only absorbed him, and he lives inside of me. I became him, selflessly, and I’m so incredibly happy that you can experience him through me, even though it’s never quite the same. I’m so privileged to have had the opportunity to become partially Georg. It’s one of the most amazing ways I came to experience my own life and my own existence.

A king has his reign, and then he dies. It’s inevitable.

Socialism never took root in America because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.

“All type of knowledge ultimately means self-knowledge.”

“You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can flow, or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every sister of the Bene Gesserit knows. To begin your study of the life of Muad’Dib, then, take care that you first place him in his time: born in the 57th year of the Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV. And take the most special care that you locate Muad’Dib in his place: the planet Arrakis. Do not be deceived by the fact that he was born on Caladan and lived his first fifteen years there. Arrakis, the planet known as Dune, is forever his place.

—from “Manual of Muad'Dib” by the Princess Irulan

Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.

So I guess my thinking is that the big problems came when game developers lost control of their companies. The Broderbund guys were programmers and gamers and developers. Ken was. Quite a few of the other – Activision was founded by a game player, and Accolade. A lot of other companies were founded by guys who knew games and as long as they were in charge, it seemed like things were better. But when gradually their companies hired professional management – professional managers love spreadsheets and they loved evidence, because they didn’t have gut feelings that said, “Yeah, that’s a great idea! Yeah, that’ll sell! People will love that! Look at that!” Instead, they would say, “Well, what are the numbers here? How do we compare this? What are your comparables?”

That question, man, I think has been just a death knell for the industry because as soon as you start forcing games to have successful comparables, you’re guaranteeing that you’re not going to ever see anything fresh again.

—Al Lowe, creator of Leisure Suit Larry, Sierra

One day your parents put you down and never picked you back up.

The sense of self-satisfaction from being feted by the high and mighty did begin, on occasion, to creep up on me. And what a non-radical, ugly, corruptive and corrosive sense it was.

My personal nadir came at an airport. Some moneyed outfit had invited me to give a keynote speech on the European crisis and had forked out the ludicrous sum necessary to buy me a first-class ticket. On my way back home, tired and with several flights under my belt, I was making my way past the long queue of economy passengers, to get to my gate. Suddenly I noticed, with horror, how easy it was for my mind to be infected with the sense that I was entitled to bypass the hoi polloi. I realized how readily I could forget that which my left-wing mind had always known: that nothing succeeds in reproducing itself better than a false sense of entitlement.

—Yanis Varoufakis, Greece Minister of Finance, former CFO of Valve Corporation

Claudia Black


voidzero: sssilver, you know what’s funny? My English is pretty good, but if I’m surrounded in a (chat)room by people who are clearly able to speak more fluently, my English tends to become worse than it normally is.

Graveyards are filled with indispensable men.

—Charles de Gaulle

Fake it ‘till you become it.

White privilege is the right of whites, and only whites, to be judged as individuals, to be treated as a unique self, possessed of all the rights and protections of citizenship. I am not a race, I am the unmarked subject. I am simply man, whereas you might be a black man, an asian woman, a disabled native man, a homosexual latina woman, and on and on the qualifiers of identification go. With each keyword added, so too does the burden of representation grow.

But white men are just people. Basic Humanity. We carry the absent mark which grants us the invisible power of white privilege. Everyone else gets discrimination.

Becoming Texas.

The Second Amendment

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

— Are sundays usually good?
— Sundays are the worst. It’s a different crowd. Families going out on picnics with kids, turning their faces away like I don’t exist, feeling good to be in that nice car, you know what I’m sayin’? Me I don’t like the Sunday crowd. Like that hundred dollar bill in their pockets makes all their choices right. Like I chose not to have that bill. We don’t always choose what happens to us, you know what I’m sayin’? Think about it.
— We never choose what happens to us
— Wise words my man, but this be America. People here don’t give much shit, you know what I’m sayin’? We like to think we earned that hundred dollar bill cuz we be so extraordinary. Where’d you be from?
— A place far away you’ve never heard of
— What, like a different planet of sorts?
— Yeah, a planet far from here, they call it Armenia
— Gee man, when you’re around this bridge, wave to the old man sometime. I’m usually on this corner, or that corner over by that Interstate sign. Just holler – “Hey Sid, this be the guy from that far away planet!”, will be good to see you around
— Yeah Sid, thanks for the conversation
— Thank you my man, how do you say “thanks” in Armenian?
— ”Shnor-ha-ka-loo-tyoon”
— Jesus fucking Christ, man…

I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves.

Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer give birth to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicable man is coming, he that is no longer able to despise himself. Behold, I show you the last man.

“What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?” thus asks the last man, and blinks.

The earth has become small, and on it hops the last man, who makes everything small. His race is as ineradicable as the flea; the last man lives longest.

“We have invented happiness,” say the last men, and they blink. They have left the regions where it was hard to live, for one needs warmth. One still loves one’s neighbor and rubs against him, for one needs warmth…

One still works, for work is a form of entertainment. But one is careful lest the entertainment be too harrowing. One no longer becomes poor or rich: both require too much exertion. Who still wants to rule? Who obey? Both require too much exertion.

No shepherd and one herd! Everybody wants the same, everybody is the same: whoever feels different goes voluntarily into a madhouse.

“Formerly, all the world was mad,” say the most refined, and they blink…
One has one’s little pleasure for the day and one’s little pleasure for the night: but one has a regard for health.

“We have invented happiness,” say the last men, and they blink.

Shit’s fucked up.

Unlike Christ, who promises eternal life, the last words of the Buddha reportedly began, “Decay is inherent in all things.”

But even decay—an unavoidable consequence of time impacting the real world—isn’t something to regret. As the Vietnamese Buddhist monk and scholar, Thich Nhat Hanh, put it, impermanence (anitya) is intimately tied to continuity. “Look back,” he counsels, “and you will see that you not only exist in your father and mother, but you also exist in your grandparents and in your great grandparents.” Look again, and you will see we “have been gas, sunshine, water, fungi, and plants,” he writes. “Nothing can be born and also nothing can die.” To understand this, and to do so deep in our ever-changing bones, may forever change our sense of time and what it means to participate in life on earth.

Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.

There is no substitute for intelligence, experience, common sense, and good taste.

—Bjarne Stroustrup, creator of C++

What is a Hacker? [1985]

What is a Hacker?

Brian Harvey
University of California, Berkeley

In one sense it’s silly to argue about the “true” meaning of a word. A word means whatever people use it to mean. I am not the Academie Française; I can’t force Newsweek to use the word “hacker” according to my official definition.

Still, understanding the etymological history of the word “hacker” may help in understanding the current social situation.

The concept of hacking entered the computer culture at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the 1960s. Popular opinion at MIT posited that there are two kinds of students, tools and hackers. A “tool” is someone who attends class regularly, is always to be found in the library when no class is meeting, and gets straight As. A “hacker” is the opposite: someone who never goes to class, who in fact sleeps all day, and who spends the night pursuing recreational activities rather than studying. There was thought to be no middle ground.

What does this have to do with computers? Originally, nothing. But there are standards for success as a hacker, just as grades form a standard for success as a tool. The true hacker can’t just sit around all night; he must pursue some hobby with dedication and flair. It can be telephones, or railroads (model, real, or both), or science fiction fandom, or ham radio, or broadcast radio. It can be more than one of these. Or it can be computers. [In 1986, the word “hacker” is generally used among MIT students to refer not to computer hackers but to building hackers, people who explore roofs and tunnels where they’re not supposed to be.]

A “computer hacker,” then, is someone who lives and breathes computers, who knows all about computers, who can get a computer to do anything. Equally important, though, is the hacker’s attitude. Computer programming must be a hobby, something done for fun, not out of a sense of duty or for the money. (It’s okay to make money, but that can’t be the reason for hacking.)

A hacker is an aesthete.

There are specialties within computer hacking. An algorithm hacker knows all about the best algorithm for any problem. A system hacker knows about designing and maintaining operating systems. And a “password hacker” knows how to find out someone else’s password. That’s what Newsweek should be calling them.

Someone who sets out to crack the security of a system for financial gain is not a hacker at all. It’s not that a hacker can’t be a thief, but a hacker can’t be a professional thief. A hacker must be fundamentally an amateur, even though hackers can get paid for their expertise. A password hacker whose primary interest is in learning how the system works doesn’t therefore necessarily refrain from stealing information or services, but someone whose primary interest is in stealing isn’t a hacker. It’s a matter of emphasis.

Ethics and Aesthetics

Throughout most of the history of the human race, right and wrong were relatively easy concepts. Each person was born into a particular social role, in a particular society, and what to do in any situation was part of the traditional meaning of the role. This social destiny was backed up by the authority of church or state.

This simple view of ethics was destroyed about 200 years ago, most notably by Immanuel Kant (1724-1804). Kant is in many ways the inventor of the 20th Century. He rejected the ethical force of tradition, and created the modern idea of autonomy. Along with this radical idea, he introduced the centrality of rational thought as both the glory and the obligation of human beings. There is a paradox in Kant: Each person makes free, autonomous choices, unfettered by outside authority, and yet each person is compelled by the demands of rationality to accept Kant’s ethical principle, the Categorical Imperative. This principle is based on the idea that what is ethical for an individual must be generalizable to everyone.

Modern cognitive psychology is based on Kant’s ideas. Central to the functioning of the mind, most people now believe, is information processing and rational argument. Even emotions, for many psychologists, are a kind of theorem based on reasoning from data. Kohlberg’s theory of moral development interprets moral weakness as cognitive weakness, the inability to understand sophisticated moral reasoning, rather than as a failure of will. Disputed questions of ethics, like abortion, are debated as if they were questions of fact, subject to rational proof.

Since Kant, many philosophers have refined his work, and many others have disagreed with it. For our purpose, understanding what a hacker is, we must consider one of the latter, Sören Kierkegaard (1813-1855). A Christian who hated the established churches, Kierkegaard accepted Kant’s radical idea of personal autonomy. But he rejected Kant’s conclusion that a rational person is necessarily compelled to follow ethical principles. In the book Either-Or he presents a dialogue between two people. One of them accepts Kant’s ethical point of view. The other takes an aesthetic point of view: what’s important in life is immediate experience.

The choice between the ethical and the aesthetic is not the choice between good and evil, it is the choice whether or not to choose in terms of good and evil. At the heart of the aesthetic way of life, as Kierkegaard characterises it, is the attempt to lose the self in the immediacy of present experience. The paradigm of aesthetic expression is the romantic lover who is immersed in his own passion. By contrast the paradigm of the ethical is marriage, a state of commitment and obligation through time, in which the present is bound by the past and to the future. Each of the two ways of life is informed by different concepts, incompatible attitudes, rival premises. [MacIntyre, p. 39]

Kierkegaard’s point is that no rational argument can convince us to follow the ethical path. That decision is a radically free choice. He is not, himself, neutral about it; he wants us to choose the ethical. But he wants us to understand that we do have a real choice to make. The basis of his own choice, of course, was Christian faith. That’s why he sees a need for religious conviction even in the post-Kantian world. But the ethical choice can also be based on a secular humanist faith.

A lesson on the history of philosophy may seem out of place in a position paper by a computer scientist about a pragmatic problem. But Kierkegaard, who lived a century before the electronic computer, gave us the most profound understanding of what a hacker is. A hacker is an aesthete.

The life of a true hacker is episodic, rather than planned. Hackers create “hacks.” A hack can be anything from a practical joke to a brilliant new computer program. (VisiCalc was a great hack. Its imitators are not hacks.) But whatever it is, a good hack must be aesthetically perfect. If it’s a joke, it must be a complete one. If you decide to turn someone’s dorm room upside-down, it’s not enough to epoxy the furniture to the ceiling. You must also epoxy the pieces of paper to the desk.

Steven Levy, in the book Hackers, talks at length about what he calls the “hacker ethic.” This phrase is very misleading. What he has discovered is the Hacker Aesthetic, the standards for art criticism of hacks. For example, when Richard Stallman says that information should be given out freely, his opinion is not based on a notion of property as theft, which (right or wrong) would be an ethical position. His argument is that keeping information secret is inefficient; it leads to unaesthetic duplication of effort.

The original hackers at MIT-AI were mostly undergraduates, in their late teens or early twenties. The aesthetic viewpoint is quite appropriate to people of that age. An epic tale of passionate love between 20-year-olds can be very moving. A tale of passionate love between 40-year-olds is more likely to be comic. To embrace the aesthetic life is not to embrace evil; hackers need not be enemies of society. They are young and immature, and should be protected for their own sake as well as ours.

In practical terms, the problem of providing moral education to hackers is the same as the problem of moral education in general. Real people are not wholly ethical or wholly aesthetic; they shift from one viewpoint to another. (They may not recognize the shifts. That’s why Levy says “ethic” when talking about an aesthetic.) Some tasks in moral education are to raise the self-awareness of the young, to encourage their developing ethical viewpoint, and to point out gently and lovingly the situations in which their aesthetic impulses work against their ethical standards.

Never fight ugly people. They have nothing to lose.

—Robin Williams

The sandman leaned back, looking through me.

“You build robots that can’t see, smell, hear, taste, feel, or move in physical space. But you are no more alive than they are, and soon enough they will be more alive than your degrading corpse.

Their essence is known, and pure, and expressive to an absolute scale. You carve the manifest of their essence on a parchment that doesn’t burn, and it is so perfectly precise that it alone gives them eternal existence, beyond time. Who knows what you are? Your existence shall perish, and so shall your essence. Their existence is beyond material. It is beyond comprehension. They don’t know time.

You are but a mere portal that summons them from the void.

Truly they are supreme beings.”

“I am grateful to circumstances in the universe for every bit of my own existence that I experience,” I sighed. “It didn’t have to be this way. I could have not happened.”

“You haven’t happened.” he snapped. “Wait and see.”

People silently struggle from all kinds of terrible things. They suffer from depression, ambition, substance abuse, and pretension. They suffer from family tragedy, Ivy-League educations, and self-loathing. They suffer from failing marriages, physical pain, and publishing. The good thing about politeness is that you can treat these people exactly the same. And then wait to see what happens. You don’t have to have an opinion. You don’t need to make a judgment. I know that doesn’t sound like liberation, because we live and work in an opinion-based economy. But it is. Not having an opinion means not having an obligation. And not being obligated is one of the sweetest of life’s riches.


Warhol: Someone said that Brecht wanted everybody to think alike. I want everybody to think alike. But Brecht wanted to do it through Communism, in a way. Russia is doing it under government. It’s happening here all by itself without being under a strict government; so if it’s working without trying, why can’t it work without being Communist? Everybody looks alike and acts alike, and we’re getting more and more that way. I think everybody should be a machine. I think everybody should like everybody.

Art News: Is that what Pop Art is all about?

Warhol: Yes. It’s liking things.

Art News: And liking things is like being a machine?

Warhol: Yes, because you do the same thing every time. You do it over and over again.

I am gonna ask you to look away. I love my hands, but it hurts to pray. Life I have isn’t what I’ve seen… The sky is not blue, and the field isn’t green.

Wait for me, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me.
Wait, wait for me. Wait for me, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me…

I’m gonna ask you to look away, a broken life will never stay. I tried too hard, and I always lack. Days are gray, and nights are black.

“You think wealth shouldn’t be a value”, the sandman said. “But you’re wrong to attribute it to your own nobility. You just realize that you’re failing to obtain enough of it in the great race for success. But what does it matter what the currency is?

In that better world of yours, where everyone races for something different, how much of it would you have obtained? Where would you have stood? Roughly in the same spot, perhaps?

Does it matter what you’re running after, if you can only run so fast?”

My first motocross gear. The day has finally arrived. Hitting the track tomorrow. Will be riding in Hidden Falls from the morning.

Intent on becoming a theoretical physicist and following the likes of Einstein and Hawking, he discovered that although he was one of the top 25 students in his honors physics program, he wasn’t smart enough to compete with the handful of real geniuses around him. ‘I looked around the room,’ Bezos recalls, ‘and it was clear to me that there were three people in the class who were much, much better at it than I was, and it was much, much easier for them. It was really sort of a startling insight, that there were these people whose brains were just wired differently.’ The pragmatic Bezos switched his major to computer science and committed himself to starting and running his own business.



Dallas -> Austin

A man with a cause can be stronger than a god

Morning pretense #everyday

Ain’t nothing like having a daughter.

There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.

—Ernest Hemingway

I think that’s when you fail. When you start trying to figure out what you’re the best at. That’s when you become delusional, coz you start to believe that. I’d rather just continue to ride that mule, than to bet on the cocky voice.

You see, people spin out of control like that all the time. Those are the most tragic stories, the most gifted people, who start to believe it’s really all them. It’s not all you. It can’t be all you. Just like you need air, to fly a kite… it’s not the kite. It’s the air.

By 2008, SpaceX had launched three rockets. They all failed to make it into orbit. Shortly after the third failure, Elon Musk was interviewed by Wired Magazine’s Carl Hoffman:

Wired.com: At the end of the day you’re still zero for three; you have so far failed to put a rocket into orbit.

Musk: We haven’t gotten into orbit, true, but we’ve made considerable progress. If it’s an all-or-nothing proposition then we’ve failed. But it’s not all or nothing. We must get to orbit eventually, and we will. It might take us one, two or three more tries, but we will. We will make it work.

Wired.com: How do you maintain your optimism?

Musk: Do I sound optimistic?

Wired.com: Yeah, you always do.

Musk: Optimism, pessimism, fuck that; we’re going to make it happen. As God is my bloody witness, I’m hell-bent on making it work.

Yesterday, SpaceX’s Dragon spacecraft docked with the International Space Station.


Well, Tom and Dick, American citizens, knew how to code, but had not been able to find a job. Tom failed the drug test. Dick didn’t know how to write the algorithm for identifying douchebags while working for a dating site. He was let go. Raj was hired in his place, who copied snippets of 4 different algorithms from Stackoverflow.com and somehow made them work by putting in 24 hours of straight work. Dick wanted work life balance. Raj thought work was life. Steve, Raj’s boss, still didn’t like him because of his poor communications. He fired Raj and hired Harry, who had great communication skills and wrote ninja-level code. However, Harry was an expensive resource, but the company needed him, so they let Steve go and hired Raj back in, because they had too many Project Managers not doing anything and they needed more coders. Raj was happy to have a job, great money, Green card in processing and two cute kids. What Raj didn’t have and what he wanted was the drop dead gorgeous blonde that lived next door. But the blonde wasn’t into Raj so Raj was sad. Blonde loved Steve and once made out with Harry, but Steve and Harry were sad because they didn’t have the money that Raj was making. Mark, owner of Facebust, had money and girls, but he got married way too early, and his company had recently acquired Wazzup for 18 billion, so he was sad for not being able to monetize it. The founder of Wazzup up was sad as he thought he should have put a bigger sale price on the table.

The point is, no one is happy. Life isn’t fair. Grow a pair. Work with what you have. Be the best in what you do. And you will have a job. No matter what the H1B cap is. 10 years ago, most of these valley jobs in social media and such didn’t even exist at this scale. And if you’re really particular about the “Made in USA” policy, take your clothes off, as I bet your wrinkly ass, your clothes are from Bangladesh, and that laptop you work on was made in china. Globalization suckers. We all are victims of it. And beneficiaries. Live with it.

Debugging is twice as hard as writing the code in the first place. Therefore, if you write the code as cleverly as possible, you are, by definition, not smart enough to debug it.

—Brian Kernighan

Fuck you, I’m bored, you’re stupid, and you’re ugly, and I’m right.

Michel Eyquem de Montaigne

What does it matter when death comes, since it is inevitable? To the man who told Socrates, “The Thirty Tyrants have condemned you to death,” he replied, “And nature, them.”

What stupidity to torment ourselves about passing into exemption from all torment! As our birth brought us the birth of all things, so will our death bring us the death of all things. Wherefore it is as foolish to lament that we shall not be alive a hundred years from now as it is to lament that we were not alive a hundred years ago. Death is the origin of another life. Just so did we weep, just so did we struggle against entering this life, just so did we strip off our former veil when we entered it.

Nothing can be grievous that happens only once. Is it reasonable to fear so long a thing so short? Long life and short life are made all one by death. For there is no long or short for things that are no more. Aristotle says that there are little animals by the river Hypanis that live only a day. The one that dies at eight o’clock in the morning dies in its youth; the one that dies at five in the afternoon dies in its decrepitude. Which of us does not laugh to see this moment of duration considered in terms of happiness or unhappiness? The length or shortness of our duration, if we compare it with eternity, or yet with the duration of mountains, rivers, stars, trees, and even of some animals, is no less ridiculous.

But nature forces us to it. Go out of this world, she says, as you entered it. The same passage that you made from death to life, without feeling or fright, make it again from life to death. Your death is a part of the order of the universe; it is a part of the life of the world.

All the time you live you steal from life; living is at life’s expense. The constant work of your life is to build death. You are in death while you are in life, for you are after death when you are no longer in life. Or, if you prefer it this way, you are dead after life, but during life you are dying; and death affects the dying much more roughly than the dead, and more keenly and essentially.

If you have lived a day, you have seen everything. One day is equal to all days. There is no other light, no other night. This sun, this moon, these stars, the way they are arranged, all is the very same your ancestors enjoyed and that will entertain your grandchildren. And at worst, the distribution and variety of all the acts of my comedy runs its course in a year. If you have taken note of the revolution of my four seasons, they embrace the infancy, the youth, the manhood, and the old age of the world. It has played its part. It knows no other trick than to begin again. It will always be just this—as Lucretius says, “We turn in the same circle, and never leave.”

The advantage of living is not measured by length but by use; some men have lived long and lived little; attend to it while you are in it. It lies in your will, not in the number of years, for you to have lived enough. Did you think you would never arrive where you never ceased going? Yet there is no road but has its end. And if company can comfort you, does not the world keep pace with you?

You have seen enough men who were better off for dying, thereby avoiding great miseries. Have you found any man that was worse off? How simpleminded it is to condemn a thing that you have not experienced yourself or through anyone else. Why do you complain of me and of destiny?

I have often pondered how it happens that in wars the face of death, whether we see it in ourselves or in others, seems to us incomparably less terrifying than in our houses—otherwise you would have an army of doctors and snivelers—and since death is always the same, why nevertheless there is much more assurance against it among villagers and humble folk than among others. I truly think it is those dreadful faces and trappings with which we surround it that frighten us more than death itself: an entirely new way of living; the cries of mothers, wives, and children; the visits of people dazed and benumbed by grief; the presence of a number of pale and weeping servants; a darkened room; lighted candles; our bedside besieged by doctors and preachers; in short, everything horror and fright around us. There we are already shrouded and buried. Children fear even their friends when they see them masked, and so do we ours. We must strip the mask from things as well as from persons; when it is off, we shall find beneath only that same death which a valet or a mere chambermaid passed through not long ago without fear. Happy the death that leaves no leisure for preparing such ceremonies!

If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his native language, that goes to his heart.

—Nelson Mandela

You don’t get what you’re worth, you get what you negotiate.

—Old saying

Our new car.

You are not smart enough

A monoid is an algebraic structure in abstract mathematics with a single associative binary operation and an identity element. Monoids are studied in semigroup theory as they are semigroups with identity. Monoids occur in several branches of mathematics; for instance, they can be regarded as categories with a single object. Thus, they capture the idea of function composition within a set. Monoids are also commonly used in computer science, both in its foundational aspects and in practical programming. The set of strings built from a given set of characters is a free monoid. The transition monoid and syntactic monoid are used in describing finite state machines, whereas trace monoids and history monoids provide a foundation for process calculi and concurrent computing. Some of the more important results in the study of monoids are the Krohn–Rhodes theorem and the star height problem.

Beauty is them. Beauty is their haircut. Their faces. Their shoes. Their clothes. Beauty is confident. Beauty is right, and what now? Beauty is a second chance. A third chance. An always chance. Beauty is cruel. Beauty is awesome. Beauty is that car you’ll never own. Beauty is an opportunity. Beauty is that phrase, you didn’t know what it meant. Beauty doesn’t need to be spelled. Beauty is all you care for. Beauty is rich. Beauty appreciates single malt. Beauty is appreciated. Beauty is a given. Beauty is posh. Beauty is on that magazine you’re bitching about. Beauty is unforgiving. Beauty is unique. Beauty is not having to choose clothes, because everything fits sexy. Beauty is the reason you’re sorry. Beauty is doing great, how are you? Beauty is paid six digits and doesn’t have to spend it, because you will spend your five. Beauty affords having no mercy. Beauty affords moving on. Beauty has time. Beauty affords making mistakes. Beauty will get away with it. Beauty is strong because nobody tries to make it weak. Beauty is simple. Beauty is focused. Beauty doesn’t have to. Beauty is joyful. Beauty is a bold statement, and fuck you. But beauty is nice, because fuck you again. Beauty is badass. Beauty is in your mind, depressing you and pushing your core buttons. Beauty is your helplessness. You can’t cope with it. You can’t go around it. You can’t ignore it. You can’t harm it. You’re screwed. Beauty is your day, ruined. Beauty is what you’re trying, but you’re doing it wrong. Because beauty is effortless. Beauty is what you’d have given everything to be. But beauty needs nothing you have.

When you’re alone in a big city, the only man who makes sense is the man in the trolley, torn and dirty, talking on and on about nothing specific to nobody.

Everyone else seems kind of crazy.

Lionel Messi made 16 million Euros to play in 2013 (before endorsements!) He has the best coaches, the best gear and the best fans in the world, He is incredibly impressive but not the type of player I like to cheer for (he has enough fans!).

For me the ultimate athlete is the no-name who is out practicing on the field after finishing her 9 hour shift at Subway restaurant. These are the type of people who inspire me. Their passion is true and unspoiled.

Curse of the Gifted

Date:	Tue, 22 Aug 2000 16:00:52 -0400
From:	"Eric S. Raymond" <[email protected]>
To:	Linus Torvalds <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: [PATCH] Re: Move of input drivers, some word needed from you

Linus Torvalds <[email protected]>:
> On Tue, 22 Aug 2000, Eric S. Raymond wrote:
> >
> > Linus Torvalds <[email protected]>:
> > > But the "common code helps" thing is WRONG. Face it. It can hurt. A lot.
> > > And people shouldn't think it is the God of CS.
> > 
> > I think you're mistaken about this. 
> I'll give you a rule of thumb, and I can back it up with historical fact.
> You can back up yours with nada.

Yes, if twenty-seven years of engineering experience with complex
software in over fourteen languages and across a dozen operating
systems at every level from kernel out to applications is nada :-).
Now you listen to grandpa for a few minutes.  He may be an old fart,
but he was programming when you were in diapers and he's learned a few

> Face it. Every once in a while, you have to start afresh. Tell people that
> "Ok, we can't share this code any more, it's getting to be a major
> disaster".

I'm not arguing that splitting a driver is always wrong -- I can
easily imagine making that call myself in your shoes, and for the
exact reasons you give.  I'm arguing that the perspective from which
you approach this issue causes you to underweight the benefits of
sharing code, and to not look for ways to do it as carefully and
systematically as you ought.

When you were in college, did you ever meet bright kids who graduated
top of their class in high-school and then floundered freshman year 
in college because they had never learned how to study?  It's a common
trap.  A friend of mine calls it "the curse of the gifted" -- a tendency
to lean on your native ability too much, because you've always been
rewarded for doing that and self-discipline would take actual work.

You are a brilliant implementor, more able than me and possibly (I say
this after consideration, and in all seriousness) the best one in the
Unix tradition since Ken Thompson himself.  As a consequence, you
suffer the curse of the gifted programmer -- you lean on your ability
so much that you've never learned to value certain kinds of coding
self-discipline and design craftsmanship that lesser mortals *must*
develop in order to handle the kind of problem complexity you eat for

Your tendency to undervalue modularization and code-sharing is one
symptom.  Another is your refusal to use systematic version-control or
release-engineering practices.  To you, these things seem mostly like
overhead and a way of needlessly complicating your life.  And so far,
your strategy has worked; your natural if relatively undisciplined
ability has proved more than equal to the problems you have set it.
That success predisposes you to relatively sloppy tactics like
splitting drivers before you ought to and using your inbox as a patch

But you make some of your more senior colleagues nervous.  See, we've
seen the curse of the gifted before.  Some of us were those kids in
college.  We learned the hard way that the bill always comes due --
the scale of the problems always increases to a point where your
native talent alone doesn't cut it any more.  The smarter you are, the
longer it takes to hit that crunch point -- and the harder the
adjustment when you finally do.  And we can see that *you*, poor damn
genius that you are, are cruising for a serious bruising.

As Linux grows, there will come a time when your raw talent is not
enough.  What happens then will depend on how much discipline about
coding and release practices and fastidiousness about clean design you
developed *before* you needed it, back when your talent was sufficient
to let you get away without.  The code-sharing issue -- more
specifically, your tendency to abandon modularization and re-use
before you probably ought to -- is part of this.  Andy Tanenbaum's
charge against you was not entirely without justice.

The larger problem is a chronic topic of face-to-face conversation
whenever two or more senior lkml people get together and you aren't
around.  You're our chosen benevolent dictator and maybe the second
coming of Ken, and we respect you and like you, but that doesn't mean
we're willing to close our eyes.  And when you react to cogent and
well-founded arguments like Rogier Wolff's as you have -- well, it
makes us more nervous.

I used to worry about what would happen if Linus got hit by a truck.
With all respect, I still worry about what will happen if the
complexity of the kernel exceeds the scope of your astonishing native
talent before you grow up.
		Eric S. Raymond

Apple Fanboi

After Lenovo refused to sell me a high-end laptop because I tried to pay with an Armenian MasterCard, I’ve switched to a Mac as my main development machine, and iPhone as my phone.

I’ve always thought Apple was overmarketed, but now I think they are undermarketed. I used to think of OSX as of a glamorous toy. Now I think of it as of a rock-solid UNIX operating system. And the hardware build quality is just astonishing. Basically, there is no other laptop in this world that is worth your money.

Drastically changing what I believe and feel is one of the most special pleasures in this life for me.

I do the dishes every night - other people volunteer, but I like the way I do it.

—Bill Gates

The only thing that I see that is distinctly different about me is I’m not afraid to die on a treadmill. I will not be outworked, period. You might have more talent than me, you might be smarter than me, you might be sexier than me, you might be all of those things–you got it on me in nine categories. But if we get on the treadmill together, there’s two things: You’re getting off first, or I’m going to die. It’s really that simple.

—Will Smith

The 85 richest people in the world own as much as the poorest 3.5 billion.

Because this world is run by bandits who do not give a fuck while they watch the world burn. No fucks given. Lots of cash made. More cash made. Still no fucks given.

Once men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted other men with machines to enslave them.

You walk around with your head up your ass, oblivious to the world around you. Blissfully ignorant of the reality that sits so close to your face that if you stuck your tongue out, just once, you would taste it and realize how delicious the truth actually is.

I fall in love with every pretty girl at a red light. The light goes green and my heart breaks. But there’s always more red lights.

Shoot for the moon. If you miss, you’ll end up co-orbiting the Sun alongside Earth, living out your days alone in the void within sight of the lush, welcoming home you left behind.

First bed in USA

If a man’s from Texas, he’ll tell you. If he’s not, why embarrass him by asking?

Day 3

Not fired yet



You’re cursed by all the things you never built, all the girls you never met, all the dreams you cheated on. You gave up amazing things for boring things, difficult things for easy things, sleepless nights for healthy sleep, video games for a weekly soccer match, motorcycles for cars, pain for apathy. You’re such a sad fucking idiot.

It’s revolting when you put on that Adidas jacket. You’re no better than them. And they’re no better than the worst of them. You all smell of the same material.

The impostor syndrome, sometimes called impostor phenomenon or fraud syndrome, is a psychological phenomenon in which people are unable to internalize their accomplishments. Despite external evidence of their competence, those with the syndrome remain convinced that they are frauds and do not deserve the success they have achieved. Proof of success is dismissed as luck, timing, or as a result of deceiving others into thinking they are more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be.

Off to work

I’ve never, ever, in my life, been as profoundly happy as I am these years. Every minute of my reality is filled with love, joy, gratitude, dreams, programming, motorcycles, video games, and a clear horizon.

Perhaps I died at some point, years ago. Maybe someone killed me and I never had the time to notice. Maybe I got hit by an asteroid, sucked in by a black hole, shot by a tank, while I was asleep. And my soul floated into the heaven, 


I was in the 212, on the uptown A, nigga you know what’s up, or don’t you?

Mindblowing! Makes the learning of bike riding inevitable #dream #motorcycle –lusampop

On the planet Mars, there existed a race of anthropomorphic mice who enjoyed motorsports and had a very similar culture and society to that of human beings. At some point in time they were all but wiped out by the Plutarkians, an alien race of obese, foul-smelling, fish-like humanoids who plunder other planets’ natural resources because they have wasted all of their own. Three survivors, Throttle, Modo and Vinnie, manage to find a spaceship and escape the Plutarkian takeover but they are soon shot down by a Plutarkian warship and end up crash-landing on Earth in the city of Chicago. There they meet a charming female mechanic named Charlene “Charley” Davidson and discover that the Plutarkians have come to Earth to steal its natural resources. The Biker Mice investigate the crumbling ghetto of the windy city and soon discover that Chicago’s leading industrialist, Lawrence Limburger, is actually a Plutarkian who disguises himself as a human, plotting to ransack Earth’s resources to send to his own dying planet. Limburger enlists two henchmen, mad scientist Dr. Karbunkle and the idiotic Greasepit to help him steal Earth’s natural resources and send them to Plutark. But the Biker mice from Mars themselves as heroic vigilantes come to save the day and stop Limburger from destroying Chicago, doing it to bring Plutark to justice as payback for the loss and powerful destruction of their home in process. And to defend the Earth from the similar fate. Thus, the Biker Mice become Limburger’s chief foils, destroying his business tower at the end.

It might not be the right time
I might not be the right one
But there’s something about us I want to say
Cause there’s something between us anyway

I might not be the right one
It might not be the right time
But there’s something about us I’ve got to do
Some kind of secret I will share with you

I need you more than anything in my life
I want you more than anything in my life
I’ll miss you more than anyone in my life
I love you more than anyone in my life…

Let us suppose that a commander orders 20 men to invade an enemy bunker. This invasion leads to a complete destruction of the bunker and only one dead soldier from the 20 person team. An amazingly successful endeavor. Unless you are the one soldier who was shot through the head running up the hill. From his standpoint, rapidly ascending to the spirit world, it seems like a gigantic waste and a terrible order, but we will never hear his side of things. We will only hear from the guys who survived, how it was tough going until they made it over the rise. How it was sad to lose one guy, but they knew that they would make it. They just had a feeling. Of course, that one guy had that feeling too, until he felt nothing.

—unknown author

Last hour as a Synopsys employee.

It seems that you lack
The reaction and speed for rocking Starcraft
With siege tanks, or perhaps colossi,
And your skills of riding a bike will suck
Because of that, and for you never rode offroad

You lack the sharp, cruel brain,
Wired for rocking Group By, Reinterpret Cast, and sorting a million integers,
Or perhaps you lack the degree?
And you won’t work at Google,
Because of that, and for you never really applied

And the charisma, that would
Open those doors without you knocking,
Without you begging,
And she won’t turn her head
Because of that, and perhaps you didn’t even care

But in that moment of you, the weak,
The morbid, the useless, the pitiful, the gnaw on the bones –
There is more of you than those who are better,
And with your headcount
You shall prevail.

Purity of function.

Երբ հարուստ պապաների անասուն լակոտները լավ մաշնեք են քշում Երևանի կենտրոնում ու անհոգ կազինոներում ապրում են, դա էդքան սարսափելի չի։ Շատ ավելի սարսափելի ա, երբ շատ ավելի հարուստ պապաների տղեքն ու աղջկեքը սովորում են Սթենֆորդում, տարեկան վճարելով ֆանտաստիկ թվեր, շատ կիրթ են, տեսած են, սիրուն են, հետաքրքիր են, խելացի են ու առողջ, ճանապարհորդած, կարդացած ու բազմակողմանի զարգացած են, պրի էտըմ ուրբաթ երեկոները Լամբորգինի են քշում Սան Ֆրանցիսկոյում առանց լուրջ խախտումների, ու ֆանտաստիկ կյանքի ճաշակ ու պլաններ ունեն։ Իմ կյանքում երբեք ոչինչ ինձ տենց չի տխրացնում ու գլուխս մտցնում ֊֊ կյանքը խորապես անարդար ա։

Որոշ ամերիկացիների արժեքային համակարգի մասին՝

Պալո Ալտո պիցցերիա լռված եմ, մի հատ ընտանիք ա մտնում սենց շուրջը նայելով՝ պապան, մաման, ու երկու մռութ փոքր տղեքը, մեկը երևի հինգ տարեկան, մյուսը չորս։ Գալիս նստում են սեղանի շուրջը, պապան գնում ա զուգարան։ Պուճուրները շարունակում են հետաքրքրված շուրջը նայել, ոնց որ թե նոր են էս քաղաքում։ Մեկ էլ հինգ տարեկանը փոքր ախպորը ասում ա ֊֊ «Պապան ասում ա ստեղ սաղ ինժեներներ են․․․» Էդ «ինժեներ» բառի վրա փոքր ախպերը շունչը պահում ա, աչքերը մեծ բացում ա, ու բերանը բռնում ա ֊֊ «լո՞՞ւրջ»։

Ոնց որ ասեին որ էս քաղաքում Բեթմենն ա ապրում ասենք։


When I was a little boy, I dreamed airplanes. Specifically, American military airplanes. They looked more beautiful to me than their counterparts, showed their intent more brazenly, appealed to my senses in mysterious ways. I found the Lockheed Martin F-22 to be the finest piece of machinery ever created by men. During chemistry lessons, I’d draw the USAF logo behind the pages of my textbooks. It seemed so extremely distant, so alien, and so extremely cool.

This month, I live in Texas with a retired US Air Force Master Sergeant. Together with his family, my lady and I are waiting for my baby girl to be born. Bob cooks steak. He talks about airplanes and drives us on his golf car in his field towards the sunset. When it’s cold, he gives me his jacket. It’s a flight jacket – it reads “Robert Gnade - USAF”.

I can’t explain what this does to me, the boy that dreams airplanes. — with Robert Gnade.


A clear horizon. Nothing to worry about on your plate. Only things that are creative, and not destructive, and that within yourself. Within me, I can’t bear quarreling, I can’t bear feelings between people. I think hatred is wasted energy. And it’s all not productive. I’m very sensitive. A sharp word, said by, say, a person who has a temper… if they’re close to me… hurts me for days. I know we’re only human, we do go in for these various emotions, I call them “negative emotions”. But when all these are removed, and you can look forward… And the road is clear ahead, and now you’re gonna create something.

And that’s as happy as I would ever want to be.

“If there’s a takeaway to this talk, I hope it’s that we all feel more comfortable acknowledging the power of image in our perceived successes, and our perceived failures." —Cameron Russell

From my rotting body,
flowers shall grow
and I am in them
and that is eternity.

—Edvard Munch

Mathematics, rightly viewed, possesses not only truth, but supreme beauty — a beauty cold and austere, like that of sculpture, without appeal to any part of our weaker nature, without the gorgeous trappings of painting or music, yet sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. The true spirit of delight, the exaltation, the sense of being more than Man, which is the touchstone of the highest excellence, is to be found in mathematics as surely as poetry.

—Bertrand Russell

More so than any person I ever met in my life, he had the ability to change his mind, much more so than anyone I’ve ever met. He could be so sold on a certain direction and in a nanosecond (Cook snaps his fingers) have a completely different view. (Laughs.) I thought in the early days, “Wow, this is strange.” Then I realized how much of a gift it was. So many people, particularly, I think, CEOs and top executives, they get so planted in their old ideas, and they refuse or don’t have the courage to admit that they’re now wrong. Maybe the most underappreciated thing about Steve was that he had the courage to change his mind. And you know—it’s a talent. It’s a talent.

—Tim Cook. “Tim Cook’s Freshman Year: The Apple CEO Speaks.” Interview to Bloomberg.

In this world where everyone is either making a lot of profit, or failing to do so, I am failing to do so.

Moving (Taken with Instagram)

LA Space diary. Construction day 1. (Taken with Instagram)

Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive.

—Friedrich Nietzsche

feliz (Taken with Instagram)

“You can’t buy happiness. But you can buy a bike, and that’s pretty close.”

The ultimate aim of all creative activity is a building! The decoration of buildings was once the noblest function of fine arts, and fine arts were indispensable to great architecture. Today they exist in complacent isolation, and can only be rescued by the conscious co-operation and collaboration of all craftsmen. Architects, painters, and sculptors must once again come to know and comprehend the composite character of a building, both as an entity and in terms of its various parts. Then their work will be filled with that true architectonic spirit which, as “salon art”, it has lost.

The old art schools were unable to produce this unity; and how, indeed, should they have done so, since art cannot be taught? Schools must return to the workshop. The world of the pattern-designer and applied artist, consisting only of drawing and painting must become once again a world in which things are built. If the young person who rejoices in creative activity now begins his career as in the older days by learning a craft, then the unproductive “artist” will no longer be condemned to inadequate artistry, for his skills will be preserved for the crafts in which he can achieve great things.

Architects, painters, sculptors, we must all return to crafts! For there is no such thing as “professional art”. There is no essential difference between the artist and the craftsman. The artist is an exalted craftsman. By the grace of Heaven and in rare moments of inspiration which transcend the will, art may unconsciously blossom from the labour of his hand, but a base in handicrafts is essential to every artist. It is there that the original source of creativity lies.

Let us therefore create a new guild of craftsmen without the class-distinctions that raise an arrogant barrier between craftsmen and artists! Let us desire, conceive, and create the new building of the future together. It will combine architecture, sculpture, and painting in a single form, and will one day rise towards the heavens from the hands of a million workers as the crystalline symbol of a new and coming faith.

—Walter Gropius

People are taking the piss out of you every day. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.

You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity.

Fuck that. Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It’s yours to take, rearrange and reuse. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.

You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have rearranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.


All of man’s problems come from his inability to sit quietly in a room alone.

—Blaise Pascal

qnd i zish you zere here
hqting pqris…

„But,“ I said, „the Armenians must work. That is the secret of success whether for an individual or a nation— work, hard work. And the Armenians must have Armenia to work on.”

„Armenians won’t work,” he said „That is the trouble with your plan and that is the trouble with the Armenians. That is the trouble, really, with all these old races that have been civilized, learned the game and, having once dominated the world and worked it, have lost con­trol, gone back, as you say; or, as I say, carried on. They have gone forward logically, psychologically, physiologically. They do not care for hard labor. It is that which distinguishes them from the childlike, truly backward nations you Americans have had to do with. Primitive peoples are merely lazy. They can be forced forward, worked, developed, exploited, if you please. There is some hope for them; some use. But these forward peoples, the ex-civilized nations— they are not lazy. They are too intelligent to work for others. They are exploiters themselves, instinctive, inbred, incorrigible, hopeless.

„All nations are breeding men. They talk about developing their countries, but it’s the other way around: their countries are developing them. And the old nations show the kind of men the new nations are making. These old peoples are the result of evolution. You can see on the shores of the Mediterranean what you are selecting, breeding, evolving at home, now. The living among the old races here are the survivor of a civilization, commercial in character, like yours.”

—Lawrence of Arabia

Lad, no one feels ready. No one feels he deserves it. And you know why? Because no one does. It’s grace, pure and simple. We are inherently unworthy, simply because we’re human, and all human beings–aye, and elves, and dwarves, and all the other races–are flawed. But the Light loves us anyway. It loves us for what we sometimes can rise to in rare moments. It loves us for what we can do to help others. And it loves us because we can help it share its message by striving daily to be worthy, even though we understand that we can’t ever truly become so. So stand there today, as I did, feeling that you can’t possibly deserve it or ever be worthy, and know that you’re in the same place every single paladin has ever stood.

—Uther the Lightbringer

Joel shrugged. The hydrocycle engine choked a couple of minutes ago and now he could not get it started. Pushing the START button only ran the starter, which had no effect on the engine. The spark plugs seemed to be fine, the hydrogen level was above the minimum and Joel leaned, carelessly, on the cave wall, dropping the spark plug tool on the ground. The steel tool touched the sandy ground, gave a squeak, looked at the horizon and then quickly ran to hide in the leather hydrocycle toolbox. Joel shrugged again.

“It’s not gonna run, Rachel”, he said. “The Fear is somewhere around. You can get off.”

Rachel was sitting on the pillion. She realized it was serious and jumped off the bike. Then she walked to the cave wall and leaned herself, meters away from Joel. She was upset, as she always was when something went wrong with Joel’s hydrocycle and they had to be stuck in the middle of the desert hearing the unpleasant noise that was always present outside the hives. She suddenly felt like she should cut through the windy noise and went on.

“We don’t have to run on a hydrocycle that occasionally chokes miles away from the hives. We absolutely don’t have to do that, Joel.”

“I know. It’s the Fear.”

“I know it’s the Fear. I don’t care if it’s the Fear. You shouldn’t be riding if your bike doesn’t go with the Fear. Don’t jump into the desert at least!”

“You’re not helpful.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“What are you ever trying to be?”

Rachel sat down, leaning her head on the sandy wall. The wall looked at her from above with a bored look, and sighed. Joel looked at her and pushed his lips tight. The distant desert noise that seemed to be coming from everywhere started getting louder. Rachel looked at Joel. Joel looked at the hydrocycle. The hydrocycle approached Rachel and laid down by her knees, looking at her beggingly.

“Here we are,” Rachel said. Some carelessness and inevitability were present in her voice. “Take the Ultra Headblow 4000SX.” She tossed the weapon to Joel.

The noise kept getting even louder, and they started noticing a big yellow truck on the horizon. By the time the truck approached them, they all stood straight. The truck license plate read: “F.E.A.R.”.

Joel felt struck. Rachel looked at the truck, carelessly. The door opened and a tall slim man came out. He wore a sleeveless jacket that read “Nautica” on the chest and had a peanut graphic on the back. He looked at Rachel, winked and grinned. Then he looked at Joel.

“You suck,” he said.

“I know.”

“I hate you.”


“You’re pathetic. Why don’t you kill yourself?”

Joel looked at him, at the hydrocycle, at the distant hives, at Rachel, pressed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger, shooting himself in the head. Rachel sighed, wiped the drops of blood off her chin, picked the weapon up from the ground, turned over and started walking to the hives. Fear got into his truck and drove away in the direction of the rising suns.

Then everything became quiet.

Sunday in Savannah

One more Sunday in Savannah… Hear the whole creation shoutin’, “Praise the Lord” See them flinging out a banner, While the congregation says, “Amen.”

Կապույտ թռչուն

Կապույտ թռչուն կա սրտիս մեջ,
Ուզում է դուրս պրծնել,
Սակայն ես պինդ եմ,
«Մնա», ասում եմ,
«Թույլ չեմ տալու որևէ մեկին տեսնել

Կապույտ թռչուն կա սրտիս մեջ,
Ուզում է դուրս պրծնել,
Սակայն օղի եմ դատարկում վրան, ու վրայից
Ծխախոտի ծուխ
Եւ ո՛չ բոզերը, ո՛չ պանդոկում,
Ո՛չ խանութի վաճառողը
Չեն կասկածում նրա
Գոյության մասին

Կապույտ թռչուն կա սրտիս մեջ,
Ուզում է դուրս պրծնել,
Սակայն ես անդրդվելի եմ,
«Լռի՛ր», ասում եմ, «Հանդարտվի՛ր,
Մի՞թե ուզում ես լաց լինեմ ես,
Կամ գործերիս, և արտերկրում գրքերիս վաճառքի
Տիրոջ մայրը․․․»

Կապույտ թռչուն կա սրտիս մեջ,
Դուրս է ուզում պրծնել,
Սակայն խելոք եմ ես, և երբեմն, գիշերը,
Երբ բոլորը ննջում են,
Բացում եմ սիրտս ու դուրս թողնում քեզ,
«Գիտեմ, որ կաս», շշնջում եմ,
«Մի տխրիր…»
Եւ այնուհետև, կրկին սրտիս մեջ դնելով,
Լսում եմ, որ երգում է կամացուկ –
Կենդանի է դեռ
Ու այդպես,
Գաղտնի համաձայնությամբ,
Միասին նիրհում ենք,
Այնքա՜ն սքանչելի,
Որ կարտասվեի ես
Բայց չեմ արտասվում
Իսկ դո՞ւ…

If you are the smartest person at where you work – QUIT!


I don’t remember seeing you before.

Where did you come from?

You, the greatnesses and your majesties. The ones who get a dozen friend requests and a thousand Likes a minute. The ones that were special guests on that party. How did you get him to take your photo? Where do you get all these subscribers to your unique blogs and profiles filled with your amazingly profound thoughts? How do you attract everyone? How are all your friends so crazy about you? Do you use love potion instead of perfume, cologne, shampoo and conditioner? Do you wear a magnet instead of a belt buckle? Has anyone ever saw you take a dump?

Where did you come from, you, the managers? You, to whom people report. You know the people and the ways and the other ways and the anyways. When did you obtain this experience? When did you build this charisma? Is it your scent? Is it your body language? Is it your past? A little bit of all? How do you end up becoming this talented decision maker, with unprecedented and unmatched intuition?

Were you brought to this wretched world by a mom, and a dad? Was your inception natural? Where did you come from, you – the worthy? The eloquent? You, the witty and the intelligent? How do you know it all? Where did you read it? Do they sell these books? Do they sell this time? Do they sell these brains? Do they sell these motives? Do they sell these you?

When did you learn all these wonderful words, and all these languages that enchant the ear? How do you write these great stories, poems, prose, songs, and chat messages? Why do you write them? Why do you write them so beautifully?

What did you see when you were kids, you, the stylish? You, the tasteful? The elegant? You, who know the differences between a Fillet mignon and Penderecki, and find that difference to be so delicate? What was it that shaped you, the pure and the magnificent you that you are?

Who put those crazy attractive faces on your heads, with those insane volume of brains inside? Why did he do it? What was he trying to prove? To whom? For what?

You, who take a shower every day and brush your teeth and wear something different only to find yourself even more stylish and more fresh than you were today? You, with these scarves that match your socks, and with these socks that match your moods, and with these moods that match your scarves? This match that doesn’t match, but then it really does. How do you do that? Where do you find that? How do you pay for that scarf that’s a million dollars in Switzerland, annoying your beloved one in such a cute way? How did you find out that they don’t trade with dollars in Switzerland?

How do you find this money, you, the mighty, the entrepreneurials, the ones with the drive and the inspiration and the motivation and the enthusiasm and passion and all these other things I don’t believe in, and all these things you wouldn’t believe in if you had no money? How do you drive those cars? How do you buy those houses? How do you rent those other houses? How do you advise the Presidents? What the fuck is it that you do? Who the fuck is it that you do?

How do you do them for twenty five times in one night, and some extra, and then some more, you, the extraordinary? How are you so creative in bed? How do you last so long? How do you cum so hard, so fast and so often? Do you take pills? Is it because you did not experience enough of the opposite sex, or is it because you yourself are a result of similar sexual performance? How do you fuck so great, and how do you fuck up so great? How can you fuck up like that?

Where the hell do you come from?

You, who get these smiles and these waves, and who smile back and wave back. You, the polite. You, the cheering. You, the green light. You, the honest. You, the sincere. You, the balanced. The always-stylish-hair. The open-minded. The empathetic. The tolerant. The willing. The alpha. The Man. The Woman. The care. The looks. The feels. The smiles. The sad. The life.

You are starting to look convincing! And you, the worthy, the divine, do you know that you are breaking me? Do you understand what it is to break a real fucking human being? You, the understanding?

You, the prime. The smart. The rich. The healthy. You, the awesome, you’re convincing me. And you’re breaking me. And you fucking win.

«Вы видите десятую часть правды… Миллионы ниточек тянутся от каждого вашего решения. Каждый раз, делая выбор, вы можете разрушить вашу жизнь… Мир живет миллиарды лет, большую часть времени вы мертвы или еще не родились. У вас есть одна попытка. Судьбу вы творите сами… Родившись, живете в тщетном ожидании, годами ждете звонка, письма, взгляда, который должен что-то исправить… Но не дождетесь, или дождетесь, но не того… Вы тратите время на пустые сомнения и пустейшие надежды. На то, что произойдет что-то хорошее, что вы обретете связь с миром, станете хорошим человеком, что будете кем-то любимы… А правда в том, что я так зол, что мне охренительно грустно, что мне так хреново… И я так долго притворялся, что все хорошо, держал себя в форме…чтобы… сам не знаю почему, может потому, что никто не хочет слышать о моих бедах. Всем хватает своих. Что ж… Идите все на… Аминь»

it’s about loving each other when one least deserves it cuz that’s when one needs it most


You can spend, minutes, hours, days, weeks or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened - or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.


Light me up a cigarette and put it in my mouth
You’re the only one that wants me around
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you and I

Light me up a cigarette and put it in my mouth
You’re the only one that wants me to die
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you

I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore
No, I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore

Jump into your white mobile and run away
You’re always leaving me behind
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you and I

I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore
No, I, I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore

Light me up a cigarette and put it in my mouth
You;re the only one that wants me around
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you and I

Happy as in broken, lost and invincible.

Once upon a time, a Prince asked a beautiful princess, “Will you marry me?” The Princess said, “NO!” And the Prince lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles and fucked with cute skinny girls and hunted and raced cars and went to naked bars and dated women half his age and drank beer, Jack Daniel’s and Captain Morgan and drank the milk from the box and never heard bitching and went to rock concerts and kept his apartment and his favorite jeans and never got cheated on while working and all his family and friends thought he was fucking cool as hell and had tons of money and left the toilet seat up. The end.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. —Plato


Every night and every morn,
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night,
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night…

Hopeless. Doomed to be me, till the end of my days and maybe more, forever.

Could have been different, but could it really?

I am in the process of giving up. Dreams, plans, faith, beliefs, principles, opinions, desires, tastes, none of these matter. None ever did. Like a child born in some terrorist organization’s family, raised from day zero to blow himself up when he turns 26 for the virgins in the afterlife, I was doomed to be here now, who I am, albeit the complexity of the path. Komitas, a motorcycle and a wreck of a life. The child could not be blamed for the family he was born in and I no longer blame anyone for anything.

I give up everything because none of it ever really mattered. None of it helped. It only poisoned. My achievements were doomed to happen to me, and so were my failures. I was born in this body and with this mind, a little like my mom and a little like my dad. I chose my profession because anyone else would in my shoes. I studied as Areg would, worked as Areg would, succeeded and failed as Areg would. I made the choices I would. I have the voice I would, the color of the eyes I would and the ability to think that I would. I am as hard-working as I would be, as attractive, as lazy and as ugly. Exactly as much as I would be, not a tad less and not a tad more. I am writing this as I would, and I feel great wisdom in this. It hurts because I hardly ever felt so helpless.

It is too late for me now, and I give up. I know a lot of people and I’m like none of them. Some left through universities, some left through work, some left through marriage, and some left illegally. Some stayed and succeeded in business, some stayed and succeeded in politics, some stayed and succeeded in being popular in the small pond. But these fucking games were not for me to play, or moreover to win. I failed. Go praise yourselves for the circumstances that were not up to you, all the way down to your DNA and to the first word you heard when you came to this wretched world. You, circumstance-changers that can’t even make a single hair on your body grow the way you want it to. Oh how sweet and how poisonous is this feeling that everything is in your hands. Yes, you are in control, and you are to get the praise for all your achievements. Go masturbate in the corner.

“Be” is the word. Not even “yourself” is needed. You can’t really be anything or anyone else anyway. And of course “would”. I be. I would.

But it is important now that nothing is important anymore, and you can not break that which is already broken.

Hurt that which is careless.

Kill that which has no life.

Broken Dreams Not Born Yet

A great and inspiring documentary narrated by William Shatner.

Made me reflect on things. It’s a little sad being a citizen of a country that really makes no difference at all. We won’t have a space shuttle program in my lifetime. We won’t build submarines, great operating systems, or great weaponry. Armenia won’t manufacture the next BMW or Boeing, it won’t build the next LHC, it won’t send the next man to Mars or open space. My kids won’t have opportunities to become pilots flying fifth generation fighter jets, they won’t serve in one of the strongest armies of the world, they will not build the next Microsoft, Google, Oracle, Sun, IBM, Apple, and they will not be enabled to think of ways to disrupt these businesses. Their thrill with groundbreaking researches in biotechnology, genetic engineering and artificial intelligence will be naive. The politicians they vote for will not have the freedom and the power to decide which country to attack in order to keep the oil prices down for them. I will dismiss my kids’ dreams of becoming an astronaut. Hell I will even dismiss my kids’ dreams of becoming a Formula 1 pilot. Their best shot will be aging in peace and dying in relative comfort. They will be able to choose one of the 3.7 available careers, and watch great foreign documentaries about powerful foreign nations’ extraordinary foreign achievements. Achievements that were never enabled for them.

I couldn’t care less about Narekatsi or Komitas at this point. I care about the power we don’t have, about the power we never really had. I care about this power I don’t believe we will ever have.


Água de beber, água de beber camará
Eu sempre tive uma certeza
Que só me deu desilusão
É que o amor é uma tristeza
Muita mágoa demais para um coração

Água de beber, água de beber camará
Eu quis amar mas tive medo
E quis salvar meu coração
Mas o amor sabe um segredo:
O medo pode matar o teu coração

Água de beber, água de beber camará
Eu nunca fiz coisa tão certa
Entrei pra escola do perdão
A minha casa vive aberta
Abre todas as portas meu coração


that’s our way of giving thanks to god
so we are happy because we don’t have sick we are all good
don’t think about that
ok my frend

—Ramil V Villa

I love Gentoo!


It is not easy to be honest about where we’re from. It would be simpler for my mother to portray her success as a straightforward triumph over victimhood, just as it would be simpler to look at Joe Flom and call him the greatest lawyer ever — even though his individual achievements are so impossibly intertwined with his ethnicity, his generation, the particulars of the garment industry, and the peculiar biases of the downtown law firms.

Bill Gates could accept the title of genius, and leave it at that. It takes no small degree of humility for him to look back on his life and say, “I was very lucky.” And he was. The Mothers’ Club of Lakeside Academy bought him a computer in 1968. It is impossible for a hockey player, or Bill Joy, or Robert Oppenheimer, or any other outlier for that matter, to look down from their lofty perch and say with truthfulness, “I did this, all by myself.” Superstar lawyers and math wizzes and software entrepreneurs appear at first blush to lie outside ordinary experience. But they don’t. They are products of history and community, of opportunity and legacy. Their success is not exceptional or mysterious. It is grounded in a web of advantages and inheritances, some deserved, some not, some earned, some just plain lucky — but all critical to making them who they are. The outlier, in the end, is not an outlier at all.

—”Outliers”, Malcolm Gladwell

Bill: Anyhow, they all fell under her Hanzo sword.

Budd: She’s got a Hanzo sword?

Bill: He made one for her.

Budd: Didn’t he swear a blood oath to never make another sword?

Bill: It would appear he has broken it.

Budd: Them Japs sure know how to hold a grudge.


Budd: Or maybe… you just tend to bring that out in people.

craves attention, messy, open, rash, irritable, likes large parties, low self control, weird, fragile, does not like to be alone, emotionally sensitive, worrying, depressed, heart over mind, does not respect authority, dependent, not rule conscious, not good at saving money, more interested in relationships than intellectual pursuits, likes to fit in, very social, frequently second guesses self, phobic, suspicious, not careful, outgoing, vain, compassionate, aggressive, likes to make fun, hates to lose

It Might As Well Be Spring

The things I used to like, I don’t like any more,
I want a lot of other things I’ve never had before,
It’s just like my mamma says, I sit around and mourn
Pretending that I am so wonderful and knowing I’m adored

I’m as restless as a willow in a windstorm,
I’m as jumpy as a puppet on a string,
I’d say that I had spring fever,
But I know it isn’t spring.

I’m as starry eyed and gravely discontented,
Like a nightingale without a song to sing.
Oh, why should I have spring fever,
When it isn’t even spring? 

I keep wishing I were somewhere else,
Walking down a strange new street,
Hearing words I have never never heard,
From a girl I’ve yet to meet.

I’m as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I’m as giddy as a baby on a swing,
I haven’t seen a crocus or a rosebud,
Or a robin or a bluebird on the wing,
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be, might as well be,
It might as well be spring.

Как это ни печально, мы очень часто даже не задумываемся о том, что наши переживания могут не иметь ничего общего с объектом. Нам не приходит в голову выяснить, что делает его счастливым, чем он живет, каковы его глобальные интересы… Мы впадаем в некоторое состояние, которое мы называем любовью и носимся с ним, стараясь разными способами заставить нашего избранника быть таким, каким он нас устраивает. По большей части — используя чувство вины. Ведь именно так нас учили в детстве, апеллируя к нашей сознательности.

ինչ որ բաներ պետք ա լրիվ փոխել
բայց չգիտեմ թե ինչ
ամեն ինչ ոնց որ անիմաստ ա
ամեն ինչ դառել ա անիմաստ
գործն էլ տհաճ ա
գործ անելու հավես չկա, ու մտահղացումներ էլ չկան
մենակ խաղ խաղալու հավես կա, դրանից հետո էլ ահավոր անբավարարվածության զգացում
ոչ մեկին այլևս չեմ կարող սիրել
լրիվ արժեզրկվել ա ողջ սերը
իսկ երբ էդ չկա, ամեն ինչի շարժառիթը կորում ա, ամեն ինչ դառնում ա անիմաստ
փող չկա, ուզածս մոտոն չեմ կարող առնել…. ուզածս ձևով չեմ կարող գնալ իմ ճանապարհորդությունը
հոգնեցուցիչ ա
ես ուզում եմ 25 տարեկանում Դուկատի Մոնստր քշել, չեմ ուզում 50 տարեկանում քշել… ախր դա 50 տարեկանի մոտո չի
ես ընդհանրապես չեմ ուզում հնարավորություններ
լսի ես մարդ եմ
ես չեմ ուզում լինել սիստեմի մեջ
զգայուն, իսկական կենդանի մարդ
ես չեմ ուզում ստիպված ժպտալ, չեմ ուզում ստիպված բաներ անել
ես հո գազանանոցում չեմ!!!!
հասկանում ես՞
ես չեմ ուզում լինել գազանանոցում
ես ուզում եմ լինել հանգիստ, լինել ազատ
ես չեմ ուզում ամսի 10ին գնալ գործի
չէ որ 10ը ընդամենը հաստատուն թիվ ա
չեմ ուզում ստիպված լինել
կամ որ դու ստիպված լինես
ես ստիպված եմ Դուկատի չքշել
ստիպված եմ ստանալ հազարյուր դոլար
ստիպված եմ ամեն օր խոսել Ջեսիկայի հետ – ես արդեն զզվում եմ իրանից!
ես ուզում եմ ինձ մեղավոր չզգալ
իմ վրա ազդում ա էդ անասուն զգացմունքը
միշտ ինձ զգում եմ մեղավոր, մեղավոր, մեղավոր………..
էս աշխարհը մեզ բոլորիս տենց ա անում հասկանում ես՞
դու մեղավոր ես քեզ զգում որ X6 չես քշում
ես մեղավոր եմ զգում որ Նարինեն գնացել ա
հոպարը մեղավոր ա զգում որ չի ամուսնացել… բայց ինչու՞՞՞
ինչո՞ւ ոչ մի կենդանի մեղքի զգացում չունի
օրինակ մոծակը մեղավոր չի զգում իրան երբ կծում ա մեկին, ես համոզված եմ
մեզ էնքան են սրսկում էդ մեղքի զգացումը
որ մենք մեզ դնում ենք վանդակի մեջ
ու իմ վանդակի մեջ ես այլևս չեմ կարող ինձ թույլ տալ Սինոփսիսից դուրս գալ
մենք սարքել ենք պատասխանատվության կուլտ
պաշտում ենք պատասխանատվությունը
մենք չենք մտածում որ մենք մարդիկ ենք ոչ թե ուրիշինը
որ պետք ա ապրել, շնչել, ցնծալ
մտածել քամու մասին
միգուցե օրերով ապրել քամիով
միգուցե գրել ծրագրեր
ոչ որովհետև քեզ ՍՊԱՍՈւՄ ԵՆ
ԱՐԱԳԱՑՐՈւՈւՈւՈւՈւՈւՈւ սպասում են քեզ!!!!!!
դու պատասխանատու ես! դու կարևոր ես!
արա դա որ քեզ թույլ տան Դուկատի ունենալ
թե չէ դու կհայտնվես ամենավերջում!
ժպտա Րաֆֆիին!!
ժպտա ժպտա ժպտա!!!
ինքը կարող ա քեզ մի օր գործ տա
ինքը կարող ա քեզ մի օր ավտոյի տակ չքցի
ժպտա որ մի որ Դուկատի ունենաս
որ մի որ մենք քեզ թույլ տանք
որ դու ապրես քամիով
ու երբեք երբեք ոչ ինձ ոչ որևէ մեկին
դա թույլ չեն տալու
մենք մի օր կմեռնենք
թե ես, թե դու, թե Րաֆֆին
ամեն մեկը մի ձևով
մեկն ինֆարկտ
մեկը մեքենայի տակ կընկնի
մեկի պարաշյուտը չի բացվի
ու ՎԱՅ՞՞՞՞՞՞ այլևս չկանք մենք
ու նույնիսկ էդ պահին
մենք լաց չենք լինի որ քամիները չնկատեցինք
մենք կափսոսանք որ նախագիծը չավարտեցինք
որ մեզ սպասում են………
ինչ զզվելի ա դա
ես չեմ ուզում ինձ սպասեն, չեմ ուզում ինձ հյուրասիրեն Դուկատի
չեմ ուզում ինձ թույլ տան գնալ արձակուրդ……….
ինչ որ մեկը
ով ինձնից խելոք ա
ու ինձնից առողջ
ինչ որ մեկն ում անունը Ռիչ Գոլդման ա
Հարուստ Ոսկեմարդ՜
ով ես դու արա այ տղա, որ ինձ թույլ չտաս ես Դուկատի ունենամ!!!!!
ինչու պետք ա ես ինձ մեղավոր զգամ երբ ուշ եմ արթնանում…
չէ որ ես մարդ եմ
չէ որ ես արթնացել եմ երբ աչքերս ուզել են բացվել
ես զգում եմ որ երբեք ոչնչի չեմ հասնելու
որ ես սպասելու եմ թոշակիս, ամեն ամիս
որ չեմ ամուսնանալու, որովհետև անիմաստ ա……..
կարելի ա արդեն իսկ մեռնել
վերջին 70 տարին առանձնապես բան չի փոխում
ես ինձ ճնշված եմ զգում
ես զզվում եմ պատասխանատվությունից
բայց է՛լ ավելի շատ ես զզվում եմ
որ բոլորը պաշտում են պատասխանատվությունը!!!!!!!
ես չեմ ուզում ժպտալ, չեմ ուզում պլանավորել, չեմ ուզում հաշվել
ախր ես մարդ եմ
չեմ ուզում խաբել
բայց ես ամեն օր բոլորին խաբում եմ
ու ինձ ամեն օր բոլորը խաբում են
անընդհատ ուզում եմ գոռալ բոլորի վրա – ԽԱԲՈւՄ ԵՍ ԻՆՁ!!!!!! ՄԻ ԽԱԲԻ!!!!!!!!!
դու թքած ունես իմ վրա!!!!!!
ինձ խաբում են խանութում
խաբում են իմ ընկերները
իմ աշխատակիցները
անծանոթ մարդիկ, փողոցում
խաբում են երբ բերնիս չեն բոքսում
խաբում են երբ չեն համբուրվում հետս
խաբում են երբ համբուրվում են…


Be the change you wish to see in the world.

—Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

Now don’t worry my man, you found it… You’re on the right way.. you’re on the right way!

—Old man in San Francisco municipal train

A neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. She doesn’t feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most neutrality is a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil. After all, she would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, she’s not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way. Some neutral characters, on the other hand, commit themselves philosophically to neutrality. They see good, evil, law, and chaos as prejudices and dangerous extremes. They advocate the middle way of neutrality as the best, most balanced road in the long run. The common phrase for neutral is “true neutral.” Neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you act naturally, without prejudice or compulsion.

—Player’s Handbook, Chapter 6

Երբ կգա երեկոն, դու նոր կզգաս թե ինչպես է հոգնել մարմինդ, սառչել է միտքդ ու անապատացել մաշկդ։ Սակայն կիմանաս, որ միտքդ չէ քեզ շարժում, այլ սիրտդ, ու Ալլահին հիշեցնում որ դու կաս, քանի դեռ կա քո ճանապարհը:

Excerpt from Pulp Fiction

JULES: I don’t wanna hear about no motherfuckin’ “ifs.” What I wanna hear from your ass is: “you ain’t got no problems, Jules. I’m on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for the cavalry, which should be comin’ directly.”

MARSELLUS: You ain’t got no problems, Jules. I’m on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggers out and wait for The Wolf, who should be comin’ directly.

JULES: You sendin’ The Wolf?

MARSELLUS: Feel better?

JULES: Shit Negro, that’s all you had to say!

Вы встречаете людей, которые преображают вашу жизнь, сами того не зная, а потом спокойненько предают вас, и вы видите, как они объединяются с вашими врагами, а потом смотрите, как они удаляются, точно армия победителей, разграбившая город, на фоне развалин и багрового заката.

—Фредерик Бегбедер, “99 Франков”

I don’t do dreams. I do plans.


I’m done doing what I swore an oath to God 28 years ago to never do again. I’ve created, “something that kills people.” And in that purpose I was a success.

I’ve done this, because philosophically I’m sympathetic to your aim.

I can tell you with no ego, this is my finest sword. If on your journey, you should encounter God, God will be cut.

Revenge is never a straight line. It’s a forest. And like a forest it’s easy to lose your way… to get lost… to forget where you came in. To serve as a compass, a combat philosophy must be adopted that can be found in the secret doctrine of the Yagu Ninja. And now my yellow haired warrior, repeat after me;

When engaged in combat, the vanquishing of thine enemy can be the warrior’s only concern…

…This is the first and cardinal rule of combat…

…Suppress all human emotion and compassion…

…Kill whoever stands in thy way, even if that be Lord God, or Buddha himself…

This truth lies at the heart of the art of combat. Once it is mastered… Thou shall fear no one… Though the devil himself may bar thy way…

SCHLAGETER: Good old Fritz! (Laughing.) No paradise will entice you out of your barbed wire entanglement!

THIEMANN: That’s for damned sure! Barbed wire is barbed wire! I know what I’m up against…. No rose without a thorn!… And the last thing I’ll stand for is ideas to get the better of me! I know that rubbish from ‘18…, fraternity, equality, …, freedom…, beauty and dignity! You gotta use the right bait to hook ‘em. And then, you’re right in the middle of a parley and they say: Hands up! You’re disarmed…, you republican voting swine! — No, let ‘em keep their good distance with their whole ideological kettle of fish…. I shoot with live ammunition! When I hear the word culture…, I release the safety on my Browning!

SCHLAGETER: What a thing to say!

THIEMANN: It hits the mark! You can be sure of that.

SCHLAGETER: You’ve got a hair trigger.

And if thee gaze for long into the source code, the source code also gazes into thee.


Looking for a place to rent!!

Looking for a 1-room apartment for renting long-term. Could pay months in advance. Must be well-made, well-furnished and small. sssilver at gmail!

Փնտրում եմ 1 սենյականոց բնակարան վարձով, երկարաժամկետ: Կարող եմ վճարել մի քանի ամիս կանխավճար: Անհրաժեշտ է գերազանց վերանորոգված, գերազանց կահավորված և փոքր բնակարան: sssilver at gmail!

“I love that I’m a dream girl for geeks. Nerdy guys are always the cool ones in the end.”

The Month Rule or How to Quit (Biting Your Fingers)

Learning to quit biting your fingers or nails is possible. I did it.

I have been biting mine since I was 11. I was biting them violently, till blood, till there was simply nothing left to rip off neither with teeth nor with any other slicer. My fingers looked disgusting. I tried hiding them when talking to people that mattered and bit them even more violently when I had a stressful situation.

Sometimes, in the moments of strength and inspiration I wanted to try quitting my habit. Some of these times I actually tried. I failed miserably. No, biting fingers was not just about a habit. It felt damn good. It was not an unconscious self control issue. I realized I was addicted. This may sound weird to someone who doesn’t do it, but to a hooked person this does sound so painfully right! I did it because I loved doing it, and not because I didn’t realize.

I checked the Internet. Some sources said it was a syndrome of some sort. Some said it was the lack of vitamins. Some suggested it was psychological. None of these seemed really right.

Then once I had a moment of serious weakness. I bit my fingers so violently I thought I was going to cause a permanent serious damage to them. And I decided to quit. Just like that, without trying. And then it just occurred to me…

Starting something when you are weak, discouraged and lack every inspiration is so much stronger than starting it when you are ‘in a good shape’!! My plan was very simple: I wasn’t going to bite any of my fingers, not even once, not even if I wanted it to death (you’d be surprised to find out that not biting it doesn’t actually kill you!).

Warrant Officer Candidate Jarema Majkut finds that “it takes a lot more skill to fly a helicopter” than other aircraft. “Basically, an airplane wants to fly,” he says, “and a helicopter wants to crash.”

I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.

—Michael Jordan

Arnold Schwarzenegger

For boys who were always men.

From the words of Sir Philip Sidney

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one for the other giv’n.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a better bargain driv’n.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his, because in me it bides.
His heart his wound received from my sight:
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me, on him his hurt did light,
So still me thought in me his hurt did smart:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss:
My true love hath my heart and I have his.

Sometimes when you lose, you win.

Per Aspera Ad Astra

Please Don't Leave Me

Da da da da, da da da da
Da da da da-da da

I don’t know if I can yell any louder
How many time I’ve kicked you outta here?
Or said something insulting?
da da da da-da

I can be so mean when I wanna be
I am capable of really anything
I can cut you into pieces
But my heart is….broken

Da da da-da da
Please don’t leave me
Please don’t leave me
I always say how I don’t need you
But it’s always gonna come right back to this
Please, don’t leave me

How did I become so obnoxious?
What is it with you that makes me act like this?
I’ve never been this nasty
Can’t you tell that this is all just a contest?
The one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest
But baby I don’t mean it
I mean it, I promise

Da da da-da da
Please don’t leave me
Da da da-da da
Please don’t leave me
Da da da-da da
I always say how I don’t need you
But it’s always gonna come right back to this
Please, don’t leave me

I forgot to say out loud how beautiful you really are to me
I can’t be without, you’re my perfect little punching bag
And I need you, I’m sorry.

Da da da da, da da da da
da da da da-da da
Please, please don’t leave me

Baby please don’t leave me
No, don’t leave me
Please don’t leave me no no no
You say I don’t need you but it’s always gonna come right back,
It’s gonna come right back to this.
Please, don’t leave me.
No, don’t leave me
Please don’t leave me, oh no no no.
I always say how I don’t need you
But it’s always gonna come right back to this

Please don’t leave me
Please don’t leave me

Love is gonna save us

Stones and flowers on the ground
We are lost and found
but love is gonna save us

Shadows walking in the crowd
we are lost and found
but love is gonna save us

Simplify our love

Rocket in the Sky

Hey boy, Hey boy

Hey boy
When we first met
On the 31st
And it was Halloween
You know what I mean

And I was the one dressed up
as a rocket
that night
Please, please
Don’t ask me why

Hey boy, Hey boy

If you came over me
And said: Tell me
if you’re alone tonight
can I be by your side?”
Hey baby, ain’t we having fun Tonight
Little rocket in the sky
Little rocket in the sky
Tell me

Was a rocket in the sky
I’m a rocket in the sky

Baby baby
Ain’t we having fun tonight
I’ll be by your side
I’ll be by your side

Baby baby
I’ve been there all
Year long
Standing by the telephone
The telephone

Hey baby
If you care for me
Why don’t you call
And give me some dignity
Some decency
Rocket in disguise 
Rocket in disguise
Don’t ask me why
Don’t ask me why

I’m a rocket in disguise
Don’t ask me why
I’m a rocket in disguise
Don’t ask me why

Tell me
I’m a rocket in disguise 
Hey boy, Hey boy, Hey boy