my library
on shuffle has elicited some eye-widenings in me recently. tracks where the
lineage is so obvious that it's… surprising they even changed the
title. a sneaky spiritual cover.
KIND WORDS by Gretchen
is one, of
Horizontal Hold by This Heat. Everyone in that Calgary scene was obviously, famously inspired
by This Heat but I hadn't heard these two songs back-to-back before to
realize how direct it got. thanks shuffle.
one time I wrote a drum part for a song and was really chuffed with it and
then listened to it some time later and realized it was basically identical
to
Apocalypse Dreams by Tame Impala, so y'know, not throwing shade. inspiration is sneaky too.
simulation fibrosis
I was listening to a podcast the other night where one of the hosts
complimented Tim Urban on his knack for defining conceptual structures that
help clarify a confused subject. Unfortunately, the given example was Tim
adding Up-Down to the Left-Right political spectrum, where "up" is being
educated and rational, and "down" is being primitive and emotional.
As far as poltical compass memes go... pretty bad.1
Still. Love a good model.
Here's one I've been thinking about recently: in fiction, there's a tension
between maintaining the consistency of the universe's rules, and having the
flexibility to create suspenseful drama. Call it the Simulation-Drama axis.
A fictional work high in Simulation is Band of Brothers - a TV series
about World War II.
A fictional work high in Drama is Dragon Ball Z - an anime about alien
warriors battling one another with magic.
Band of Brothers is tightly constrained by its commitment to historical
accuracy. It's based on real events, which were highly documented, and
highly familiar to its audience of war history buffs. Dragon Ball Z has its
own constraints, but there's no objective truth like the laws of physics or
diaries of soldiers forcing the writers to keep any of their promises. If
the plot needs it, a character can come back from the dead, or do a special
move that previously only one of the other characters could do. You could
argue this dynamic is even the central promise of the show: watch DBZ to see
our characters do unbelievable things and defy expectations over and
over!4
Dragon Ball Z gets away with it because people aren't watching it to see an
accurate portrayal of a Saiyan invasion of earth. They watch it to see good
guy Goku triumph over evil, understanding that it unambiguously occupies the
Drama end of the axis.
Shows get into trouble when they exist more fluidly in the middle.
Take Star Trek.
Is Star Trek a speculative stab at humanity's best future? A stage on which
to perform 21st century morality plays? Trick question, petaQ! It's
both, but its writers over the last 60 years have all had different ideas on
what the exact split is.
This is hard to swallow if you're into the show for the Simulation: shown in
one episode that a technology works one way (which is why the episode's
obstacle is difficult to deal with) then shown in the next that it works
differently, because it would otherwise be inconvenient to the story that
the writers want to tell.5
Shields are the worst for this. Sometimes a ship can withstand multiple
ships' attacks, giving the crew time to formulate a plan and cleverly escape
danger. Sometimes they take a single shot and need to immediately surrender.
There's no consistent and satisfying explanation for why this is, leaving
the audience to invent their own reasons. In severe cases, this can stretch
the imagination so much that it rips: fans admit that it happened because
the writers needed it to, and simulation fibrosis sets in. The characters
become a little less relatable, the lessons a little less legitimate.
Because how imitable are the crew's decisions if their risk calculus is
completely random? Is it even possible to strive to be like someone who is
only alive because of plot armour? If Star Trek says we should have
principles, then I think the right way to argue this is by showing
characters who exhibit these ideals navigating difficult situations and
succeeding because of them. The self-defeating way is by showing us that
these ideals are only viable in a world that doesn't have real consequences.
Maybe this axis isn't useful. You could argue there are dozens of other,
better binaries to grade our fiction on. You could definitely argue
that nitpicking dumb plot holes in Star Trek is as much a part of the
tradition as techno-babble, and that I'm taking this way too seriously. And,
yeah, sure, but I really, really like Star Trek and it disappoints
me when an episode fell short of greatness because the writers couldn't
manage to tell a story without cheating themselves.
I don't think it's easy to fix this, but one not-actually-practicable idea I
had would be to create a computer game that simulated a galaxy with Star
Trekkish rules, play it for a while, and then write your show based on
developments that actually happened in the game. That way you're
pre-committed to a consistent, high level set of rules, but you've still got
a lot of freedom to work out the details.7
I say not-actually-practicable because I don't think any high budget TV
production would want to bind itself so tightly to such a gimmick, but maybe
it's the sort of thing that we'll be able to experiment with more as
generative AI brings the costs of animation down.
Nothing, Forever
but earnest and with warp drive. Or maybe we'll be able to bend existing
scripts with our own events and reanimate them to tell ourselves the stories
we want to be told.
There's a poetic kind of irony to that. It'll probably happen.
on “spiritual damage”
in arguments, i sometimes say “this is bad because it damages our souls.”
it's probably easier to understand what it does, which is, i think,
create a sort of rhetorically unassailable position. what are you going to
say? nuh-uh! it doesn't damage our souls! are we both just going to
assume we know exactly what the other person means by that? no.
ime people just let it slide, probably taking it as some version of “damn,
okay. ike really doesn't like this thing” but in a way that feels
like i've managed to impress my superior sensitivity upon them. i'm a person
who is concerned with humanity's preternatural wellbeing, and you are not,
so surely my position is more considerate than yours.
and what i'm realizing, that's a cheap/lazy/pointless sort of thing to do
unless i'm willing to really elaborate on what i mean. not to say that we
shouldn't contemplate our spirituality, just that said contemplations
shouldn't be used flippantly as a tool of persuasion. that's bad for our
souls.
tradcath surprise
i searched "nominalism" on youtube, hankering to listen to someone discuss
it as i ate sultana bran.
i clicked on the first video and a man sitting in front of a shelf of
leather bound books started talking to me.
i thought he seemed a bit like Philosophize This! in his manner,
except his leading example was a joke about how it's impossible to answer
simple questions like "what is a woman" without having a biology degree
these days.
sus.
the video carried on and it became clear that wasn't just a bold example.
i don't think there's much point in going through the transcript and
refuting arguments. he doesn't like nominalism because it's the ancestor of
all the gay postmodern marxist poison that's ruining our society. he claims
"nominalism can't be true" by strawmanning it with a lame thought experiment
where literal labels at a supermarket get mixed up and then talks about how
children are born realists until secular society crushes it out of their
souls. it's unserious content mill chaff for converts.
going into any more detail than that would be like doing a wordfind, which i
don't think is a good use of my time, nor is scattered & amateur tradcath
sociology. the right move, in pursuit of cereal accompaniment, is to try and
find a different video/book/text on the subject that can actually challenge
my conceptions of nominalism's strengths and weaknesses.
but before then: i wonder if i'll ever stop being surprised to learn that
other people think and say very different things from me. there are branches
on the tree of beliefs that seem so far away from my own that it's truly
difficult for me to imagine seeing the world from them.1are we seeing the same world? he might not like me saying this but
i guess this is just another one of those things that's like evolution - our
belief systems mutate and adapt to function in our environment until i'm a
seagull and he's a moose.
in a bastardized interpretation of
fitness landscapes, i've recently been thinking about how every decision i make is a step in
some direction in an infinite mountain range. in this space, my altitude
isn't environmental fitness. it's something more like "personal value" or
"amount self-actualized" where you can imagine standing at the peak of a
hill in this endless mountain range as being highly satisfied with myself,
highly engaged in my life.
some steps are uphill and take more effort. some steps are downhill and take
less. sometimes it's necessary to take a step downhill to conserve energy,
or to get to a different path on the mountain. but too many steps down and
motherfucker, you're in a depression.
watching youtube is almost always a step downhill. that in and of itself
isn't a bad thing - i really do think youtube is one of this century's
triumphs - the issue is how easily youtube turns a single step into a scree
run. i've had nights of binging youtube so bad that my eyes ached, and then
instead of stopping, i continued to watch just with one eye open at a time.
deranged.
but captivating people is youtube's job. the effectiveness of its
recommendation algorithm is what determines the size of the pie that it
divvies up and dishes out to an ecosystem of hundreds of thousands of
content creators. better recommendations = more time on youtube = more
advertisements watched = more money to go around. at no point will any of
this system's structural incentives prompt someone to say "you know what? i
think youtube's recommendations are too good. let's degrade them a
little"1
so if youtube's addictive and unlikely to change, and i will always like to
occasionally watch things on it, what is to be done?
this will hide the sidebar and the thumbnails that show up at the end of the
video: the website equivalent of moving the bowl of M&Ms that you have in
your kitchen to a jar in the cupboard. i've been doing this for a week and
the difference is extremely noticeable. i still check out my subscriptions
each day and watch videos there that catch my eye, but afterwards, i just
close the tab.2
stupor evaded, i can consider an option that might take me uphill. write,
read, play music, reply to that message, go for a walk, meditate, just
generally cultivate some fuckin' eudaimonia.
the nice thing about this is that i can also turn it off when i want. some
integral parts of my personal development were catalysed by a youtube video
i discovered hours deep in a binge, many songs i love i first heard on
random youtube mixtapes. i can still make the time for that and switch off
the filters temporarily, it just turns it into a conscious decision, not
something that happens through my focus being sapped in the middle of
something else, a process that is slowly turning us into a herd of mediocre
dilettantes.
is this just an ornate elaboration of "no pain, no gain" ? yes. have a
million people already written about how
web 2.0 makes us unhappy, actually ? yes. is this cow thing i've
got going on with the pictures ridiculous,
romantic, and self-pitying
? yes
doesn't matter. if you suspect you might be watching too much youtube to get
up the mountain, this is my recommendation.
limerick justice
the other day i had some fun with poetic justice's less serious cousin
I attached the two files and submitted the following prompt to ChatGPT 4o:
I have a CSV of users from each country, and a JSON file that shows which
continent each country belongs to.
I would like to aggregate my users by continent, so that I can see how many
users I have in total from North America, Europe, etc.
It started working on the problem immediately:
import pandas as pd
users_df = pd.read_csv('/mnt/data/users.csv')
continent_data = pd.read_json('/mnt/data/cbc.json')
To aggregate the users by continent, I'll merge the users dataframe with the
continent data based on the country and then group by the continent to get
the total users for each continent.
Here is the plan:
Merge the users_df with continent_data on the country.
continent,Users
Africa,23940
Antarctica,833
Asia,18976
Europe,22472
America,13256
Oceania,10539
South America,5300
So, if these values are correct, I'm almost certain there won't be an easier
or more convenient workflow.
But that "if" is very ominous to me. How will I be able to verify its
correctness once I've deskilled myself by outsourcing all of my
Human Intelligence Tasks?
nushell
nushell is a shell environment that
converts all stdout into structured data that can then be piped much more
consistently like a functional programming language.
ls ~/Desktop | where size > 1MiB | get name
╭───┬───────────────────────────────────────────╮
│ 0 │ /Users/ikesau/Desktop/song.wav │
│ 1 │ /Users/ikesau/Desktop/ttrpg.pdf │
╰───┴───────────────────────────────────────────╯
I love it. It balances accessibility with extensibility in a way that inspires
me to understand information. I make fewer assumptions about data now that
nushell makes it easy (and fun!) to examine things rigourously.
How does it handle an aggregation though? First I need to load the two tables:
let $c = nopen1 country-by-continent.json
let $u = nopen users.csv
these now exist in my session's scope:
$c
╭─────┬─────────────────────┬───────────────╮
│ # │ country │ continent │
├─────┼─────────────────────┼───────────────┤
│ 0 │ Afghanistan │ Asia │
│ 1 │ Albania │ Europe │
│ 2 │ Algeria │ Africa │
Now we can join them on Country-country2
and group them:
$u
| join --left $c Country country
| group-by --to-table continent
| each3 {
insert sum4 {
get items.Users | math sum5
}
| select group sum6
}
Result
╭───┬───────────────┬───────╮
│ # │ group │ sum │
├───┼───────────────┼───────┤
│ 0 │ Asia │ 18976 │
│ 1 │ Europe │ 22472 │
│ 2 │ Africa │ 23940 │
│ 3 │ Oceania │ 10539 │
│ 4 │ North America │ 13256 │
│ 5 │ Antarctica │ 833 │
│ 6 │ South America │ 5300 │
╰───┴───────────────┴───────╯
Okay, not bad. Working out how to sum nested values after grouping them took
ages - a lot of describe and reading the docs on which
data types are compatible with which functions.7
I think with a bit more practice, I would get a lot faster at writing the
pipes correctly, but I'm not a huge fan of polluting my shell history with
dozens of failed attempts in the meantime, and editing commands in the
terminal is a pain.
nushell with polars
It's worth mentioning that nushell also has a
polars plugin
which feels like a great tool for the job.8
This is a popular usecase for dataframes so finding the correct syntax was
simple.
$u
| join --left $c Country country
| polars into-df
| polars group-by continent
| polars agg [(polars col Users | polars sum)]
| polars collect
Result
╭───┬───────────────┬───────────────╮
│ # │ continent │ Users │
├───┼───────────────┼───────────────┤
│ 0 │ Antarctica │ 833 │
│ 1 │ South America │ 5300 │
│ 2 │ Europe │ 22472 │
│ 3 │ Africa │ 23940 │
│ 4 │ Asia │ 18976 │
│ 5 │ Oceania │ 10539 │
│ 6 │ │ 19175 │
│ 7 │ North America │ 13256 │
╰───┴───────────────┴───────────────╯
Aha! I was wondering if any of these methods would show the cases where we
can't map the country to a continent - presumably that's what that 19175 is -
despite the left join in the vanilla nushell method, it didn't catch this
issue.
So while we're here, let's see if we can list which countries aren't being
mapped. I don't think we need a dataframe for this.
$u
| join --left $c Country country
| where continent == null
| get Country9
| to text
Türkiye
Taiwan
Czechia
Libya
Myanmar (Burma)
Trinidad & Tobago
Bosnia & Herzegovina
Côte d’Ivoire
Kosovo
Fiji
Congo - Kinshasa
Eswatini
Isle of Man
Réunion
Jersey
Guernsey
British Virgin Islands
Curaçao
(not set)
St. Kitts & Nevis
Timor-Leste
Sint Maarten
Congo - Brazzaville
St. Helena
Turks & Caicos Islands
St. Vincent & Grenadines
Antigua & Barbuda
St. Lucia
U.S. Virgin Islands
São Tomé & Príncipe
Falkland Islands (Islas Malvinas)
Caribbean Netherlands
Micronesia
Åland Islands
St. Martin
St. Pierre & Miquelon
Vatican City
St. Barthélemy
Svalbard & Jan Mayen
U.S. Outlying Islands
Wallis & Futuna
There are some very populous countries here! This is exactly the sort of
problem with relying on ChatGPT: your ability to trust it depends on your
ability to verify it, which is only developed through experience.
DuckDB
DuckDB is a portable SQL database client.
You can run it as a transient SQL session, or use it as an engine to run SQL
scripts. I went with the latter because I prefer to write SQL in a text
editor.
Here's my scratch.sql file leveraging some cool DuckDB magic that
can work with inline references to CSV and JSON files, which I can run with
cat scratch.sql | duckdb10
SELECT
SUM(u.Users),
c.continent
FROM
'users.csv' u
LEFT JOIN 'country-by-continent.json' c
ON u.Country = c.country
GROUP BY
c.continent;
Result
┌───────────────┬──────────────┐
│ continent │ sum(u.Users) │
│ varchar │ int128 │
├───────────────┼──────────────┤
│ Europe │ 22472 │
│ South America │ 5300 │
│ Antarctica │ 833 │
│ Oceania │ 10539 │
│ North America │ 13256 │
│ Africa │ 23940 │
│ Asia │ 18976 │
│ │ 19175 │
└───────────────┴──────────────┘
This is about as easy as it can get, and I like that it's basically just plain
SQL, which is never a waste of time to practise.
Observable
Observable is a JavaScript notebook
platform with a host of features for interatively visualizing and sharing
data. There are a dozen ways I could do this aggregation with Observable,
including creating whole databases, but I'm going to go with the most
straightforward: attaching files and writing some code.
Use Observable's SQL cell to write an aggregating SQL query on the merged
data
Visualize the aggregated data (an optional nicety)
Result
Unfortunately, as far as I can tell, Observable's SQL cell doesn't allow you
to query from two tables at once11, so either you have to join your tables before you upload them, or join them
with JavaScript and query that third object.
It's all quite a lot of process for answering simple questions, but it makes
sharing your findings (and visualizing them) incredibly easy. Simon Wilson
(the creator of datasette) uses notebooks
all the time to create
quick, low-friction tools.
While I might not reach for them for the next question as simple as this, I
really like Observable as a platform and I hope they're able to keep doing
what they're doing.
At this point, the only reason I'd consider reaching for another tool is to
keep it local and/or to have Copilot support.
TypeScript with Bun
Bun allows me to run a TypeScript REPL
incredibly quickly. All I have to do is create an `index.ts` file somewhere.
bun run --watch index.ts
Now in my Copilot-supporting text editor of choice I can write up a quick
script in TypeScript.
I thought this option was going to be more pleasant! Even with Copilot, a code
editor, and a CSV parsing library, manually implementing a grouping algorithm
is a chore.
Still. When I need a REPL to test code with, using bun this way is very good.
Conclusion
I think DuckDB wins? Each technique has its strengths, but writing SQL with
Copilot, with automatic JSON/CSV handling is about as practical and quick as
it gets.
(modern) five-colour pirates
yu-gi-oh was so smart. transformers had already proven you could forcibly
extract money from parents by pretending your advertisements for children's
toys comprised a television show, but hasbro still had to pay for injection
moulding. what if they just printed the money instead?
in the yu-gi-oh tv show1,
the main thing that all the characters do is play the card game
yu-gi-oh2.
all disagreements are resolved via dueling3, and even though this is shown to
favour the rich, at the end of most episodes the child protagonists justly
win and you feel an urge to go to the toy store and purchase yu-gi-oh cards.
the show was transitional, a ratcheting down of my unlimited childhood
imagination to something more grounded in the real world. not that it was
completely tethered to reality. beyond the porn-levels of plot to justify
the action, in the beginning, the writers of the show didn't really
understand the rules of the game - the early duels feature flagrant rules
violations and completely hallucinated mechanics. nevertheless, i loved it.
the writers were right in one sense: the rules were unimportant4
to illustrate this, my childhood best friend and i had sheets of cardstock
that we would make our own cards with. Shadow Dragon, Night Dragon, Dark
Dragon, Lightning Dragon, Dark Lightning Dragon. i wish i had them still. we
didn't make any spell cards. all that mattered was that your cards had cool
(dragon) names and drawings (of dragons) and that you didn't have
too many cards that were stronger than anything in the show. that
was another implicit rule that actually mattered - dramatic suspense
requires unpredictability. even as eight-year olds we understood that our
make-believe yu-gi-oh would make no sense if we were completely overpowered.
and so the show got us all the way through the funnel but wasn't able to
convert. to us, it wasn't where the cards came from or if we'd paid for
them. it was if they were fun to play with.
skip forward 8 years and i'm in high school playing magic the gathering with
my friends. magic was the inspiration for yu-gi-oh, released in 1993, the
first trading card game of its kind. by now the game has a pro scene, a
janky official computer game, and a thriving secondary market where people
buy individual cards to construct decks with. blah blah. you can just read
this
new york times article on the history of magic
if you care about this stuff.5
my four friends and i were buying cheap cards online. we didn't have much
money, and shipping from the U.S. was expensive. this balanced our group,
because no one could afford the really powerful cards.6. we each had one deck until that got old then someone bought a new one and
we'd play all the matchup permutations we could until it got boring enough
for the cycle to repeat. over two years i spent maybe $300 doing this.
eventually i moved and sold my cards to a game store for $50. i stopped
thinking about magic much at all.
but now it's now. i've been thinking about magic again. i pitched the idea
to my girlfriend, we got some introductory decks, and we had a hell of a
time! it's a fun game! then the call of new cards began. familiar with where
it led, i started to contemplate the alternative: all the cards are
available as jpegs online. why not just use a home printer and scissors for
the cards i want? a little budget cutting could save me a lot of money!
why doesn't everyone do this?
i searched the internet a little to try and find an answer, but didn't see
anyone explain the complete incentive structure as i've come to understand
it.
it helps to understand that proxy magic is a mix of forgery and piracy:
forgery denotes that the value of the object comes from people believing it
to be authentic, whereas piracy is about stealing7a thing that has instrumental value. this isn't an airtight distinction,
but it explains the psychology of, say, branded clothes quite well.8 a large part of the value of
having a shirt with a brand logo on it is to show people that you can afford
the shirt with the logo on it. and if you're caught wearing a fake, you need
to be called out by the people who've paid the full price because otherwise
you'll dilute the esteem they get.
the thing is, i don't give a SHIT about what people think about how much
paper i have tied up in my cardboard - i'm all about that instrumental
value. i just want to play magic.
but like with branded clothes, it's in many people's interests to not let me
do this: magic is a trading card game. new cards enter circulation is
through gambling on packs of 15 cards and trading them.910gambling is addictive and people get hooked on pulling rare mythics,
rationalized by the lie that they're developing a portfolio which will
appreciate. this in turn, fuels a speculative secondary economy in which
local game stores invest in inventory to try and make profit on the
fluctuations of card prices.11
all of this depends on us agreeing that we need to pay money for magic
cards, because upstream is the fact that hasbro needs to pay
mark rosewater. if he stops getting paid, he'll stop designing new cards and then
there'll be no new releases, no hype cycle, no profit margin for local game
stores, no magic journalists, no sponsorship deals from companies that make
playmats, no tournaments to fill event centres. if people stop cracking
packs, the house of cards will come crashing down. people who have bought
into the game have internalized this logic and will probably try to police
you if you bring forgeries into any place that has a commercial interest in
magic.
but i'm not interested in going to any of those places. i just want to play
kitchen table, so is there any other reason not to use proxies? so far, the
only negative i've found is that when every card is free, it's tempting to
print some of the really strong expensive decks and these are actually less
fun to play. a deck that performs well in the pro scene needs to be very
consistent, which makes the experience of playing them kind of monotonous.
still. i'm glad i didn't pay $500 to learn that lesson.
thus, arbitrarily, self-servingly, i'm okay with being a
free-rider. there are 30,000 unique magic cards. if enough people join me and bring
hasbro to financial demise, there will still be plenty of jpegs to go
around. anarchic homebrew magic would still exist (even though i admit it
would probably never be as well-designed and cohesive as the game is today)
and if people really wanted, i'm sure mark rosewater and co. could start a
new patreon-funded organization to design copyleft cards indefinitely.
would that work? i have no idea, but it'll never happen as long as magic
exists in its current form, so i'll happily play the game for free until we
maybe one day find out.
sounding smart
a classic thing that happens is someone says "i think the reason is blah"
and then another person says "i think it's something else" and then a third
person says "it's a bit of both" or "it's somewhere in between" or something
like that.
it's such a reliable thing to be able to say and it takes so little effort,
yet you can sound quite wise saying it. oh shit! it's both things?
i'm not trying to be derisive. it's just a fact of how conversation often
works. it's like the rule of threes in comedy. it has to be three
things because if you only have two things then there's no expectations to
subvert.
euclid could have put it in the elements. look:
when three people at a party undertake the great pastime of trying to work
out what the fuck is going on, one person will eventually propose their
theory. someone else will then disagree in some way and suggest an
alternative. then the Canny Third Person swoops in.
"I see the disagreement you two are having. Allow me:
it's a bit of both."
"Oh, sick! Thanks, man!"1
no one is trying to be bullheaded in this process. it's just how these sorts
of conversations have to be staked out. the mechanisms of the world are
multifactorial, but no First Guy with a shred of compassion is going to
enumerate their complex 10-factor weighted model of Blah to two strangers.
they're going to say what they think the main factor is. then the Second Guy
will dilligently remind them of the second main factor and how it's equally
if not more important. then you step in and moderate and eventually we hone
in on the amount of truth we have the patience to find.
or, you can instead make this meta observation about the mechanics of
dialectics and
really shut shit down.
party on.
food
i realised recently that there are at least two ways in which we ask the
question "is x a y?"
it was when i asked "is Terminator a monster?" which is the sort of question
i like to ask, to get into all the necessary-but-not-sufficients of dumb
shit conceptual analysis.
does a monster need to be biological, or more fundamentally, not
understood? are all monsters morally permissible to kill?
there is a tweet that responded to
Chess Is Not A Game by Deborah P. Vossen
that i can't find. it said something to extent of "What the author fails to
consider is that chess is, in fact, a game." because the other way we ask
these sorts of questions is the Family Feud way. if you surveyed one hundred
people with "Name a monster" - zero of them would say Terminator. they would
say Dracula or Zombie or Frankenstein. and so in that sense, Terminator is
not a monster. it is important to be considerate of your friends and realise
this, when asking these sorts of questions.
but... y'know... if a new Terminator film came out that played with this
idea, and used a lot of monster movie tropes, and it was a huge success,
maybe twenty years from now a few people would think of the T-800 instead of
Dracula.
( if you're enjoying reading this so far you should read this newsletter
post on a similar idea which writing an inline image joke just reminded me
of )
a classic mistake people make is believing that the groups denote
something as real as the things themselves. This is why I’m no fun when
people ask shit like, “Is a hot dog a sandwich?” I know it’s a joke
question. But what do you people want from me? Oh, let me contemplate
the Platonic ideal of sandwich, which definitely exists, and then get
back to you. I just don’t think that’s how language works. “Sandwich” is
a word we deploy in specific situations to effect communication; it is a
concept we have invented in order to do things. I don’t know if a hot
dog is a sandwich, man; what I do know is that if you asked me for a
sandwich and I brought you a hot dog, the likelihood that you’d be
confused or irritated is higher than it would be if I brought you a
PB&J. Does that mean a hot dog is only 70% of a sandwich? Angels on a
goddamn pinhead, I tell you.
anyway. the reason i'm mentioning all this is because i just got back from a
trip and an underappreciated way in which new places feel different is food.
food is, of course, one of the top answers on the board for the Family Feud
version of the question "Why do different countries feel different?".
i mean supermarket food.
yes, restaurant food in different countries is different too, but i think
this means less when travelling in The West as i just did. every restaurant
in my city already tries to distinguish itself with its menu and branding
such that when taken together, they all collapse into a single category of
"good restaurants" that is no different from any other western city's. some
cities have
a restaurant that is uniquely good
that mine doesn't have, but that doesn't move the needle overall as to why
one city will feel different. i imagine this argument breaks down when
visiting a place with vastly different restaurant norms such as japan,
though i have not been there, so i don't know.
but as for a supermarket in a western city, i go to mine most days. i'm
effectively doing spaced repitition on a thousand brands and products, the
gestalt of which is a sensation of image-culture that isn't distributed
anywhere else in the world. of course it's still all the same stuff:
cereals, bread products, tomato sauces. what matters is that every label is
different from the labels of the cereals, bread products, and tomato sauces
that i've familiarised myself with over years of listing around the aisles
of my local.
new town, new supermarket. nothing's in the right place. everything
seems to have been misplaced.
it also contains all the food that i actually most often eat, that i will
tend to eat less of when i'm not home.
so if you're back from a long trip and trying to get grounded again, go to
the supermarket