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Tue, Oct 27, 2015
Every so often, I get sick of basically everything. Walls become suffocating, routine is insufferable, and the city I live in wraps itself against the sky like a cage. So inevitably I duck away and find something to chase (warm faces, the light in autumn, half-formed schemes, etc.), run until I’m dizzy and lost and can’t remember whose couch I’m waking up on or why I crashed there. Weeks later, the sky bruises into swollen dusk, some familiar voice yells for me to come home so I run back into my bed once again, wondering if home is this place more than it is the feeling of staring at an unfamiliar timetable and noticing your heartbeat quicken.


Mon, Jul 21, 2014
4 years ago, I went to HOPE for the first time on a last-minute press pass from my college newspaper. Some relevant facts about the trip: I was 19 and had never been to a hacker con before. I didn’t identify as a hacker (or an activist). I was too shy to talk to anyone the entire time. Combined with the fact that I knew only a few people there, I was mostly off by myself.

the other blog post i was going to write

Thu, Jun 12, 2014
It’s always unnerving to realize that your happiness is highly correlated with some particular event, object, person, substance, or thought pattern. Various components of pop culture have led us to believe that happiness is {a warm gun | two kinds of ice cream | high serotonin levels | coca-cola} and so forth, but nobody ever says that happiness is a volatile multidimensional product of quickly-fluctuating vectors along a dozen axes.

Memphis Haiku Collection

Sat, Oct 12, 2013
Tonight I found a collection of stupendously precocious (lolol) poems I wrote on a trip to Memphis at age 13. Here they are, untouched, in all their prematurely cynical glory: I’m going to Hell I mean Memphis, in two hours Do not raid my house. If I don’t return Do not mope like Charlie Brown You’re not in my will. I gave my pet bird To some short college student

On artificially-bounded futures

Tue, Oct 1, 2013
I flew back to MIT recently for the GNU 30th Anniversary Celebration and Hackathon, thanks to a generous travel scholarship from the Free Software Foundation. All I had to do was never, ever run any proprietary javascript in my browser and something something something about firstborns. Seemed like a net win. The hackathon itself was fun. I spent most of it teaching people about privacy-enhancing tools like GnuPG and realizing that privacy-enhancing tools are intimidating, even to MIT computer science PhD students.

Qu’est-ce que le Fuck?

Sat, Jul 20, 2013
This morning, I found myself running down the middle of an empty highway in rural France at 5 AM. A litany of WTF’s rang through my head. The sun rose, gently, turning attention to row upon row of freshly-cut crops stretching exorbitantly toward the horizon. Beyond softly rolling hills in the distance, there was the faint quilted pattern of a tiny village, cows and baguettes and all. Except for the thin ribbon of a two-lane highway, it was vague what century this place haunted.

Marfa, TX

Mon, Jun 10, 2013
Large American cities breed complacency. We grow up in the suburbs, we move to the cities after college, we get jobs and buy apartments and curate routines. We find comfort in the monoculture of coffeeshops, the ubiquity of free wifi and indie periodicals. College students flip through biology textbooks, their thumbs skimming over blue-framed iPhone screens. The small town of Marfa, Texas subverts urban complacency. The streets are hot, desolate, effortlessly dusty.

Goodbye, Cambridge!

Thu, May 30, 2013
Tonight, if I’m lucky, I’ll sleep on this soft green velvet couch where I spent 80% of my junior year of undergrad proving the existence of dark matter, determining the electron charge, reading papers on adiabatic quantum computation, and overfitting most things that I encountered. If I’m unlucky, I’ll stay up the whole night and hack away at some Python scripts testing a hypothesis I have about bitsquatting, or maybe I’ll jailbreak my new Kindle, but probably I’ll find myself brewing a kettle of tea and nostalgically gazing at the rain falling on the porch where I used to sit and read books in summer.

I <3 Austin!

Thu, May 30, 2013
Vegan food everywhere! Taco bars with speedy wifi! Fresca margaritas! This is the American Dream INCARNATE. Tomorrow I shall go explore the city and die of heat stroke.

40 minutes in NYC

Sat, Nov 24, 2012
40 minutes in Tribeca on the way from Newtown to Boston is all we have before the parking meter runs out so I transcribe the light of the setting sun in shorthand (a cricket clutter of shutter clicks) while you look for a bathroom. the sun is running out like a roll of toilet paper waning into weary ribbons as it soars toward heaven, forgetful of the symmetries of the parabola,

composed in SFO airport while waiting for the redeye back to Boston

Mon, Apr 9, 2012
so I don’t know whether to turn around at your doorway so hesitation drips the milk from sore eyes so I scratch the walls so I peel flakes of plaster tumble like dead moths erode my fingernails which have grown long and desperate like homeless shadows before the sun rises we dimple red sheets under hard white ceilings limbs curled into smiles and then we are chasing each other canyons underfoot