My thoughts articulated via a shitty blog

It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.

Some days, it seems to me like the purpose of life is to convert energy into beauty.

An imaginary conversation with Lebron James. Hi Lebron James, so what do you do for a living? “I insert spheres into cylinders!” Wow, that sounds extremely tedious and probably not very lucrative. “Actually it’s incredibly fun and I make millions of dollars.” Huh. I wouldn’t have thought that job pays well.

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Hank, we choose what we care about, and while there are better and worse choices, I would argue that caring about sports has nothing to do with Lebron James or participatory geometry. Ultimately, it’s about community. I’d argue that caring about sports is actually a lot like caring about Harry Potter or Dungeons and Dragons or Nerdfighteria. Caring about stuff binds us to the other people who care about that stuff, and that creates the communities that make life worth living.

The pathetic things I wanted to say to him on the phone—but didn’t—was this: When you’re a little kid, you have something. Maybe it’s a blanket or a stuffed animal or whatever. For me, it was this stuffed prairie dog that I got one Christmas when I was like three. I don’t even know where they found a stuffed prairie dog, but whatever, it sat up on its hind legs and I called him Marvin, and I dragged Marvin around by his prairie dog ears until I was about ten.

And then at some point, it was nothing personal against Marvin, but he started spending more time in the closet with my other toys, and then more time, until finally Marvin became a full-time resident of the closet.

But for many years afterward, sometimes I would get Marvin out of the closet and just hang out with him for a while—not for me, but for Marvin. I realized it was crazy, but I still did it.

And the thing I wanted to say to Tiny is that sometimes I feel like his Marvin.

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I think about how much depends on a best friend. When you wake up in the morning you swing your legs out of bed and you put your feet on the ground and you stand up. You don’t scoot to the edge of the bed and look down to make sure the floor is there. The floor is always there. Until it’s not.

when things break, it’s not the actual breaking that prevents them from getting back together again. it’s because a little piece gets lost — the two remaining ends couldn’t fit together even if they wanted to. the whole shape has changed.