Category: General Gabbing

A variety of delighting sights; a smattering of happenings; a compendium of concepts…

Clown School Break Day 46: Trivia ain’t Trivial 

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In which Our Hero leads a team to victory! 

My team won at trivia. Thirty percent of trivia is assembling the right team. Thirty percent of trivia is knowing the right answers. Thirty percent of trivia is accurately knowing your knowledge. And the last thirty percent is knowing how to give 120%. 

In the team-assembling category, my team excels at movies, science, games, literature, and mythology. We are weak at sports. This week, there was only one sports question rather than an entire sports section. That’s lucky.  

In knowing the right answers, we performed strong. We missed only 6 of the 22 questions. While that might sound like a lot (it’s almost a third!), our big advantage is in the next point… 

We know what we know. When one of my teammates says “I know this one”, we bet hard. Today’s trivia involves a point-wagering system: for each round of three questions, you assign one a small number of points, one a medium number, and one a large number. You submit your point wager when you submit the question, before you know what all the questions in the round are. So a team that gets only one third of the answers right can equal a team that gets two thirds of the answers right, so long as the first team assigns points correctly and the second does not. 

And then there’s knowing how to give 120%. When we know the answer is “Mississippi mud [something]” and my team is waffling between Mississippi mudslide and Mississippi mud pie, Your Humble Narrator (in his acting role as Team Captain) submits the answer as “Mississippi mud (pie)”. Ergo, when the answer is revealed to be Mississippi mud *cake*, Our Hero’s team receives the point. (Deservedly? That’s not mine to judge; I’m just here to get points.) This gamesmanship also manifested in Your Hero’s tracking of the points (so as to note that we were shorted 2 points in the theme round, and then get those reinstated). 

And I guess one final part: uniting people to a purpose. Trivia is not important. We’re fighting for a $30 giftcard when our table is spending twice that. This doesn’t matter. 

But it’s fun to try. 

Clown School Break Day 45: What is Fun? 

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What is fun? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more. 

Yesterday night I played a bit of poker, then stopped. 

I wasn’t obviously playing poorly. 

I just wasn’t enjoying it. 

What is fun? 

Why is poker more fun when you’re winning? 

Part is the monetary aspect: it’s not enjoyable to lose money. And while the monetary aspect in this case is not large enough to be life-affecting, it’s still relevant to the pleasure. 

Poker is an intellectual exercise that I enjoy attempting to do well. It’s fun circumstance in which I strive to do something properly. That’s part of the joy that I get from sharing my hands with a professional poker playing friend: the interestingness of improving. 

It’s also a naturally exhilarating game. You can play well – perfectly, even – and still lose. 

Is fun just the distraction from suffering? That’s the etymology of at least one french word and one spanish word for fun. 

If so, are the times when I stop enjoying poker the times when it becomes too serious? When I’m taking it with too much heaviness? (Alternate hypotheses: my suffering outside of poker is too great for the distraction to work, or I’m not suffering enough outside of poker so the distraction doesn’t give me additional pleasure.) 

I think it’s closer to: I’m feeling fear. I don’t enjoy poker when I’m feeling a lot of fear. When the fear prevents me from playing well, I stop enjoying the poker. I clam up and that’s no good. 

Solutions: 

  1. Don’t play poker games where the stakes cause me to feel fear. 
  2. When you feel fear, notice it’s fear. Then put it in its place and make the right decision.

Amusingly enough, when I wrote that my today’s pokerplaying went from playing my B game to my A game. That’s nice! 😀 

Clown School Break Day 44: The Power from Pain

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In which Our Hero notes the ways that behaviors cover emotions

I might have hurt my pec muscle while lifting weights earlier. Immediately after, I was more fun and entertaining than I’ve been during this entire trip (to see friends over the last week). Is this causal? I think maybe. 

When something is on my mind, it’s much easier to do something else. It’s almost a distraction. In pain? Be entertaining. I read an article on professional comics that said something like “many comics are feeling a lot of pain/sadness when they’re being most entertaining”. (Per this article: “British comedian Stephen Fry confessed to the common mental state he experiences when performing; “there are times when I’m doing QI and I’m going ‘ha ha, yeah, yeah’, and inside I’m going ‘I want to fucking die. I… want… to… fucking… die.'”) 

It was nice to arrive at recognizing that pain and fear. It’s never pleasant to be afraid for one’s body or health. (I should note that the concern is not a big one: if it’s injured in a meaningful way, odds are very high it’s only minor and will resolve itself over the next week or two.) 

It’s also just a fact of life that my failure makes me better elsewhere. Like I’m distracting myself / compensating for something. 

Perhaps that’s

just how

it is 

🤡

Clown School Break Day 43: Patina (Guestpost)

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In which Our Hero shares a guest post with a beautiful finish. 

My partner wrote this personal essay yesterday. She insists it’s about countertops. I sense a clown-like metaphor. 

–

I’ve been learning about kitchen counters. I’m redoing the kitchen in the home I plan to raise my kids in. 

I enjoy cooking. I grew up with a butcher block kitchen island. The wood is soft, warm, and inviting. I haven’t gotten that feeling from granite; tile’s got awful groutlines to clean, and fake stone looks fake. The wood does require some babying. If you place a hot pan on it, it might scorch. It’s also liable to stain and isn’t really germ-safe if you don’t maintain it – bacteria from meat can multiply in the wood if it’s not sealed well.

Soapstone feels more idiot proof. The stone is soft, warm, and inviting. Chemistry labs use it since you can actually light it on fire with no ill effects. I’ve done it – accidentally. It doesn’t stain or etch and is too solid for germs to permeate. It does, however, scratch and dent. I was worried this would stress me out.

People call this wear a “patina.” Think of the way a leather wallet ages. There’s a darkening around the spot you keep your cards. There are a few lighter scratches from altercations with your keys.

The patina is only visual. It doesn’t affect the functionality.

I think unintentional staining of a butcher block countertop could be considered a patina, but it indicates that the surface isn’t sealed properly and may invite germs. That’s indicative of functionality. But, honestly, I don’t put raw meat straight on the counter anyway.

I’ve been trying to figure out which things matter and which don’t. Before you try to hyperoptimize a process, be sure you’re actually optimizing for the thing you care about and not a correlate. Most things might actually be patina.

I remember making a crepe cake with my sister a decade ago – layers of crepes and whipped cream. She wasn’t layering the cream on evenly, so the cake wasn’t going to be even. I got mad at her for messing it up. Honestly, no one was going to care that the cake wasn’t perfectly level. People enjoyed it just the same.

My partner has started cooking with me. I love it. It’s a great way to spend time together – a collaborative craft that ends with something tasty – if I don’t hold too tightly to perfection. He doesn’t chop the carrots to all exactly the same size. The stew’s still been delectable; the chopping: half the duration of doing it alone; the company: impeccable.

Some parts don’t matter. Some parts do.

When we made carbonara, he was afraid of the bacon grease. I told him the splatters would sting, but were unlikely to create a large enough burn that would matter. It might hurt, but you won’t notice the next day. I expressed appropriate caution and reverence for handling the pasta pot full of burning water: that could fuck up the rest of your life.

I’m trying to get better at separating functionality from patina. The parts that matter from the parts that don’t.

I got my braces off recently. They gave me an invisalign retainers. I take them out when I eat. For a while I wouldn’t put them back in until after I brushed my teeth. I was great about this for three days, then lazy and would just not put them back in. I didn’t want to get tartar on them. I wore them less. I could see that my bottom teeth were shifting. Keeping my teeth in place is more important than keeping my invisalign clean. I’m now wearing them more.

My one-year-old niece has gotten into stickers. It’s adorable to watch her pick them out, peel them off, and choose who to give them to. I’ve got a few favorites on my phone case. They remind me of her and make me smile. I forgot one on a shirt recently. Some combination of the washer and dryer have embedded the adhesive to the shirt. Now it permanently reminds me of her.

I’m learning to enjoy the patina. 

I’m interested in learning to visibly mend clothing. To make the holes and mistakes into something fun and creative. To make the whole piece beautiful.

I’d like my kids to ding up the counter as we learn to cook together. To make a patina of memories. I want them to make mistakes. Scratch the counters. Learn and improve.

If we need to sell the place, we can always sand down the counters so the new owners can start over. No permanent damage. No limitations in functionality. Patina.

Clown School Break Day 42: Making Spades for Poker Pros(pectors)

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In which Our Hero stumbles upon something interesting… 

My partner wants to improve at poker. She 1) has the sort of mind that could be very good at the game, and 2) wants to improve her comfort in situations where she makes the right decision but the outcome turns out bad. [She also 3) wants to improve her comfort in situations where she made the wrong decision and the outcome comes out bad.] 

We watched some theory videos together today. It was very fun. I enjoyed it. I’m excited for more! 

–

My partner asks whether there exist little poker drills, à la “hit the ball at this bucket” in tennis, so you can have fun while learning the skill. I said I didn’t know any. 

We therefore invented a way to teach a particular, very-important poker skill in a manner that’s actually fun. Perhaps we will expand this, refine it, and share it with others! 

… and I built an app for it! More info to come… 🙂 

Clown School Break Day 41: Grocery Store Juggling

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In which our Hero keeps balls in the air. 

Grocery stores are for whimsy.

Listen:

At the grocery store to purchase oranges for non-alcoholic New Year’s mimosas, I tossed oranges toward my partner so she could catch them in the plastic bag. A simple game; a fun game; a game that hurts no one.

My partner caught the first one.

A store employee approached us.

My partner caught the second one.

The employee stood beside us, continuing to watch.

My partner missed the third one. (I shorted the toss.) She retrieved the orange and placed it in the bag.

“Could I ask you to do something?” the clerk said.

“Sure,” I replied, expecting him to tell us to stop. I had expected him to tell us to stop since the moment I saw him walking over.

“I had cataract surgery recently. Could you toss me one of those oranges? I want to see if I can catch it.”

“Sure,” I said. “Tell me when.”

“Now’s good.”

I tossed the orange. He caught it. His face released sunlight it had been holding back for years.

“I used to juggle three balls,” he said. “Not well, but I could keep ‘em in the air. Then cataracts got to me. It’s good to be back.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I didn’t want to ask a friend to toss me something. That would be too intimate. So I figured I’d ask a stranger.”

“Glad I could help.”

My partner and I returned to our toss-and-catch with the oranges. We purchased six pounds of oranges and drove home.

Too often, we stop playing out of fear that someone will tell us to stop, when all they wanted was to play along.

Clown School Break Day 40: New Year’s Eve

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In which Our Hero ends one thing and starts another

I used to celebrate New Year’s. I still do, but I used to, too.

I used to celebrate with friends and video games and shenanigans and chicanery. But the host of that party died a few years ago. And I don’t live in that city anymore.

Now, I celebrate with non-alcoholic cocktails and card games with friends.

I jumped into the new year — off a couch at 11:59:59 and onto the floor at 12:00:00 — just like I did as a kid.

Ritual matters. Arbitrary ritual matters. It’s also arbitrary. It still matters.

Celebrating the end of one thing and the beginning of something new. Doing so at some approximately-reasonable interval. 

I often think about the idea that somewhere someone is having the best day of their life. That applies even more to years. Somewhere, many someones just concluded the best year of their life. And many other someones are entering the best year of theirs.

The same is also true of the worst years.

There’s no point to this musing, but it makes me feel more centered. More relaxed. Less grabbing or pushing.

It makes the days more enjoyable. And that’s perhaps the whole point. 

🤡

Clown School Break Day 39: Likeability

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In which Our Hero, like, likes likability?

I was speaking earlier today with a friend who is a very polarizing figure. I am also a polarizing figure, but much less than him. He is often right, but also often disliked. The sort of person who is correct about the mismanaging of funds in an organization, but when he raises this to general public awareness, ends up somehow getting kicked out of the organization. 

This friend also has described me as “a bit of a people-pleaser”. (Which is amusing because most people would not describe me that way.) 

Clowning is about being liked. Clowns are lowest common denominator performers. They find pleasure and share pleasure in a mass-market, pre-language, pre-thought way. 

Clowns are excellent at a specific veneer. Not a substance, but a manner. Pleasure, joy: these are good things. But they’re not everything. Clowns (and actors in general) are emotional salespeople. Models are to fashion as clowns are to pleasure as actors are to emotions. 

I respect clowns and actors (and I also respect salespeople). But being a clown or an actor is completely unrelated (and sometimes antithetical) to many other virtues. For example, clowns are anti-intellectual. Clever jokes – at least at this school – are undesired. 

Perhaps pleasure is just the first step. Acting/performing might begin with finding your pleasure and sharing your pleasure with the audience, but it’s not the end. The end includes having a message or somesuch. 

I think this particular school is teaching a valuable skill. I also think that the implementation of it in its purest form – through clowning or through acting – doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather have valuable things to share, not just share them well.

Clown School Break Day 38: An Enjoyable Scene

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In which Our Hero enjoys his people

It’s nice to be in community. I’m visiting some friends in the Northwest. I’ve lived with them for a month or two each of the past two years. If I could tolerate their city, I might live here. We cook, play games, banter. I’d enjoy co-parenting with them.

I’d like the same in New York. I hunch I can do so. I prefer New York. Better weather (Portland seems to almost always be cold and wet), more activity, greater life. I like the vibrancy and culture.

—

I exercised today for the first time in four weeks. Stationary bike. 30mins. Watched an episode of The Bear. My friends and family recommended this show to me back when it came out. Sometimes I’m reticent at the outset but then end up loving it. I wish I would accept it sooner. (But also I just don’t watch much tv / movies.)

—

I spent dinner with eight friends. I like these people. It’s very nice. I’d like more.

We talked about AI and clown school. I think clowning is a skill AI won’t replace. At least the very human act of finding pleasure and sharing it. 

But people have already invented mind- and mood-affecting drugs. What’s the real difference? 

Clown School Break Day 37: Social Place

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In which Our Hero remains visible without belonging. 

Let’s talk about social place. 

In 2018, I bought a van. My most formative non-familial relationship was ending, and I was on a personal journey. 

I spent seven years seeking my place. Living in a van, driving around. My place had been shattered, my foundation upended. I sought the right group of people, the right social place. 

I found the regional Burning Man community. Not the community at the big Burning Man festival itself, but the smaller independent organizations that circle the same principles. I found, perhaps for the first time, a community that accepted me and to which I wanted to contribute. I made art that touched people’s lives. Some of them still speak about it, 5+ years later. 

I moved to New York City in search of a partner. Nearing 30, with my friends all partnering and beginning to spawn, my situation became one of “Is this a part of life you want to have? Because you can seek it later… but it’s much easier if you try now.” One woman broke my heart. I flew to Australia to write a play. Returning to New York a year later, I met my now-partner.  Our first date was 11 days long. For our second date, we drove across the country together. She sublet her apartment, and joined me in nomadicness for the last 2 years. 

I wonder sometimes about social place. I occupy an unusual position. Enough of a dilettante in most areas to be able to hold my own. Friendly and affable, generally found to be helpful, but without roots. 

For most of my childhood, I had a single dedicated friend. Schoolwork was trivial; most of my fellow students I found uninteresting. I’ve left each major experience with some dedicated friends. And a host of pleasant acquaintances, too. 

I’ve never really been a group guy. I have the sort of preference: “Instead of camping with your Burning Man group, how about I camp next to you and we hang out every day?”

If part of life is finding who you are and doing it on purpose, 

at some point it’s worth accepting that I’ve never found a group to be home. 

And probably never will. 

Perhaps my belonging is episodic, relational, and lateral (not collective). 

Still, sometimes it feels lonely.