Mottoes

An entrepreneur says “nothing ventured, nothing gained.” A bureaucrat says “Nothing ventured, nothing lost.”

Which are you? What risks are you willing to take, and what risks are you not willing to take?

It is said that happy children, beause they are optimistic about their abilities and the risks that they take, climb too high in trees, swim out too far, run too soon into streets, and therefore die more often than the scared and unhappy little ones, who tend to stay at home hiding under the blankets crying.

Which child were you, and which child would you like to have been? As an adult, do you overestimate your capabilities, and does that get you into similar, if not as life-threatening, trouble?

Winning Argument

Brilliant new blog: Winning Argument. It’s like a cocktail-party political cheat sheet, or maybe a set of talking points for reasonable people. Each day they explain, in simple terms that you can remember and discuss with others, why we’re being ruled by, as Brad DeLong says, “these imbeciles,” or as I would say, fucktard wing-nuts. It reminds me, for some reason, of D-Squared’s challenge to the general world: show me one thing those nutscrapes have done right.

Aesthetic

The skater/slacker aesthetic relies on appropriation of blue-collar trappings, but it can go too far: on the way to work today I saw a skinny skater boy in paint-spattered workpants, cut off at the knee, and an oversized work shirt like those worn by contractors, gas-station attendants, and their emulators. He was carrying a fold-up toolkit and a 10-gallon bucket of tools. And riding a skateboard. And stuff kept falling out of the bucket.

Other strangeness: race bicycle, clipless pedals and shoes, messenger bag, and sundress.

Shopping for Things I Don’t Even Want

This weekend I met a guy as involved in motorcycles as I am. Which is to say, when he has a free moment, he browses Craigslist and EBay Motors to drool over the listings. He doesn’t have a motorcycle license, and isn’t going to buy one any time soon. I have a perfectly serviceable scooter, and nowhere to store a larger bike, but dammit, I like looking at them fancy new bikes. In fact, I like looking at the new ones better than I would like having one. I know if I had one I’d grow tired of it, but the longing is sweet.

His wife grew tired of the motorcycle talk, but later admitted to similarly compulsive, aimless browsing on PetFinder. They have nowhere to put a dog, no time for walking a dog, but dammit, she loves looking at new puppies up for adoption. They just bought a house, but they also still look at real estate listings. And so do I, even though I don’t have the time, money, or inclination to buy a home right now.

I guess it’s sort of like looking at pretty girls go by even though I’m strictly on the one-to-one– it’s pretty much just pleasant and harmless. But in the same way, it annoys and disturbs me. You don’t really want that, you know it’s foolish and impractical and she’s probably a horrible person with bad gas mileage and much higher insurance premiums, what with that huge, shiny engine and those long legs, and who’s got eighty grand for a down payment these days anyway? Shouldn’t I be doing something better with my time than aspirational window-shopping? When did I become this bourgeois freak? I could be changing the world, creating art, taking a nap, picking lint out of my navel, any of a million more productive and useful things. Instead I’m shopping for things I don’t want.

Words, words, words…

Snivelling waste of space, so self-conscious you can’t stand still and be inconspicuous, wishing you could, wishing you could be the center of attention like your rivals, wishing you could be vivacious and bubbly and silly and fun like the rest of them, you stupid shit, why do you care, it’s not like it matters, except to you, painfully, in the pit of your stomach, you feel sick all the time, why do you take it so seriously, have you ever laughed in your entire life?