I emailed Oprah...

Funny isn't it? Why should I think that Oprah would really care about the aspirations of an erstwhile success of a man? (This is more an exaggeration than not, as I was only a visitor and observer in elite circles- and that likely they justified because of my talent for their amusement) None of the work I have posted is my best (because most of the iceberg can't just float above the surface, since frozen water is more dense than liquid water) and as such could only work to justify her most likely response to the email (no response at all). But why post such a self-deprecating diatribe? Because it is motivation. I will see the day when the writer becomes me. Until then, let this serve as proof that I called out to at least one luminary from within the plane before I rose out of it, and this post will from that point on be for the pure enjoyment of my accomplished self. Goodnight.

From Outlier to Reality to Everyone

Even though he stood smack dab in the middle of the aisle, caught in a reverie of self-deprecating debauchery, no one in the busy supermarket bothered to interrupt him. Shopper after shopper politely maneuvered the relatively new carts deftly around his large frame, always missing even the slightest possibility of touching him, even though to touch him now might be to save him from himself. They’d rather err on the side of caution, for he had the look of a psychopath what with the clothes he wore and the way his eyes seemed transfixed in his face,

"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down." - Woody Allen

Abstract Concreteness/ Life In The Matrix

And the drumbeat we marched to was steady, always set to the pace of innovation- itself constantly improving its capacity to move us; today, our destination was a better world They told us existed in the cloud- one monolithic colossus that only allowed for variance in a very superficial way, for All here was ultimately an elaborate fabrication of zeroes and ones anyways, right? We are all just prisoners here, why not enjoy ourselves and leave the heavy lifting to those large enough to lift heavy things?

 

 

 

Don't waste time ogling these great looking guys when you could be reading and enjoying their ideas! Welcome to my younger brother Ben Law, the first contributing writer to the blog! I know the road has been long and sparse so far, but today we've realized ourselves again as writers and now will continue to try to share the fruits of our labors with you, here. If you've been here since the beginning, thank you! If you're just joining us for the first time please enjoy and participate! Bon appetite!

Best,
Booker and Benjamin Law

Inviolate Distinctiveness

I used to think nothing of writing but that it was enabled by tools; tools that time would nullify the writer’s monopoly of. I was degraded by the sensation that technology would make writers of us all.

The Substance Of Despair

There are moments in time I’d like to return to, just as one who finds an activity he likes would make a hobby of it. But, this feeling has as its only possible end the evocation of yet another of life’s abiding sorrows-