tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46404704434201648632024-03-19T04:47:54.673-04:00Jim Leff's SlogA Slow Child Breaking ThroughJim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.comBlogger3187125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-30771765597481046112024-03-18T16:23:00.005-04:002024-03-18T17:13:49.808-04:00ChatGPT Shrewdly Criticizes My WritingI've been having the wildest conversations with ChatGPT. Creative approaches yield surprising and valuable results. I may publish the entirety, but am never sure what people might find interesting - and what just happens to delight my unique kooky preoccupations. But the latest must be shared. It is gasp-inducing.<br><br>
I fed it some of my best writing (the aphorisms <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2014/04/uncommon-terseness.html">here</a>), and asked for an assessment. ChatGPT usually digs my style of connection-making - it appreciates metaphors and savors the sort of goofy leaps that are my shtick.
<blockquote>If this sounds anthropomorphic, it's not. An AI has no emotions, but it assesses constantly. Without finely-tuned assessment, it would be paralyzed trying to decide which information from its vast corpus to make use of in its responses, how to shade language, etc. Asked to judge a thought or passage for insight, creativity, and interestingness, it will offer surprisingly shrewd assessment.
</blockquote>
I confirmed, by the way, that it's neither programmed nor inclined to flatter the inquirer (as <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2024/02/meta-prompting-ai.html">I wrote last week</a>, the really wonderful thing about AI is that it will work with you to figure out the best ways to make use of it and avoid its shortcomings). But, just to be sure, I didn't initially tell it that I was the writer.<br><br>
I asked for a high-level assessment:
<blockquote>The writing touches on a wide variety of themes, from human ambition and misconceptions about causality, to societal synergy and historical perspective.<br><br>
The writing encourages contemplation and challenge common narratives in an intriguing, creative manner. The language is vivid, and the observations sharp.
</blockquote>
Nice (even aside from the praise), though hardly gulp inducing. But then I asked this:
<blockquote>Now let's hear absolutely every criticism you can possibly produce. You said above that you have no intention of flattery, so I confess that I wrote it, and I welcome your unrestrained thoughts
</blockquote>
...and got the following reply:
<blockquote><b>Clarity</b>: While the abstract and metaphorical nature of your writing can be engaging, it might sometimes lead to obscurity or confusion. Ensuring that the metaphors and the points you're making align logically and clearly can help in better conveying your thoughts.<br><br>
<b>Length</b>: Epigrams are traditionally short and punchy. Some of your longer epigrams may lose some of the impact due to their length and could potentially be condensed for greater effect.<br><br>
<b>Consistency in Tone</b>: While varying your tone brings dynamism to your work, sudden shifts can be jarring. For instance, starting with a reflective tone and ending with a humorous observation may leave readers unsure about your intended message.<br><br>
<b>Over-Reliance on Metaphor</b>: There are instances where reliance on metaphorical language, though enriching the text, might distract from the core message you're conveying. For example, in "Greatness is nonlinear...," while the point of the epigram is clear, the numerical quantifications might detract from the overall point about the exponential disproportion.<br><br>
<b>Specificity</b>: Some of the epigrams would benefit from being more specific. Addressing very specific behavior without additional context makes it harder for the reader to relate.<br><br>
<b>Assumption of Prior Knowledge</b>: In a few cases, you seem to assume a degree of prior knowledge in your readers. While this can work for some, it may alienate readers who are unfamiliar with the references you're making.</blockquote>
I honestly don't think it could have done better. That's just sterling.<br><br>
One last thing. I referred to the writing I'd shared (once again, from <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2014/04/uncommon-terseness.html">here</a>) as "aphorisms". The AI suggested "epigrams". As a professional writer, that's a pretty high level note.<br><br>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-29552835520583448122024-03-17T01:30:00.023-04:002024-03-17T08:12:10.839-04:00Self-Healing and The Visualization FallacyA few years ago, I sat down to write about an interesting fallacy which I suspected had previously gone unnoticed. I dubbed it <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-visualization-fallacy.html">The Visualization Fallacy</a>, and here's the gist:
<blockquote>
We visualize concepts, and then we falsely associate the made-up visualization with the concept (usually with the help of movies and TV).<br><br>
For instance, aliens travel in saucer-shaped ships, right? If you ever spot a saucer flying around at night in the desert, you'd certainly know how to explain it. That's an alien! We "know" this from movies and TV. Some random visualization caught on, creating a false consensus that's utterly non-meaningful.<br><br>
Alien visitors may or may not be real, but the flying saucer trope almost certainly isn't. We couldn't begin to imagine alien tech, yet most people feel they could identify an alien spaceship because they've been conditioned by some random visualization. It's a form of tail-wagging.<br><br>
If you walk around an old, dark house at night and encounter a hovering gauzy white presence, your brain will likely tell you - based on movies and TV - that this may be a ghost. Yet, for all you or I know, disembodied spirits look like manicotti, and are delicious, and we've been eating them for years.<br><br>
When abstract concepts (or concrete concepts with no observable examples) become visualized, we easily become tied to that visualization.
</blockquote>
If a believer met Jesus, and he looked like Jeff Goldblum rather than the normal bearded beatific type, they'd just keep walking. Because they know what Jesus looks like...even though they obviously totally don't (and even though Jeff Goldblum almost surely bears more resemblance than the gentile hippies we've senselessly come to expect).<br><br>
The article ignited as I wrote it, which happens sometimes, transforming into something very different and infinitely more interesting: a fresh explanation of the underlying nature of reality, offering a completely original (and persuasive!) cosmology. It was a fluke win that baffles and chills me to this day. <br><br>
But returning to the humble fallacy that gave rise to all that, I just connected it to a long-standing mystery of mine.<br><br>
I have a gift for self-healing. And I've previously noted that my hacks are always crazily simple and juvenile. As I wrote in <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2024/01/self-healing-itches.html">the latest</a> of a series of installments detailing my discoveries,
<blockquote>
The answer is never "Travel to Indonesia and hear the mating call of the Javanese lapwing at sunrise while sipping kumquat juice". It's always vanishingly small. If I were selling these fixes, I'd probably add extra steps just to persuade people it's serious. No one wants to fix health problems with solutions seemingly thought up by a seven year-old.
</blockquote>
My fix for itches (at that same URL) is juvenile. Same for <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/07/self-healing-is-move-you-dont-want-to-do.html">my cure for tendinitis</a>. And for <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2017/12/grief-survival-kit.html">grief</a>. And for <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/10/self-healing-muscle-cramps.html">muscle cramps</a>. And for <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/07/self-healing-panic-attacks.html">panic attacks</a>. And for <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/07/self-healing-hiccups.html">hiccups</a>. Etc.<BR><BR>
You'd think people would try them, since none are risky, involved, or expensive. There's nothing to lose, yet no one ever wants to give them a go, because....well, I never understood why not. Until now.<br><br>
They don't seem like the sort of measures people are expecting. Imagining. <b><i>Visualizing</i></b>. <br><br>
There's some vague mental image of what a fix will amount to, even though, obviously, no one has the slightest idea. But we feel that we've got some handle on it. Hey, we've all seen aspirin and acupuncture needles and hyperbaric chambers and neck braces and MRI machines. We have some high level handle on what's involved in addressing health maladies!
<BR><BR>But no, we don’t. Any normal-seeming solutions would have been discovered long ago. With millions desperate scrambling for relief from these incurable conditions, likely fixes have all been exhaustively tried (e.g. you can't fix the carpal tunnel in your wrist by stretching it because millions of sufferers have tried every imaginable stretch ad infinitum - and ice, and heat, and acupuncture, etc.). A fix that really fixes must, inescapably, be surprising.<BR><BR>
But surprising cures don’t jibe with the innate sense of what a cure would be like.<BR><BR>
The Visualization Fallacy!<BR><BR><BR>
Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-49751087949111637642024-03-16T07:54:00.013-04:002024-03-16T07:58:17.041-04:00Goethe Dancing Around 'Framing'<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmBAeIY5svPKj365PdKmuvcQOsUZ6adMic-U5KVMsWYI6mHw3Z20biRnhpbyXX4DM3rnAt2fAKiA3usFsR1h4cqS4PQCGFKekhcRkMy-zH7uEK8BiTjcZ5p-jOoBC6nMpEsZfrJ4jzAM0D3x0cdmM-bDwEZYYDh2-5YW0t8FGqHhitOn6-3phnm9luieg/s1170/IMG_6758.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmBAeIY5svPKj365PdKmuvcQOsUZ6adMic-U5KVMsWYI6mHw3Z20biRnhpbyXX4DM3rnAt2fAKiA3usFsR1h4cqS4PQCGFKekhcRkMy-zH7uEK8BiTjcZ5p-jOoBC6nMpEsZfrJ4jzAM0D3x0cdmM-bDwEZYYDh2-5YW0t8FGqHhitOn6-3phnm9luieg/s600/IMG_6758.jpeg"/></a></div>
"Heart" is vague and poetic. It's one of several terms we use to refer to the part of us that's intimately familiar yet intangible. We reference it only indirectly. Metaphorically. Always a rhetorical bank shot. It's the <b><i>y'know</i></b>.<BR><BR>
The phrase "familiar yet intangible" might have triggered some deja vu, because <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2024/02/the-experiencer.html">I recently wrote</a>:
<blockquote>The experiencer can't be a thing.<BR>
But the experiencer is not eerie.<BR>
No distant spiritual gaseous cloud or supernatural entity.<BR>
It's what you are - right now, right here - and have always been,<BR>
even if you can't possibly point to it.<BR>
Anything you can point at is a thing.<BR>
And things can't experience!
</blockquote>
The Experiencer (i.e. the pure subjectivity you are) projects - and then pretends to observe - "reality" via shifts of perspective (aka "framing"). This is not only metaphorically true; it's quite literally true. See <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-visualization-fallacy.html">this series</a>, especially the part about the piano smash. It's a challenge to get through, but I'm pretty sure I nailed it (don't ask me how).<BR><BR>
<i>Also see my <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2020/11/the-term-soul-was-invented-by-poseurs.html">definition of "soul"</a>.</i><BR><BR><BR>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a><BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-23763187209941924462024-03-15T15:39:00.007-04:002024-03-15T15:42:06.348-04:00Casting The GodfatherHere's the original casting ideas sheet for The Godfather:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCHO2mdovAhJbtFtCXdNinlvyYO3Cfn9Pf3rdZi5KlZBUSggRJ5EvKgJoHnGXcJB9qXS9mcaotSddm4PKBeu7Nu7flC_wi0P2PzeNFpdmlmMfYTXTWQQ7MV22hHK_omdNHfgAC6BPrl23_UadSdX3h4FGvQdOml6WYkQoHks_ukVVKowl8KfNugA8uEA/s1766/IMG_6751.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1766" data-original-width="1170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCHO2mdovAhJbtFtCXdNinlvyYO3Cfn9Pf3rdZi5KlZBUSggRJ5EvKgJoHnGXcJB9qXS9mcaotSddm4PKBeu7Nu7flC_wi0P2PzeNFpdmlmMfYTXTWQQ7MV22hHK_omdNHfgAC6BPrl23_UadSdX3h4FGvQdOml6WYkQoHks_ukVVKowl8KfNugA8uEA/s600/IMG_6751.jpeg"/></a></div> <BR><BR>
Every film fan knows that Paramount wanted Sir Laurence Olivier to play Vito Corleone. But I never heard that Frank de Kova was also up for the role. If the name seems familiar, it's because he played Chief Wild Eagle on F Troop. <BR><BR>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxGuQjmwLntv4Fy8mZKWiKCFuJZZkjzucY66ixajwQQWI4Bfxuz6JXALe_zrqfkOMjxh7iid0avQ9_eIgeqgv0PXLRRz0zVDIHUjoHOmeV58WpZLqi6aeZ7rLvD_KTolf9CKhIuQsGZELjHG_T4UwpJ0pgsPl-JtMSoZHO6fSJ8pDrD4PFBR5w86a5YA/s300/Frank_Dekova.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxGuQjmwLntv4Fy8mZKWiKCFuJZZkjzucY66ixajwQQWI4Bfxuz6JXALe_zrqfkOMjxh7iid0avQ9_eIgeqgv0PXLRRz0zVDIHUjoHOmeV58WpZLqi6aeZ7rLvD_KTolf9CKhIuQsGZELjHG_T4UwpJ0pgsPl-JtMSoZHO6fSJ8pDrD4PFBR5w86a5YA/s600/Frank_Dekova.jpg"/></a></div>
It makes me ponder an alternative history where Frank got the gig, while Brando, his career foundering, wound up on F Troop. Would we still have iPhones?<BR><BR><BR>
<i>According to <a href="https://twitter.com/ATRightMovies/status/1768593579004363252">this Twitter thread</a>, Paramount pushed hard to set the film in 1972 Kansas, rather than 1940 New York. <BR><BR>
Please, the next time you hear an artist or creative person described as "tempermental", remember what we're up against. <BR><BR>
</i>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-20363758700181127802024-03-15T12:15:00.009-04:002024-03-15T14:10:55.859-04:00The Internet's Infrastructure<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7t-c_-0t8oyyUodrDi_13i_RImxJksdHizXLp4EL8-pwO8ZSBdO5oPU0tTABzomfVJtoNw49tacHmiAsQsWHkFw-ZDuqsxq5FznZ5tgniuSdzIIkUvUrjumse5g8EkTPagOBiEh0u-F3jOecHuVMO7aqp04jd-E9LgtUCeVFEjluWGNU5Xk4oo3uYFI/s1500/8164KwxqASL._SL1500_.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="998" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7t-c_-0t8oyyUodrDi_13i_RImxJksdHizXLp4EL8-pwO8ZSBdO5oPU0tTABzomfVJtoNw49tacHmiAsQsWHkFw-ZDuqsxq5FznZ5tgniuSdzIIkUvUrjumse5g8EkTPagOBiEh0u-F3jOecHuVMO7aqp04jd-E9LgtUCeVFEjluWGNU5Xk4oo3uYFI/s400/8164KwxqASL._SL1500_.jpg"/></a></div>
Kindle price just dropped to $2.99 on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0763L4SJP">the Kindle version of "Tubes: A Journey to the Center of the Internet"</a>.<BR><BR>
Review from Scientific American:
<blockquote>In 2006 Alaskan senator Ted Stevens described the Internet as a “series of tubes,” a quip that earned the octogenarian widespread mockery. But as Blum notes in his charming look at the physical infrastructure that underlies the Web, Stevens wasn’t all that wrong. Bits sail through a worldwide network of fiber-optic cables and come together in junctions where Internet providers connect their pipes to the networks of others. Blum’s transcontinental journey exposes some of the important issues confronting the Internet, such as the occasional disconnect between the interests of the corporations who control the physical pipes and the good of the network as a whole. “If you believe the Internet is magic,” he writes, “then it’s hard to grasp its physical reality.” I’d turn this around: only by understanding the physical richness of the Internet can we truly grok the thorny forces that are shaping its growth. — Michael Moyer
</blockquote>
If this is your type of thing, you'll love sci-fi legend Neal Stephenson's epic book-length (42000 words!) <a href="https://www.wired.com/1996/12/ffglass">look at how transatlantic cable gets laid</a> from Wired Magazine circa 1996.<BR><BR><BR>
<i>Here's the middle ground I've staked out with my book collecting obsession (which combines poorly with the fact that I read as slowly as a second grader): when I hear about a great book, I add it to my queue at <a href="https://www.ereaderiq.com">eReaderIQ</a>, which notifies me when the Kindle version's price drops. Sometimes it takes years. But, this way, the books I accumulate 1. cost almost nothing, and 2. don't occupy physical space, and 3. are spread out over time. Compulsion neither fully indulged nor stanched!<BR><BR></i>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-51410618275456565202024-03-10T08:25:00.009-04:002024-03-13T08:01:46.592-04:00Opting Out of Rumination Over What's Missing<i>I'm replaying this posting from June 2022. I undersold it at the time. This is the secret to human happiness. And there's nothing to develop or practice, because it's a choice, not a course of action. A re-framing. It is an action of cessation, not of acquisition; a dropping of false assumptions and counterproductive reactions. You own your assumptions and your reactions! You can reframe at any moment! You're free!<br><br>
I am a completely different person after having learned this lesson. I seem the same; still goofy and wry; still seeking bodacious yum-yums. But now I have a magic trick. I can have doors shut in my face, receive awful news, be oddly persecuted, or (worst of all) drive 100 miles to a boarded-up restaurant without so much as blinking. All without turning numb. I'm right here, totally alive and alert, but enjoy the ride, come what may. All from one little adjustment. One flip. One re-framing.</i><br><br><br>
Way back in January 2009, at the dawn of the Slog, I posted one of the most enduringly popular entries, titled <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2009/01/monks-and-coffee.html">"The Monks and the Coffee"</a>. It featured this story:
<blockquote>
A woman worked as a driver for some Buddhist monks traveling around California for a series of meditation programs. The monks had fallen crazily in love with a certain brand of coffee they'd discovered during the trip. But while they practically jumped for joy whenever they came upon some, she found it interesting that they never showed the slightest trace of disappointment if they failed to find any. Even when days went by without finding their coffee, they were no less happy. It began to dawn on her that if they never drank that coffee again, it wouldn't bother them in the least. Yet each time they found it they positively basked in the delight.
</blockquote>
It struck a chord with me (and with many readers), but I couldn't say I really understood it. But a few months later, I was given the key to unlock the mystery. That Christmas Eve I <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/12/the-deeper-implications-of-holiday-blues.html" id="id_a1f_3b19_38be_dbbf" target="_self">found myself</a> flipping between peak experience and crushing sadness, all while <b><i> nothing changed even the tiniest bit.</i></b> Just my perspective! My framing!<br><br>
This galvanized my attention, and I pondered it closely for years, cataloguing here my unfolding epiphanies, as indexed in <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2016/09/the-evolution-of-perspective.html">"The Evolution of a Perspective"</a>. Eventually this exploration of perspective/framing produced fresh understanding of <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2008/12/ballasting-happiness.html">human happiness</a>, <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2020/08/a-new-explanation-of-autism_14.html" id="id_8460_a0f2_49a4_56ef">autism</a>, <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2020/11/liberation-and-addiction.html">addiction</a>, depression (<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2015/09/a-unique-perspective-on-depression.html">here</a> and <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-main-cause-of-major-depression.html">here</a>), <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/07/epiphany-eureka-and-inspiration.html">creativity</a>, <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/06/friday-in-park-with-jim.html">art</a>, <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2017/01/why-does-god-see-disclaimer-let-bad.html">cosmology</a>, <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/07/you-can-be-messiah.html"> theology</a>, and all the way up to <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-visualization-fallacy.html">the nature of the universe and multiverse</a>.<br><br>
<hr width="75%"><br>
But the initial insight was the most practically useful: <b><i>We don’t live in What’s Missing. We live in What Is. What's Missing isn't real. </i></b>In fact, it’s the very definition of unreality. And there's always stuff missing; an infinite depot to draw from in dredging up needless misery for oneself.<div><blockquote><i>Why would you do this? To <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2008/12/ballasting-happiness.html">ballast your happiness</a>, of course!</i></blockquote>
It works according to a dementedly simple formula:
<blockquote>(Optimality) - (Current Moment) = (Misery)</blockquote>
It's absurd, because "optimality" is a mind trip; a head fake; an empty intellectual construct. It's plainly ditzy to begin with. Just for one thing, optimality is famously slippery. Once you attain it, you quickly grow tired of it and start dreaming up some other notion of it. You know this! Yet you still fall for it every time, generating gratuitous misery. <div><br></div><div>Whatever's happening right here/right now, your <b><i>dear departed grandpa won't be here to see it</i></b>. And odds are that you are not currently experiencing a thrashing orgasm courtesy of a mesmerizingly attractive and solicitous lover. Moment: I proclaim thee SUBOPTIMAL! Hence misery.<br><br>
But what-isn't-happening doesn't have anything to do with anything, and certainly shouldn't affect our experience of the current moment - aka "reality". If you drop the habit of scanning for suboptimality (like a princess detecting smaller and smaller peas beneath her mattress), you'll be left with nothing but appreciation of the current moment on its own terms. And that appreciation won't deplete over time, because it's <b><i>real</i></b>.<br><br>
<hr width="75%"><br>Peak moments are quickly deflated by trivialities. You have to pee. You remember that you don't own a Porsche. You recall that terrible thing your second grade teacher said. Or you just get tired of the sunset view from your chaise lounge in Hawaii. Time to go in, and find lots of fresh juicy suboptimalities to thwart your natural flow of contentment, appreciation, and grace.<br><br>
We scramble to reconstruct peak experience by trying to book another vacation. We save up, praying for a raise at work and for the perfect obliging companion to share it all with. We struggle to get it all just right; to make the world correspond as closely as possible with the fake, cartoon-like optimality cooked up by our fevered brains.<br><br>But, again, even if we make the world cough up that optimality cartoon, we won't be happy for long. Soon we'll need to pee, or remember we don't own Porsches, or recall that thing teacher said. When the dog catches the car, it's just a car. Just a chaise lounge. And I need to pee. <br><br>
The spiritual teacher/troll GI Gurdjieff wrote a book that was bullshit aside from its title: "Life is Real Only Then, when 'I Am…'". He hid the entire message in plain sight: We're all 100% aspirational. Like hamsters on a wheel, we never arrive, and it's entirely a choice of perspective. Of framing. <br><br>
Arrival is a manifestation of perspective, not the prize received for lining up ducks in a perfect row. You can arrive <b><i>now</i></b>, just as you are, even if you need to pee and are not in Hawaii and still don't own a Porsche. <b><i>Even if grandpa isn’t here with you right now</i></b>. <br><br>
Without the neurotic, delusional consideration of fake-out "Optimality" in the formula...
<blockquote>(Optimality) - (Current Moment) = (Misery)</blockquote>
....all you have is Now; un-judged, un-ranked, directly experienced. “Right here, right now” is all that’s real. What’s missing is not real. Obsession with What Isn’t is indulgent caprice. At best, it's <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-stories-we-tell-ourselves.html" id="id_4380_4c47_321d_2274">stories we tell ourselves</a>. At worst, we're all bonkers, living a dystopian fantasy of un-lost loss; of needless misery.<br><br>
<hr width="75%"><br>
If you live in a fairytale (i.e. bonkers) world of self-narrated stories, you are condemned to live in What's Missing, and there's another word for that world: Hell. <br><br>
If you opt out when your mind gently invites you to consider how GRANDPA'S NOT HERE WITH YOU - which is completely irrelevant - you will appreciate the here and now, and there's a word for that world: Heaven.<br><br><br>
<i>
There is a dangerous rebound effect to watch out for. I explained it very tersely <a href="http://jimleff.blogspot.com/2015/12/two-points-of-spiritual-progress.html">here</a>, filled it in <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2016/02/letting-go-and-getting-betterbut.html" id="id_18b9_dba6_735b_125a" target="_self">here</a> and <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/06/frame-yourself-in-comedy.html" id="id_8094_f696_3ded_7535" target="_self">here</a>. Take this seriously. No one else will warn you about this; it is a humungous pitfall no one seems to have previously pointed out, and it's easily avoided if you're watching for it. <br></i><br></div><div><i>Oh, and for an index of postings related to this insight, see (per mention above) </i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2016/09/the-evolution-of-perspective.html" style="font-style: italic;">The Evolution of a Perspective</a><i>.</i></div><div><br>
</div></div>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-17652374791555850822024-03-06T05:54:00.016-05:002024-03-06T16:48:15.500-05:00Stupidity Nesting Dolls
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcKJGtH67hfAAsefN9YmIBCDtF78V0AMSV3KBGA82M-gR4vF-n6A4-ewRT-H4t8C39x6q6sN9aQA72O-PWp88gWVwXsskwVMdTrv0pNDhoGy2FiUa6ZTRejPKvOCNv_f6Go7sHOpCxqBws1JlXp2x6tUiOCEJl6ceKy64Ce7-HQtBv0CnmA9U4njGbMaY/s1358/IMG_1340.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1345" data-original-width="1358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcKJGtH67hfAAsefN9YmIBCDtF78V0AMSV3KBGA82M-gR4vF-n6A4-ewRT-H4t8C39x6q6sN9aQA72O-PWp88gWVwXsskwVMdTrv0pNDhoGy2FiUa6ZTRejPKvOCNv_f6Go7sHOpCxqBws1JlXp2x6tUiOCEJl6ceKy64Ce7-HQtBv0CnmA9U4njGbMaY/s400/IMG_1340.jpeg" id="id_1297_282d_e172_f5c4" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></div>
In addition to being funny and (hopefully) relateable, this person has precluded any accusation of false modesty. In a world where people claim to be "humbled" when their titanic loftiness is recognized, there's only a micron-wide gap for real modesty. And this threads the needle.<br><br>
But here's the problem. There are millions out there who honestly believe Bill Gates planted nano chips in their vaccine so he could control their thoughts, and who would happily frame this meme and display it on their desks, because, good lord, it rings <b><i>so true</i></b>. <br><br>
The world is rife with bullshit people staunchly committed to their no-bullshitness and legit exasperated by all the maddening bullshit out there. And I, alas, am unable to recognize this without framing it back on myself. Am I any higher class of dummy? Or is it brute dummies all the way down?<br><br>
I've given up boozing, and meditative oblivion gets boring, so I have no choice but to flail at coming up with answers to such conundrums. I don't have one here, yet, but can offer a helpful chunk: Recognizing stupidity doesn't mean you're smart, it just means you're observant. <br><br><br>
<i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a></i><br><br>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-57571812185763957352024-03-04T07:53:00.083-05:002024-03-09T09:52:49.431-05:00The Savage Dystopia of Vapid Conversation<i>Tying together previously unconnected observations and finding a common basis for post-Covid dementia, social media inanity, and so-called "cancel culture"....</i><br><br>
Spotted today on the Book of Faces:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhGzGoS2c_uaF7Xg1el4L3nMP1SqpdPn5IMkFyYk2WCYFINP4lrKmB3vw1F6sQB-ePUVek6DJk6pwrBOr73Ki3ZyZmbj0F_zWcx5o_zlQ8myJljKkL5zuWPTBaC6zh8uc05SBdGE8tbqYJU-aMuJ7M_3wI1S8utTYes9nHaBD8BfRHd5ODl7LqDcWGDgQ/s1349/male.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="1349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhGzGoS2c_uaF7Xg1el4L3nMP1SqpdPn5IMkFyYk2WCYFINP4lrKmB3vw1F6sQB-ePUVek6DJk6pwrBOr73Ki3ZyZmbj0F_zWcx5o_zlQ8myJljKkL5zuWPTBaC6zh8uc05SBdGE8tbqYJU-aMuJ7M_3wI1S8utTYes9nHaBD8BfRHd5ODl7LqDcWGDgQ/s400/male.jpeg" id="id_2c1e_baf3_d8ca_5ae9" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></div>
A real conversation starter!<br><br>
This sort of thing preceded social media. A theme is raised, and people take turns "sharing" stories more or less relating to that theme. Humans love doing this because it invites us to freely unload the contents of our brain without requiring thought or consideration. "'Cookies,' you say? Well, let me tell you about the time my cousin Wayne ate so many that he vomited!"<br><br>
We don't care about Wayne, even a little bit. But we dare not stop them while they're unloading. This is as close to a "performance" as non-creative people ever get. It's their time to shine. Hush now, and try to laugh supportively. <br><br>
Our minds are fringy hairballs of half-baked thoughts and memories. So it's cognitively soothing to extract something nominally relevant from that hopeless clutter. Like a hoarder who's been asked for a green sponge, the glee is high.<br><br>
You can't get people to help, or to show up, or even to <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/11/filtering-zombie-army.html" id="id_a834_9101_6245_a86f">do, like, anything, really</a>. This is the sole remaining way in which contemporary human beings can dependably be persuaded to contribute. It's come down to this:<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhGzGoS2c_uaF7Xg1el4L3nMP1SqpdPn5IMkFyYk2WCYFINP4lrKmB3vw1F6sQB-ePUVek6DJk6pwrBOr73Ki3ZyZmbj0F_zWcx5o_zlQ8myJljKkL5zuWPTBaC6zh8uc05SBdGE8tbqYJU-aMuJ7M_3wI1S8utTYes9nHaBD8BfRHd5ODl7LqDcWGDgQ/s1349/male.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="1349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhGzGoS2c_uaF7Xg1el4L3nMP1SqpdPn5IMkFyYk2WCYFINP4lrKmB3vw1F6sQB-ePUVek6DJk6pwrBOr73Ki3ZyZmbj0F_zWcx5o_zlQ8myJljKkL5zuWPTBaC6zh8uc05SBdGE8tbqYJU-aMuJ7M_3wI1S8utTYes9nHaBD8BfRHd5ODl7LqDcWGDgQ/s400/male.jpeg" id="id_1d89_37a0_271f_b674" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></div><br>
I think it was George Carlin who did a bit about the desperate talk radio host coaxing listeners to call in by inviting opinions about nun-strangling. So, yeah, the gambit of conversation-starting has been around for a while. In fact, it paid for the apartment in which I currently type. <br><br>
But it's now all there is. Mindless "sharing" is no longer something we mostly do while roasting marshmallows around glowing campfires. Social media invites us to chime in randomly, uninterestingly, unhelpfully, inanely, 24/7. And we're so used to this that hardly anyone can respond directly and substantitively to another person's statement even in the course of everyday conversation. At very best, people may lightly scan your speech or writing for a keyword triggering them to "share" broadly on that general theme. "'Cookies,' you say?"<br><br>
Paying attention to another person is hard. And forming a salient response requires way more effort than anyone is interested in applying. People aren't worth all that. So, per the way of things, the muscle atrophies. Many are so dulled (by comfort, complacency, and quarantine) that they couldn't listen closely or respond relevantly even if they wanted to. It's strictly hypothetical, though, because who'd want to?<br><br>
Nearly everyone in the rich world, especially post-lockdown, is roaringly narcissistic. But I've been wrong to pin this stuff entirely on narcissism.<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2023/09/post-covid-psychopathology.html" id="id_4b20_cded_ebea_7ed7" target="_self">A few weeks ago</a>, I offered this example of the problem:
<blockquote>
If someone is explaining astronomy to you and gets stuck remembering a term, and you fill in “gravitational lensing”, there is 0% probability they will stop their spiel, look freshly at you, and declare “Oh! You know astronomy!”<br><br>
Pre-Covid, it was more like 60%.<br><br>
They will continue their explanation - their performance - without hesitation. You have nothing to do with it. It’s like you’re not even there. This is the framing: My thoughtstream is paramount. My assumptions are sacrosanct. Actual evidence is inconsequential; flimsy and unreal.
</blockquote>
To be sure, that's not <b><i>non</i></b>-narcissistic! You can't view other people as full-fledged beings while using their faces as targets for splattering your pent-up mental contents. My frequent observation - that we’re all far too narcissistic to recognize how extremely narcissistic everyone is - applies. Our obliviousness to the clear truth that no one ever actually talks to us stems from 1. our delusion of centrality ("everyone is <b><i>always</i></b> paying attention to me!"), plus the hilarious fact that 2. we're paying as little attention as they are. We have mental contents of our own to unload, which we're busily preparing while they babble. 'Cookies,' you say?<br><br>
But it's not all narcissism. It’s also the viral practice of chiming in on a loose theme rather than responding to whatever was just said. "Sharing", not conversing (“sharing” has become an Orwellian term for “broadcasting,” just as “humbled” is now how we flaunt). This is not to claim human discussion was ever super on-point. But it used to be, sometimes. Now it's never. It's too much damned work to pay attention, much less respond relevantly. We've decided that people just aren't worth it. And we're too self-absorbed to notice that any of this is happening. <br><br>
So that's unpleasant. But there's more. The same phenomenon sows chaos...and worse. Let's alter that meme a little:<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-GMTpLy20YCi38YKGJuJQtbeWxQzQGHgb-X2JU3yk_9me2nF_szF-Y4_ygaaxWe8QsB7Dz7UoG5_O-SKLjMVZADhv1nPazhpbV8QZ6ZHJ5vkdbJLDMnGM2JbNjw55Ogqr_emKBJm3d6ap2fLCKQ7BnNgMqcLOVjMoYC8NPoX9pKlpzFyQXEwTTGMsSY/s1349/chick.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="1349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-GMTpLy20YCi38YKGJuJQtbeWxQzQGHgb-X2JU3yk_9me2nF_szF-Y4_ygaaxWe8QsB7Dz7UoG5_O-SKLjMVZADhv1nPazhpbV8QZ6ZHJ5vkdbJLDMnGM2JbNjw55Ogqr_emKBJm3d6ap2fLCKQ7BnNgMqcLOVjMoYC8NPoX9pKlpzFyQXEwTTGMsSY/s400/chick.jpeg" id="id_b3b8_f955_ee6d_62eb" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></div><br>
I can assure you, having run a huge online forum, that this won't be a discussion about music. It will be a discussion about a <b><i>whole other</i></b> topic.<br><br>
"I'm offended!" is just another way to rotely grab hold of a keyword and unload mental clutter. Another tape to pop in. The person urging others to chime in doesn't get to restrain what, exactly, gets unloaded (you cannot imagine the grief Chowhound's moderators took while trying to curtail discussion of motorboat repair, bowling, and global politics in a food forum). Unloaders do not appreciate being thwarted in mid-spurt.<br><br>
It's entirely predictable that people point their hoses at the inviter as zestfully as the invitation. Rather than vapidly sharing on the theme, they’ll vapidly share about the choice of keyword. Our hoses are stupendously agnostic. They just spray and spray and spray!<br><br>
So if I were foolish enough to type out the word "nigger", hardly anyone would take context into account. Nary an iota of consideration would be paid to who I am, where I'm coming from, what I meant, or how I've lived my life. Such factors are utterly irrelevant. Rather, a keyword compels an unconstrained outflow of mental contents - in this case maybe not such nice contents - because that's what words are <b style="font-style: italic;">for </b>now<i>. </i>And, of course, whoever typed that word is a racist racist who must crawl up and die. Because that's the take.<br><br>
Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-76742281908197430292024-03-03T11:28:00.007-05:002024-03-03T11:36:17.720-05:00PortugeshiNo one recognizes it - because no one burrows into immigrant subcultures like I do - but the Portuguese fishing town I'm staying in will, in the next few years, turn flamboyantly Bengali/Bangladeshi. I predict it will look like those towns in northern England which have had enormous immigration from the region. <BR><BR>
In fact, it's happening because England hasn't embraced them, so new émigrés are looking for a more welcoming harbor. And Portugal is warmer, cheaper, with an easier immigration process, plus all the other advantages that led me here. I'm not the only one who noticed!<BR><BR>
It's funny. The Portuguese have been grousing about American immigrants, to the point where, in my interactions with strangers, I feel obliged to swiftly disconnect from their expectations. But while I'm as comfortable with Bengali/Bangladeshi food/music/culture/people as with Portuguese, the foreignness (no one here spent years living in Jackson Heights!) will throw them for a loop. A few hundred Americans butchering their language and competing for apartments will seem mild, in retrospect.<BR><BR>
Tonight, I'm attending a chicken biryani experiment by a couple from Calcutta who plan to open a restaurant next month. Indian restaurants in Portugal are expected to serve stuff like pizza and kebabs - i.e. be all-purpose sources of non-Portuguese food for natives seeking occasional escape from bacalhau. But I don't believe my friends will be offering pizza.<BR><BR>
আর কোন গড-ডিমেড পিৎজা!<BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-82422957862940711272024-02-27T16:00:00.008-05:002024-02-27T16:07:45.098-05:00Junky Magic DessertMy favorite food writer, John Thorne, wrote, before there was an Internet, that clickbait recipes never work. You'll never evoke magic from just the right proportion of spam and bouillon cubes. For time immemorial, people have tried to sell the notion that some simple, junkie, stupid trick creates INSTANT MAGIC. But it never does. So don't be a sucker!<BR><BR>
I live to prove John Thorne wrong. So here's a simple, junkie, stupid trick to create INSTANT MAGIC:<BR><BR>
Heat in a toaster oven or (better) air fryer, two McVitie's Digestive Biscuits and a leftover muffin (roughly pulled apart into big chunks). Don't let anything brown; stop the process as soon as you detect baking smells.<BR><BR>
Break the cookies and muffin into quarter-sized chunks with your hands (you don't want it too regular). Strew with diced ripe strawberries and stir. That's it.<BR><BR>
I know that you all think it would be better with mascarpone or crème fraîche. Looks DRY and your culinary school teacher/home economics teacher/cookbook guru insists that nothing may ever be DRY. <BR><BR>
This is stupid and ridiculous. It's the dimwitted thinking that leads to the serving of beautiful potato chips with glurky dips. It's just the remnants of 1960s/1970s goormay indoctrination. It needs to go.<BR><BR>
Yes, this would be delicious with mascarpone or crème fraîche. But it's fine without those things, too. Eat with a spoon, preferably before the cookie/muffin cool. Be happy.<BR><BR>
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<BR><BR>
<i>If you have some quality balsamico, a very light, narrow, lacy drizzle over the top would be great.<BR><BR></i>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-83497290758359958122024-02-25T09:15:00.007-05:002024-02-29T06:48:26.449-05:00The Other Side of the Coin<center><b>The Century</b></center><br>
On January 1, 2000, and for a while after, the 21st Century felt titillatingly unfamiliar. The feeling didn't last long. But for a long while it still felt weird to say "the last century." An inhabitant of the 1990s is accustomed to the previous century feeling further away.<br><br>
It's more normal now. A quarter-century in, the 20th century has finally begun to feel <b><i>previous</i></b>. <br><br>
<center><b>The Townie</b></center><br>
I was living in a shabby district of Queens when Ron Howard arrived to shoot "Ransom". Needing a shady nabe for the scene where the kidnappers stash their victim, they'd chosen a grim tenement a couple doors down from my own grim tenement. <br><br>
At first, it seemed exciting. Another show biz prong in my life. But I'd never for a moment framed myself as the inhabitant of moldy tenements in shady nabes. I was a hipped out 30 year old jazz trombonist and cult food writer, and I was camped here because it was all I could afford "for the moment". <br><br>
So when the hipped-out production staff showed up to keep the idiot townies from ruining their outdoor shots - idiot townies like me! - it sparked an identity crisis. Did living here make me someone who'd live here? <br><br>
I struggled to understand which side I was actually on. And how much time, if any, was left on my ticking clock before the concrete set and this was no longer a way station.
<blockquote>
<i>At the time, I was still thinking of myself cinematically, a habit I began to opt out of on the night I figured out <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/12/the-deeper-implications-of-holiday-blues.html">this</a>, as catalogued <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2016/09/the-evolution-of-perspective.html">here</a>.</i>
</blockquote>
Then a couple production assistants tried to hand me clipboards, assuming I was on the team, and all was well. In the "Munsters" framing of it all, I was still <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/07/marilyn-syndrome.html">Marilyn</a>. At least for a while.<br><br>
<center><b>The 11-Year-Old</b></center><br>
As I've <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2022/01/unifying-framing-learning-creativity.html">explained</a>, I'm eleven. Not "I feel youthful", nor "I am an immature man/baby". When I was eleven, I saw clearly. And I recognized that older kids, and adults, don't get any clearer. On the contrary, they tend to lose their damned minds, though they enjoyed certain perqs. So I've been holding right there this whole time. <br><br>
As I acquired the perqs - a driver's license, a girlfriend, disposable income, erudition and experience, release from my mother's miserable cooking into a world of deliciousness, etc. - I relished it out of all proportion. But never having transformed myself into The Person Who'd Passed Those Milestones, I remained a gleeful, clear-headed eleven year old - perhaps the only one in history who ever scored all the perqs. It turned out to be an effective approach. Give adult assets to a particularly clear-headed eleven year old and he can do anything.<br><br>
As a child I was always comfortable with elderly people. None ever condescended to me. We spoke like peers. I felt like I was burning the candle from both ends - old-but-young, young-but-old. I felt like I could nearly reach out to touch my own elderly self - and, a half-century later, I feel the same reaching back, hence my series of Postcards from My Childhood (scroll down to #1 and read reverse-chronologically <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/postcards">here</a>).<br><br>
I remained good with old people. They found common ground, through some strange logic, with my entrenched eleven-year-old's perspective. But now, on the brink of old age myself, I find it difficult to socialize with people my age. They seem puckered; tight; congealed. Having fully given in to neuroses (remember the Sammy Davis hit "I Gotta Be Me"?), the Crazy sets in concrete like frown lines on the face of a worrier.<br><br>
All my life I've struggled to make at least a flimsy effort to portray the myriad guys I've seen in the bathroom mirror - a proposition that grows more comedic with passing time. But, lately, I'm hardly trying. Less <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2023/01/indeterminate-dread-and-false-urgency.html">dread-driven</a>, and (even) less compelled to provoke any certain reaction, I feel freer to be myself, regardless. Maybe I've given in to neurosis; the crazy has set in concrete.<br><br>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-63502894605840253582024-02-24T17:08:00.004-05:002024-02-25T04:31:54.764-05:00The Best ContentYahoo, a mediocre conglomerate, bought Endgadget, an excellent tech blog, in 2021. This week, they fired a bunch of staffers, plus some head honchos including the editor-in-chief (whom they won't be replacing).<br><br>
Here's the press release from Yahoo (which makes my blood curl with its general tone, especially "reaching out", which is a dumb-ass cliché even used properly):<div><div><blockquote>"I am reaching out today to share that we’re making changes to our organization, which will allow us to streamline our work, increase our velocity and ultimately deliver the best content to our readers."</blockquote>
Daring Fireball's John Gruber absolutely <a href="https://daringfireball.net/linked/2024/02/22/yahoo-engadget-layoffs">nails</a> the salient issue:
<blockquote> The sort of executive who calls what their own publication creates “content” is exactly the sort of asshole who thinks talented editors and writers can be laid off while increasing “velocity” and the quality of the work. </blockquote>
Bingo. <br><br><br>
<i>My <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2008/12/chowhound-story.html">epic series</a> on the sale of my startup, Chowhound, to a media conglomerate was not just a cautionary tale for idealistic founders. It was also an object lesson on the collision of creative, passionate people with corporate puddy pud-puds, explaining exactly why the latter are an inextricable fixture of corporations. This line of thought culminated in <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2012/04/bubbles-slogs-and-selling-out-part-22.html">this installment</a>.
</i><br><br></div></div>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-63159797018838983452024-02-21T11:27:00.009-05:002024-02-21T14:25:01.852-05:00Two Useful Terms<center><b>Oppositional Defiance Disorder</b></center><br>
I have a mild aphasia. I <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2008/07/tip-of-your-tongue.html">need to struggle for words</a>. Most people can't relate...until they hit a situation where there is no word. Then they know how I feel! <br><br>
In this case, the phrase does exist, but it's nowhere near as well-known as the condition it describes. I constantly see people reaching for a term to describe people with a kneejerk compulsion to always do the opposite thing. Say, for example, members of a staunchly anti-Russian political party, seeing the opposing party try to block Russia from slaughtering and obliterating its neighbor, turn around and start rooting <b><i>against</i></b> the obliterees, just to be dicks. What do you call that?<br><br>
<i>Oppositional Defiance Disorder</i>.<br><br>
There you go. You're welcome.<br><br>
<center><b>Hedonic Adaptation</b></center><br>
Hedonic adaptation, aka <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hedonic_treadmill">Hedonic treadmill</a>, is a term I just heard for the first time. It refers to the fact that people have a steady level of happiness they "shoot for", so when they become too happy, they ratchet themselves right back down again. It's like a thermostat for happiness, keeping you nice and "meh" (or worse - depressives, I'm looking at you!). <br><br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2008/12/ballasting-happiness.html">"Ballasting Happiness"</a>, second on the Hits List in the left margin, was one of my proudest breakthroughs. And, yeah, I was just too ignorant to know it was already figured out back in, like, yeesh, 1971.<br><br>
I can console myself because I also posited <b><i>how</i></b> we do it, accounting for otherwise inexplicable human behavior. But still, my greatest fear is that the ideas I've grinded on for 30 or 40 years, popping out insights that strike me as gratifyingly unique and fresh, are actually banal and everyone knows this stuff but me. I.e. I'm the slow child breaking through. <i>Hey, good for yooooou, buddy!</i> <br><br>
That's how I feel perpetually: the slow child breaking through. Remember the time <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2008/09/breaking-free-of-adhesion-mafia.html">I conceptually reinvented glue</a>?<br><br>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-68190870565569890932024-02-20T06:29:00.023-05:002024-02-21T10:17:10.659-05:00NAIHISIINHYSIIBIKEAIAYKNAIProposing a new acronym:
<blockquote>
<b>NAIHISIINHYSIIBIKEAIAYKLNAI</b>
</blockquote>
This is short for "No, actually, it's how I said it is, not how you said it is, because I know everything about it and you know literally nothing about it." In my head, it's said in a calm, firm monotone, though you likely heard an incensed huff.<BR><BR>
For half of you, it triggered "arrogant asshole" vibes. Such readers have likely already clicked off the page. So I'll address the remainder, for whom this triggered "fucking people!" vibes. One is habitually on one side or the other of this Great Divide.<BR><BR>
I left it super open-ended because it happens everywhere now; in all realms. "The Death of Expertise" - the observation that ignorance presumes to triumph over erudition via empty cocky snark - is just one tendril of a larger problem. And it's absolutely everywhere now.<BR><BR>
Hyper-accelerated by the <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2023/09/post-covid-psychopathology.html">massive narcissism stoked during COVID lockdown</a>, it started well before. My first experience came in the late 90s, when I ordered two cannoli, no powdered sugar. The clerk nodded attentively, and brought back two cannoli with powdered sugar.
<blockquote>
"I said 'no powdered sugar'."<BR><BR>
"No, you didn't."
</blockquote>
Of course, anyone can mis-hear or screw up. That's no problem. Or maybe I mumbled. But how odd to imagine your hearing/remembering supersedes my speech!
<blockquote>
"I'm pretty sure I know what I said, because I said it!" <BR><BR>
Insolent shrug<BR><BR>
"So you think I was deliberately messing with you? Or is it that I've lost control of my mouth?"
</blockquote>
Brief minor confusion. Darting eyes. The clerk hadn't considered my end. She's not, after all, like, a psychiatrist or whatever. "Who knows," she replied. "But I heard you."<BR><BR>
Hey, she heard me. What else could possibly matter? She's the Central Character, while I'm way out here amid a cartoonish blur of Customers. Of Humanity. You know; the periphery.<BR><BR>
Since then, it's gotten so much worse. People often tell me who they think I am and what they think I've done, and what my intentions were. Figuring they're just being cheeky and provocatively conversational, I warmly grin and correct them. And their faces freeze. No. That's not what they thought. Often they'll argue back, restating their assumption. Because what else could possibly matter beyond their thinking?<BR><BR>
At this point, we need an acronym. Hence "NAIHISIINHYSIIBIKEAIAYKLNAI".<BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-20602317030960412512024-02-17T18:08:00.002-05:002024-02-17T18:08:55.430-05:00Fettuccine Alfredo Is Just Buttery Frickin' NoodlesFriend-of-the-Slog Paul Trapani recommends the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@GamberoRossoTube">Gambero Rosso YouTube channel</a> for Italian cookery, and while I've enjoyed some of their stuff, <a href="https://youtu.be/PyADfuVljko?feature=shared">this one on fettuccine Alfredo</a>....well, I have issues. <BR><BR>
I've added wise-ass narration, Mystery Science Theater style. Sorry for covering up the dude's histrionic Italian patter. Also, apologies for bad language, shrieking, and overly harsh critique of the whisking, which is maybe not entirely <i>stupido</i>.<BR><BR>
Have at it. Volume up.
<BR><BR>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CdgYAv0h_-g?si=Y2_3boD1x8SkeBCx" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-23061487999809248302024-02-16T16:30:00.016-05:002024-02-16T17:35:47.113-05:00Meta-Prompting AII’ve discovered a juicy way to prompt AI that hasn’t been much discussed. It’s juicy because it’s super helpful, a bit unexpected, and viscerally shows that AI does possess a sort of self-aware intelligence. It's hard to go back to Siri or Alexa after using language model AI this way.<br><br>
Say you've asked the AI to produce some result, and, as is often the case, it's not exactly what you asked for. There are flaws. You point out a flaw, and the AI, per its programming, fawns all over you with apologies, and offers a new version, which, ugh, has other, similar flaws. You point out a few. Rinse, repeat, rinse repeat. Lots of apologies, lots of incremental progress, but the piecemeal improvement begins to annoy. So here’s my trick:
<blockquote>"It took a lot of back/forth, above, to get what I wanted. Without apologizing or explaining the limits of AI, can you review it and advise me, now that you better understand what I wanted, how I might have prompted you in the first place to get to this result more quickly and easily? Where did I go wrong?"</blockquote>
Of course, people rarely ask an AI (or any other sort of intelligence) how <b><i>they</i></b> could do better. That’s not a direction humans are prone to choosing. But the AI, cognizant of the previous interaction, can evaluate it from a higher level to help you see how it might have been directed to the present point more efficiently. It can, in other words, coach you to use it better. <br><br>
The AI will also reframe(!) to an even higher level. "Would that style of prompting <b><i>also</i></b> help in this somewhat related sort of hypothetical case?" The AI will hop effortlessly to the higher level, and analyze broader applicability. You can even go all the way and ask it to suggest far-flung applications for the suggested style of prompting. A whole vein of self-aware guidance is available! And the AI actually seems (it's not real) to find it refreshing to think/help in this way. It seems (it's not real) to enjoy it. <br><br>
FWIW I access AI tools via <a href="https://www.typingmind.com">TypingMind</a>, a friendly interface for AI interactions (accessible on both desktop and mobile), with easy entry into various AI programs (language stuff, image stuff, specialized knowledge, etc), and stores searchable logs of your interactions. There are other such services, but TypingMind is popular and well-liked. You'll need to also create an account on OpenAI, but you're coached through that process.<br><br><br>
<i>Note that this trick works best once you've finally gotten a good result. But you can also interrupt the process to say, "I'm working hard to get you to fix a lot of fairly similar problems. Can you evaluate our interaction and try, freshly, to assess, at a higher level (now that you've gotten additional feedback), where I'm going with this? No apologies, caveats, or statements of intention, please." This actually works!<br><br>
Then, if it does make a big leap, you can proceed with the prompt above (i.e. "How could I have prompted you to this point more efficiently from the start?"). And if you don't like the reply, just say "Give me a different answer!" Once, I thought of an even tighter prompt than the AI had suggested, as it affably admitted. It’s refreshing to interact with an ego-less intelligence!</i><br><br>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-43261072215231176002024-02-13T16:19:00.017-05:002024-03-16T07:58:49.321-04:00The ExperiencerYou know that you experience the world. That's clear for nearly everyone. And it's no small realization!<br><br>
Animals can't know this. They never enjoy such detachment. For them there's no "I', just immediate needs and impulses. <br><br>
Humans can become like that, too, as stakes rise and we "lose perspective". But if you're experiencing a lull (and not filling it with fake high stakes, aka drama, aka Rich People Problems), you probably recognize - at some level, if not always front-and-center - that you are experiencing the world.<br><br>
If you acknowledge the above, you are 99.5% of the way to Buddha-hood, which is far more immediately available than people realize. <br><br>
There's one small remaining flip. Trivial, really. <br><br>
The experiencer of this world isn't this person with whom you identify - this name; this body; this basket of stories and policy positions.<br><br>
This person is just another thing to experience. Its name is an abstract label (you were you before your parents named you), and its body and backstory constantly change. There's no sustained presence to any of it, though you're innately aware that the same unwavering presence has forever gazed out of your eyes. <br><br>
You are that presence. You are the experiencer, which has no name, no body, no story, but is intimately familiar and unmysterious. <br><br>
Go slowly through the next part. Mull it like poetry:<br><blockquote>
A thing can't experience. <br><br>
Things are <i>experienced</i>.<br><br>
So the experiencer can't be a thing.<br><br>
But the experiencer is not eerie. <br><br>
No distant spiritual gaseous cloud or supernatural entity.<br><br>
It's what you are - right now, right here - and have always been, <br><br>
even if you can't possibly point to it.<br><br>
Anything you can point at is a thing.</blockquote><blockquote>And things can't experience!
</blockquote><br><br>
<i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/12/an-epistemological-dialog-on-awakening.html">Further reading</a><BR><BR>
Note that the experiencer is <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/08/the-framer.html">The Framer</a></i><br><br>
Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-57289682990599680652024-02-09T03:00:00.001-05:002024-02-09T03:00:00.343-05:00George Bernard Shaw on Framing<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTQXXhxwHvMWFu6I7Vjxcj72iY3CVy8AzE1zN7jgRB4A3_gv7dEy3RgyyJ7k-LBJmsm9QJyMPvJhuzFIhdFA7K_81yBW4_AHyA00FcTLZEoStGx6VSiszMIE5dDkjJm9X4FxWkH1uuuaklkQhe6WpZC-g_kIrWJXxWTZUPyWO50901yye-QeSgxLdCm0/s1238/IMG_6461.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1238" data-original-width="1170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTQXXhxwHvMWFu6I7Vjxcj72iY3CVy8AzE1zN7jgRB4A3_gv7dEy3RgyyJ7k-LBJmsm9QJyMPvJhuzFIhdFA7K_81yBW4_AHyA00FcTLZEoStGx6VSiszMIE5dDkjJm9X4FxWkH1uuuaklkQhe6WpZC-g_kIrWJXxWTZUPyWO50901yye-QeSgxLdCm0/s600/IMG_6461.jpeg"/></a></div><BR><BR>
Framing!<BR><BR>
But the other way around is juicier. With reframing, everything changes!<BR><BR>
<BR><i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a></i>
<BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-11735523853192899082024-02-08T03:30:00.002-05:002024-02-08T03:30:00.140-05:00Aristotle's Fool<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOXEepgnS9Jplngs063upvRyj27R9QgJykD9oyRAchHxTBhh1c2Zr6L9R2PA5w6J-9VG9aUNBD75yPFFaw9lLDOTdxL6XsP_Pz_wXlgqy6C_MX0_p580xHoJbJQGK0n-7hCT5LB83ed3Q70KxChiHKEkJZapIggWS4PPG2PtQTuvGjWycj7i7VV8XpRg/s1402/IMG_6447.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="1170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOXEepgnS9Jplngs063upvRyj27R9QgJykD9oyRAchHxTBhh1c2Zr6L9R2PA5w6J-9VG9aUNBD75yPFFaw9lLDOTdxL6XsP_Pz_wXlgqy6C_MX0_p580xHoJbJQGK0n-7hCT5LB83ed3Q70KxChiHKEkJZapIggWS4PPG2PtQTuvGjWycj7i7VV8XpRg/s600/IMG_6447.jpeg"/></a></div><BR>
No notes.<BR><BR>
<BR><i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a></i>
<BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-79633785046216394592024-02-07T06:27:00.028-05:002024-02-07T08:15:05.287-05:00Luiz Villas Boas: A Ultima ViagemThe film “Luiz Villas Boas: A Ultima Viagem” is debuting in Lisbon this week, about the father of Portuguese jazz (and an absolute force of nature), with whom I hung out on his final trip to NYC in 1994. <a href="https://youtu.be/pojQ4QCTvI8?si=kG59M-9IG_JtiYry">Here's </a>a brief trailer of the film.<br><br>
The film's director (excellent trumpeter and old friend Laurent Filipe) included me in the footage, excerpted below. In quick succession, there's me telling my famous "Brooklyn Alphabet" joke in a cab on the Williamsburgh Bridge, orienting Luis from the Brooklyn promenade, blowing a cappella over "Body and Soul", and (off-camera) sitting in with my pal Walter "Baby Sweets" Perkins in the Skylark Lounge out by JFK airport, both sorely missed.
<blockquote><br></blockquote>
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A mere three years later, I locked myself in a shabby apartment and sat down in front of a computer to create an online community (which a million people unexpectedly crowded into) and didn't emerge for nine years. Then picked up my horn and couldn't make a sound.<br><br><br><div><i>Search for Walter and for Skylark in old Slog postings for interesting tales. This black bar - the sort of joint where men wore nice hats - was perhaps the only place I ever felt fully at home. And Walter was the only drummer with whom I ever felt complete simpatico (<a href="http://jimleff.info/Pipa/trimmed.mp4">here we are playing in Barcelona two years earlier</a>). I'm actually not quite sure what I'm even doing here with both gone.</i></div>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-9054794890600065902024-02-06T04:00:00.000-05:002024-02-06T04:00:00.131-05:00Charlie Chaplin on Power<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5GWwwm2sPQ24e9B9Ov9cUqD8NPtbMJc2Bxy3FjHYilWwmVxy66o6Bx3OnzV5fG9Z2N99VeUcTvNDSvTDdDlE2Xbvc-Gec8k0buPx_PPgHxBlrlPCcB3Rl5luWzC_cfUY2uhx_xiIVm6quew0c9kmS6KpTTDsOmu9oM84svvaHU6ds6afkegQJJKJJudw/s882/Chaplin.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5GWwwm2sPQ24e9B9Ov9cUqD8NPtbMJc2Bxy3FjHYilWwmVxy66o6Bx3OnzV5fG9Z2N99VeUcTvNDSvTDdDlE2Xbvc-Gec8k0buPx_PPgHxBlrlPCcB3Rl5luWzC_cfUY2uhx_xiIVm6quew0c9kmS6KpTTDsOmu9oM84svvaHU6ds6afkegQJJKJJudw/s600/Chaplin.jpg"/></a></div><BR><BR>
Sorry, Charlie. <b><i>Luck</i></b> was your "power". See <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Survivorship_bias">“Survivor Bias”</a><BR><BR>
I’m not saying Chaplin wasn’t immensely talented. But plenty of immensely talented people lack the luck that constitutes the power that makes you more than just some immensely talented shmuck.<BR><BR>
<BR><i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a></i>
<BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-40624947080896204782024-02-05T07:30:00.398-05:002024-02-06T13:04:51.464-05:00Wild Boar in Four Takes<br>
<center><b>Wild boar Starting Point </b></center>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42CqeQZ6RAkW_sPhmu27QOwNBxJYxAm9BWqHdvrlQcoW4Jv0a4h18detJDTrQiNz4i6AX0cP6HymeIVH6x7gyq9sZSGn_HSBVU4vAQHOJlbSZyVaDPXS0bIsHCM7TOSqFdvewnvQfTXbG7oT3aC_4Rv92SCr-PceobLEH3SiPlydQahnAdPVdrmt5Iyg/s4032/IMG_6378.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42CqeQZ6RAkW_sPhmu27QOwNBxJYxAm9BWqHdvrlQcoW4Jv0a4h18detJDTrQiNz4i6AX0cP6HymeIVH6x7gyq9sZSGn_HSBVU4vAQHOJlbSZyVaDPXS0bIsHCM7TOSqFdvewnvQfTXbG7oT3aC_4Rv92SCr-PceobLEH3SiPlydQahnAdPVdrmt5Iyg/s600/IMG_6378.jpeg" id="id_fb63_c9b1_89f3_bf49" style="width: 450px; height: auto;"></a></div>
Braised wild boar (actually "collared peccary", but 'close enough for jazz', as Lou Reed would say), shot by my electrician's father - with night-vision goggles - and potatoes. Prepared by his mother-in-law, a gifted Brazilian chef. Tremendous. <br><br>
And I took home leftovers, to wit....<br><br>
<center><b>Wild Boar Hash, Version #1</b></center><br>
Dusted with Brazilian farofa (toasted manioc flour + stuff) and laden with overcooked spinach ricotta gnocchi. Very quick/sloppy dinner, but delicious.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWnLZ2c__cxf1OkV8gbCYDln1yNq1Z5Bd8EnlwsPgE9lXDXNJXWjb8-f5btDxO6hubS8bQH4oF6ByIw8NE24OgEUCVAAXwSJy9mkvxCN4gWY8Y2NveiAfm2elGFKcNJta0zwXFgCisQVqFbc2d6JeKBLMEOHaf0L6JwTpJYlVxj_LwLCL3R1DuxIy9UCA/s4032/IMG_6393.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWnLZ2c__cxf1OkV8gbCYDln1yNq1Z5Bd8EnlwsPgE9lXDXNJXWjb8-f5btDxO6hubS8bQH4oF6ByIw8NE24OgEUCVAAXwSJy9mkvxCN4gWY8Y2NveiAfm2elGFKcNJta0zwXFgCisQVqFbc2d6JeKBLMEOHaf0L6JwTpJYlVxj_LwLCL3R1DuxIy9UCA/s600/IMG_6393.jpeg" id="id_a33b_9ab6_3f72_4a91" style="width: 450px; height: auto;"></a></div><br><br>
<center><b>Wild Boar Hash, Version #2</b></center><br>
Click photo to expand for a whole other experience
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifa6UAw5xzV49sRxUuRmkfgBDqr4PaLuorKVJ2XnJwPXBOJC0wGqOEXrQ__DjY9hNe4Ov8YORDx3xSLyCSc578JKNXHkodn-cpN_s09VOkQRcztJho5YmRm8FFvF_iTNleu1Sb_8BRTUfKqicP8gwU4WaxNCeyDs88YsEonmnkTkYsxpdwLn5iF9YcSDo/s4032/IMG_6434.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifa6UAw5xzV49sRxUuRmkfgBDqr4PaLuorKVJ2XnJwPXBOJC0wGqOEXrQ__DjY9hNe4Ov8YORDx3xSLyCSc578JKNXHkodn-cpN_s09VOkQRcztJho5YmRm8FFvF_iTNleu1Sb_8BRTUfKqicP8gwU4WaxNCeyDs88YsEonmnkTkYsxpdwLn5iF9YcSDo/s600/IMG_6434.jpeg" id="id_2d94_e9e6_7fe0_39b5" style="width: 600px; height: auto;"></a></div>
Obviously, much more thoughtful. Sure enough, there's greater depth of flavor and harmony (and, yes, Chowhounds, I was subconsciously channeling larb). Yet the previous version, so fast/sloppy that it was nearly trashy, was more visceral because I'd caramelized the meat a bit. See the deep brown crunchy strands at lower left in Version #1?<br><br>
Also in version #1, I pulled the meat by hand, creating brown-able frizz. This time, I formally chopped, yielding smooth surfaces - the geological term is "cleavage"...
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulkD_lUMifeHzHwsGCUWQwcnotvSt8q6KGJISIBgyS9h8veTroWG_DyuFmjNcwN2cleY0VzxSuXRhgHA0dSV57Miu0aGsHE7xX1RqRNW8RcC3QfoC1bQcqe1dWzorD9Gin19EgG7QaagD_4grkliupX3gJOVLK7_PdN3q5Ncm3h8oJ1JF8lOEbi7MOMw/s524/cleavage.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiulkD_lUMifeHzHwsGCUWQwcnotvSt8q6KGJISIBgyS9h8veTroWG_DyuFmjNcwN2cleY0VzxSuXRhgHA0dSV57Miu0aGsHE7xX1RqRNW8RcC3QfoC1bQcqe1dWzorD9Gin19EgG7QaagD_4grkliupX3gJOVLK7_PdN3q5Ncm3h8oJ1JF8lOEbi7MOMw/s400/cleavage.jpeg" id="id_705_8469_c231_50c1" style="width: 400px; height: auto;"></a></div>
...presenting no fractals for crunching up. Investing time, care and attention do not, in and of themselves, get it done. You also need to close eyes and visualize how you want different aspects to taste (selfish!) and reverse-engineer the pathway. Don't rotely perform cooking actions. Proceed with purpose to a desired result! <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/07/hitting-bullseye.html">Remember to also hit the bullseye!</a> <br><br>
Seasonings? Home chefs are far too smitten with herbs and spices due to lingering pretentions from the 1960s "gourmet" craze. I'm sure you've heard that master chefs traffic in <b><i>robust, provocative flavors</i></b>! <br><br>
Horse shit. Salt and pepper are plenty delicious. Robust, provocative seasonings are usually just a checkbox to be ticked by wannabes trying to own the process by fiddling around with lots of this and that.<br><br>
Deliciousness does not arise from this or that. It wafts from the contrails of myriad aggregated micro-decisions, nothing so course as reaching for smoked paprika or marjoram. We are, as a species, too stupid to finally acknowledge the obvious fact that mere recipe-following doesn't produce deliciousness. Soul can't be evoked via conscientious measurement and chopping (if it could, McDonald's would be irresistible, and we'd all feast there multiple times per week, moaning ecstatically and clutching our swollen bellies). A shake of cumin won’t slay them. <br><br>
Deliciousness is not about big gestures, which don't compensate for lack of subtlety. So leave the oregano alone (unless it's really needed), and sweat the small stuff (intention, framing, commitment, attention, immersion, and playfulness; all the stuff I keep going on about).<br><br>
In fact, salt and pepper <b><i>are</i></b> the gourmet upgrade! Civilizations were overturned for acquisition of these precious substances. If you can't achieve deliciousness via the fancy delight of salt and pepper, you're just seeming like a chef, not really cooking (most chefs become chefs because they want to be chefs, not because they want to cook).<br><br>
<center><b>Wild Boar Hash, Version #3</b></center><br>
This time I took a pre-farofa skillet shot as well as a final, and the latter requires not only "click to expand", but full-screen treatment, which, I assure you, will deliver an overwhelming sunsplash of radiant hash that will make you sell your house and quit your day job.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpdK3z7UJ5SbKc6O6EBbgoeItc9McwUzrFezVhgKd7vlcN83KeEne7y4e2dsmdylInobpQc52QCsdt-X0v0NwqfDK3JeKjJxF-Of2kN2mg0kbmCvz3M4X26LUOiLCwJDhV1FcdpfAst2r0iSQGYlodauWghiwV6Y4_t6hNRHIc11pfueMWk3VZerfrJo/s4032/IMG_6435.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpdK3z7UJ5SbKc6O6EBbgoeItc9McwUzrFezVhgKd7vlcN83KeEne7y4e2dsmdylInobpQc52QCsdt-X0v0NwqfDK3JeKjJxF-Of2kN2mg0kbmCvz3M4X26LUOiLCwJDhV1FcdpfAst2r0iSQGYlodauWghiwV6Y4_t6hNRHIc11pfueMWk3VZerfrJo/s600/IMG_6435.jpeg" id="id_6d8_7d9f_123c_52e2" style="width: 450px; height: auto;"></a></div>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFBfJXvrgTPKF3eX9rcW5lIXQEPuTGJGWzo4s5Wt0ei1XOIJmGaUsj35TGBYkozRmo8KiDWZlFde23n9DhvptGE74MfzMrGLXidyHrIWqXsheWl8_vl_CVx2t2I7pL5piYr6Ja0gBAzeATp4nNuRk2Y72SEjc98Dt9NZ9Eu-V2jDXs3BtIX2BZDs-vsc/s4032/IMG_6436.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFBfJXvrgTPKF3eX9rcW5lIXQEPuTGJGWzo4s5Wt0ei1XOIJmGaUsj35TGBYkozRmo8KiDWZlFde23n9DhvptGE74MfzMrGLXidyHrIWqXsheWl8_vl_CVx2t2I7pL5piYr6Ja0gBAzeATp4nNuRk2Y72SEjc98Dt9NZ9Eu-V2jDXs3BtIX2BZDs-vsc/s600/IMG_6436.jpeg" id="id_c4c7_b893_900d_9a6" style="width: 600px; height: auto;"></a></div>
Finger-pulled meat? Check.<br><br>
Caramelization of meaty fractals? Check.<br><br>
Spice counter-contrarianism (I added some basil)? Check.<br><br>
Plus: carrot chunks. Checkmate.<br><br>
Also, this time I took more care with my farofa sprinkling. Also, I’d toasted it a bit in a dry skillet, to ensure it wasn't damp. Just wake it up a little. <br><br>
Not as photogenic as last time, which makes sense. Last time I proceeded "by the book", primly chopping the meat with a nice sharp knife. The result was composed and tidy, which is what you want in this Instagram era, but "composed and tidy" is not what you want from hash, so, if deliciousness still matters, this version had it beat by miles. But you'll only get that if you full-screen that second photo. I'm just sayin'...<div><br>
<center><b>Previous hash postings</b></center><br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2023/08/a-trilogy-of-wild-boar-hashes.html">A Trilogy of Wild Boar Hashes</a> (Yup, deja frickin' vu. The trick to cooking is <b><i>iteration</i></b>. Sisyphus is a cook's best role model).<br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/02/pork-rib-hash.html">Pork Rib Hash</a><br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/10/corned-beef-hash-as-exemplar-of-hope.html">Corned Beef Hash as The Exemplar of Hope</a><br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2012/04/boston-and-worcester-lost-love-returns.html">Boston and Worcester: Lost Love Returns</a><br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2022/01/lefftovers-perfecting-and-applying-pan.html">Chunky Central American-Korean Breakfast Hash</a><br>
<a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2021/04/lefftovers-breakfast-hash.html">Breakfast Hash</a><br>
<br><br></div>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-72912883370573382482024-02-04T06:52:00.002-05:002024-02-04T10:32:27.081-05:00Lou Reed on Harmony<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9y68KjRwgviWTc6QmLiGIt5mNNANTz-Sjy8WCoynicwo93dTlPjJVwUeUvVmlb4IkuyBtm5iSfRdIbvWTls3xC3lAq35qV3K_Nn63Ws7jD19P61IVrKd1wB_nm886xr7ZvYD1PpZI_uPoQsb_TCstm7ES6FH-wPqyQ_5K6MyIsOBkPgWtFBG3IyDB4vs/s1000/423160641_897216509080241_8672674580008629223_n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9y68KjRwgviWTc6QmLiGIt5mNNANTz-Sjy8WCoynicwo93dTlPjJVwUeUvVmlb4IkuyBtm5iSfRdIbvWTls3xC3lAq35qV3K_Nn63Ws7jD19P61IVrKd1wB_nm886xr7ZvYD1PpZI_uPoQsb_TCstm7ES6FH-wPqyQ_5K6MyIsOBkPgWtFBG3IyDB4vs/s600/423160641_897216509080241_8672674580008629223_n.jpg"/></a></div><BR><BR>
Perish the thought.<BR><BR>
Also, Mr Cool Soulfulness, The Blues would like a word with your white ass. <BR><BR><small>(Non-musicians: blues require three chords...and they underpin everything Reed does and everything done by anyone he ever respected or emulated.)</small><BR><BR>
<BR><i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a></i>
<BR><BR>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-15273123653452848422024-02-03T06:59:00.003-05:002024-02-03T07:54:30.941-05:00Bathroom Door Locks
I've been wrong about something. I love when that happens! In fact, this is Jubilant Blunder week, between this and <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2024/01/how-i-earned-3500-with-click-of-button.html">my recent</a> change of heart on Vision Pro.
<blockquote>
<i>Digression: Discovering my wrongness feels like gliding a missing puzzle piece into position with an easy snap, beholding the aesthetically soothing result. Nothing else feels quite so right as uncovering one's own wrongness.<br><br>
At least for me. Nearly everyone else appears to invest much of their vital energy into hiding from their wrongness. <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2018/12/being-smart-vs-feeling-smart.html">You can be smart, or you can feel smart</a>, but not both! Smart-feelers self-insulate from truth and correction. <BR><BR>
Criticism (even friendly, non-condescending criticism) only became anathema because this is a world of smart-feelers, for whom truth is like sunlight to vampires.</i>
</blockquote>
Focus Mode is an iOS (and now, MacOS) feature where you pre-configure certain environments where your device tunes out certain people, apps, notifications, and distractions. So if I were to create a Slogging focus mode, it might block out all texts, emails, phone calls, and app notifications, and lock my screen into single-window (I use <a href="https://hazeover.com">HazeOver</a> for this). <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kO2c4XhSWE">Here's a terrific eleven minute summary of Focus Mode by the delightfully nasal MacSparky</a> (see footer for more on him).<br><br>
This sort of approach always struck me as feeble and childish. Silly bathroom locks. After all, I can undo any of the restraints. If I want to check my damn mail, I'm gonna check my damn mail. I have been trained over the decades to persist when my computer, for whatever reason, thwarts my will.<br><br>
But then I remembered something. I slogged about it once, titling it, only semi-ironically, <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2019/09/the-greatest-lesson-ever-taught.html">"The Greatest Lesson Ever Taught"</a>. So you'd think I'd bear it in mind. But, no! I'm painfully slow, fuzzy, and blurry (all my clarity channels into these postings). Here it is in its entirety:
<blockquote>
Earlier this year I bought a cover for my second car, an old Miata, to keep the birds from crapping all over it. It takes just one minute to easily uncover the car, and another minute to easily replace the cover after I get home.<br><br>
I have not driven the car once since.
</blockquote><BR>
<i>The MacSparky video is a hidden link, only for subscribers to MacSparky Labs. I'm revealing it with permission, plus offering a 10% discount to any Labs membership (I get nothing if you sign up) via code FRIENDSOFJIM, good until March 4, 2024). <BR><BR>
David Sparks is not the most technically expert or widest ranging of Mac pundits, but he's an unapologetic nerd who takes highly tactical and obsessive immersions into various areas of interest. To learn everything about <a href="https://learn.macsparky.com/p/shortcutsmac">automation on a Mac</a>, he's the guy. Same for <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2023/08/the-unsolved-mystery-of-storing-notes.html">Obsidian</a> (which I wrote about here). These and other topics are exhaustively covered in his various <a href="https://www.macsparky.com/fieldguides/">Field Guides</a>, the sine qua non for realms most Mac users barely scratch. This MacSparky Labs thing offers incremental updates on his various quests. Lots of quick videos of David breathlessly exulting in some new shortcut he just found or whatever. Worth a few bucks a month. <BR><BR></i>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4640470443420164863.post-24398536118697560582024-02-02T03:00:00.002-05:002024-02-02T04:45:02.262-05:00Bukowski's Problem with the World<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCwDk2IghfMFns6QEJ3Mkk7iwyiRRN9HGWKwmr3cZDslH_c1MiZqAuKZkvtO0CBwFzO5CJUGlhMyDxFo-CigAga5Vz5jQFG_7ZUx8m44nctnd7utKWtvyA62DLI0ZQMhhmcWW3bgEfbe23wqYi7-aoAd0Elpc0WrkpFSOUWFNykhbqUZ2IlrEHU7Z2Xg/s720/Bukowski.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCwDk2IghfMFns6QEJ3Mkk7iwyiRRN9HGWKwmr3cZDslH_c1MiZqAuKZkvtO0CBwFzO5CJUGlhMyDxFo-CigAga5Vz5jQFG_7ZUx8m44nctnd7utKWtvyA62DLI0ZQMhhmcWW3bgEfbe23wqYi7-aoAd0Elpc0WrkpFSOUWFNykhbqUZ2IlrEHU7Z2Xg/s600/Bukowski.jpg" id="id_f6e7_756f_7b83_640c" style="width: 600px; height: auto;"></a></div>
Smart's better than stupid, but, historically, confident smart people have been way more dangerous than confident dumb people. <br><br>
Confidence is the problem, really.<br><br>Related: consider (halfway down the page) <a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/2011/09/bubbles-slogs-and-selling-out-part-21.html" id="id_d1f2_c927_8e23_5fd6">Leff's Four Scenarios of Authority</a><div><br>
<br><i><a href="https://jimleff.blogspot.com/search/label/memes">More pontifications on social media memes</a></i>
<br><br></div>Jim Leffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00007232702717055047noreply@blogger.com0