Your Money or Your Life is a how-to guide to financial independence– really, to never needing to work again. It takes a very holistic approach, trying to heal our attitudes toward money. And as a result, it’s “steps” can be pretty daunting. Part A of step 1 is to determine how much money you’ve made in your whole lifetime (first penny to last paycheck). The other steps include determining how much your job costs you, keeping track of every cent you spend, and estimating how happy those cents make you.

I worked through it once, a few years ago, and it was pretty enlightening. But I fell off the cart before very long. I want to give it another try. Does anyone want to do it with me? I’ll buy you the book!

We’d work independently, but share our experiences, and keep on each others backs to do all the steps. And we’d let ourselves be brutally honest about how we use money in our lives. Tell me if you think you’re interested!

I’m back from traipsing around Montreal!

Half the people who said they’d be there chickened out. But Claudia and her S.O., Matt, were couchsurfing, so the three of us hung out with a neat variety of people. Most nights ended at a couchsurfer’s, chatting, listening to good music, and smoking. Anything less than a purse full of pot is legal there, and if you don’t want to go to the park for it, delivery guys will come to you with pockets of anything that might interest you. So, yeah, lots of smoking.

Canadians are incredible! Their liberal government is no chance; if the government is doing things wrong, they never just take it. They clog the phone lines with auto-dialers, slash officials’ tires, put rats in the statehouse– up to the limit that they won’t hurt someone (I’ve never felt so safe in a big city). And in return, the police don’t really investigate direct action crimes, and the government does no more than fine. A friend of mine made the mistake of calling their health care “socialized medicine”. The response was proud: “Don’t use the right-wing term! We have Universal Health Care. I pay my taxes so that no one will be denied the care they need.” People in Montreal work 20-30 hours a week. If you work 40, they’ll tell you you’ve got chill out or you’ll miss out. And cafes that sell non-fair-trade coffee go out of business.

Montreal’s shopping scene is pretty spectacular too. The streets are filled with unique little shops, with fantastic window displays, eclectic collections, and fun curators (if I can use that word). There was a sex shop and a head shop that actually had good clothing collections. The food, the neat buildings and architecture, the contemporary art museum, the endless cafes (including a couple art cafes), the live music, were all great– but you should go see for yourself.

From the sounds of it, Montreal is the wildest place in the world, for about two months (mid -June through mid-August). You can’t throw a stick without tripping over a festival. I suggest going then, but more than that, I suggest going! It’s only 4-7 hours away (car vs. bus), and every corner is worth turning.

I had a fabulous time, despite missing out on most of the famed nightlife. Montreal’s weekend is Thursday through Sunday. I arrived Sunday night, while the biggest rave in the Americas was romping behind hundred-dollar tickets (I didn’t go). I left Thursday evening. Both ways, the bus was absolutely full, and I was one of the last people on (last person on, going)… but I didn’t get advance tickets and it didn’t matter.

No trip would be complete without personal realizations. First, that there’s no way to beat couchsurfers for learning about a city. Montreal is an incredibly distinctive city, but I would have missed out on all the interesting parts (the people parts) if it weren’t for them. Second, that economic forces dominate and devour the world, washing out Montreal’s old city and once-distant suburbs alike. Fortunately, my Travelers’ Network business has the potential to put an end to that, with various pareconic ideals. Last, that I’m an appalling snob, I think (I’m not sure– do you think so?). I don’t feel like one inside, but I think I act like one and just cover for it (to myself and others). I’m sorry, I’ll work on it.

Basilica Notre-Dame	Place d’Armes	River with Dome
Mont Royal Park	Typical Montreal Street	The Whole City, Dark

Want to come to Montreal in a couple weeks???

I’m going there March 23 – 29 (or thereabouts), loosely in conjunction with three different pairs of MIT friends. You should come with me!

I’m not looking for a big group, but depending on who’s interested and in what, I can make any arrangements. I’m most interested in just bouncing around the city, playing by ear: some sightseeing, some nightlife, eating good food, wearing funny hats, trying to speak French, maybe some couchsurfing.

According to wikitravel, Montreal “has an inordinate number of attractive, fashionably dressed people.” And if you’re worried about the cold, we can spend time exploring their 18 miles of tunnels. So get in touch with me already, if you’re interested. Or if you have recommendations!

I’ve heard rumblings of a Rocky trip, but I forget who rumbled or if it’d already happened. Anyone know those plans?

Death is Zeno’s paradox forever!

Maybe it’s obvious, but I just realized it. And no one be worried by a guy’s inebriated musings.

The rationale has two points. First, the edge of all things, seen at a close enough scale, is very fuzzy. In fact, it follows a half-life decay. There’s no edge to a couch, at the thread level, or the crashing of a teacup into a floor, in microseconds. There is no point at which it “ends”. Second, the brain gets four minutes of electrical activity after the rest of the body has shut down. The synapses of your brain keep firing, and your brain keeps thinking.

Think how it would happen. The event happens– like a heart attack, you feel the impending doom as your body piece-by-piece trips over itself, and you realize what happened, what is happening. There’s some pain, but it doesn’t take long. And then it stops, except for a dull ache, that you don’t realize at first is dull enough to ignore. It’s even a little warm and cozy.

You realize, “I’m here, but I’m stuck! I’ve got to open my eyes and fight back, or at least say my final words. What did I want to say? About love? Oh!” You dash about, straining to move your dead muscles, and eventually resort to just trying to give some sign that you’re still here. And eventually you realize that, no, you really are trapped.

The red-hot anger flares up, but soon it’s sifted into pure sadness– or maybe it comes the other way around. Why did it have to happen now, at the height of your life (though you never thought about it that way) with so much left undone? By what idiocy am I here?! I wish I could yell! Or say something. To anyone, or anything. Or that it would at least just end.

Your head slowly starts spinning with the ramifications. This is the eternal end. What was that religion your parents talked about? What if it’s all true, even the silly parts. Did it matter now? Maybe, but… is that a light you see? You throw yourself into a religious fervor. Oh, the warmth, just like you heard about! There’s the feeling of oneness! Wait– is that a figure? Is it God? No, it’s someone else. Oh, mom, I’ve wanted to see you so long! And you’re not alone: my relatives, past loves, lost friends!!! It’s like a dream, and you have long conversations with each one, and try to right some social wrongs and tell them who you were. And something else is with them.

Before you realize that you’re just faking it. You’re alone, still trapped in your head, with no one but yourself for company. This is as bad as those times you convinced yourself you were floating. You’re still here, you’re still dead, and time’s running out.

You can feel it running out– you start to lose touch with the whole idea that you were a body to begin with. You realize that even your brain is swiftly dying.

But it’s been so long. Or has it just been seconds, since the event? You realize that time and space have no meaning for you, nor anything you could say or do, in this new world around you. It’s a world you could make anything inside, and try to stay there until infinity, but it’d be a sham. And nothing would change the fact that you’re over.

But these are your last moments! You rally to the call, and began to chant the greatest idea of your being. Maybe your name at first. But what a fool, what a con, what lost possibility. But you know that doesn’t matter. What matters is your being– your very individual-ness, from the big scar to the dopey voice. Being. Being… The word starts to sound forced, as your army of shouters grows thinner. Not being. No, everything is your spirit– your drive, your passion… whatever that was. You can’t really remember, but you know that’s not the point. Spirit? Still not right; it’s something bigger than you. And it’s also the Others, so wonderful. And the world, the universe. Something greater. Really huge. And very orange.

The all is orange-oranging, you slowly realize. And you cast around for the word. How long have you been here?

The orange! No, the word. The word? The what?

That… (and you know it)

This…

…

.

You reach into eternity.

Fridays have become my new favorite day for an evening at home! This week was very full (though I suppose that doesn’t mean much for me– I only worked 20 hours for my clients), so Friday was a chance to blow of steam through random projects. From artistic, and quickly going nerdy:

I finished a self-portrait! Well, it didn’t start out that way– it was just a technique I thought would be fun to play with (painting with melted wax). But half of my projects become self-portraits anyway.

I started the Garage Sale Site (with some new story ideas, and high hopes). It’s a pretty clean startup company prospect, but not one that I want to push, though I could work with someone else on it. I want to finish it in time to use it to sell of my stuff this summer.

I think I started a new field of science! Inspired by the discussions of my class on exploring the future, I’m developing a framework for combining System Dynamics and Complexity Theory. I’ll call it “Histrionics” (from “Historical Physics” and “Cybernetics”). It’ll be right up there with the Rising Constant (n²p) as one of my great contributions to humanity.

I build some software a few months ago for making a collection of random partial backups of all my data on CDs (because backing up everything at once is such a timesink). Well, last week I got a nice big external hard drive, so I started merging in some ideas to make it an passive-aggressive version-controlled repository for all my projects, email, and media. I’m calling it the Two Bit Secretary.

It’s best to write up one’s final wishes (living will (especially), legal will, funeral service details (if you want)) before actually dying. And it was one of my 101/1001 goals, so here’s a pass at them: Death Wishes.

I’m not worrying about making a proper legal document, at least until I have more valuable stuff. Am I missing anything important? Have you taken a different approach to doing this?

It was a good party, and totally copless. I walked around the apartment when the party was in full swing to hear the noise. At the loudest spot, a humming appliance next door was still louder. Except for Steph’s laugh, which you could hear anywhere.

I got some good loot from the party too! For that matter, here’s all the stuff I have in my party “lost and found” bag, in approximate reverse history:

Clothes:

• Light blue winter cap (from this party)
• White Hanes T-Shirt
• Brown with white threadlines hat (ivy cap?)
• Medium black fleece sweater
• Small black button-down top with embroidered flower design
• Black Zelda shirt
• White reinforced Hanes socks
• White studded belt
• Small black hoodie (stretchy material)
• Women’s black lace underwear
• Small black sock, “12-24 mths *circo*”
• Grey Fruit of the Loom undershirt

Other:

• Victorinox SwissTool in black carrier (from this party)
• Streamlight TwinTask 2L (from this party)
• Twine ankle bracelet (?) with three pale stone beads
• 3/4 circle piecing with pink stud
• Necklace with Q-Link pendant
• Green simple bracelet
• Orange foam dart

Contact me if it’s all yours. Sorry for not trying harder to return this stuff before.

And my black light poster board attracted a bunch of drawings! Many by the incredibly talented , but others too.

Long ago, there were three sexes: male, female, and a union of the two. Each person was built like a ball, with two faces looking opposite directions. Though fast and strong, originally humans were neither agile nor bold. Like antelope, they would roam in herds, and lived happily and complacently where food was plentiful.

The gods were displeased, because humans spent no time worshiping them, made no fine arts, and any god-child unfortunate enough to be raised amongst them would grow up utterly bereft of noble desires. They considered annihilating the whole race, as they had the giants.

After long reflect, Zeus said, “I think I have a plan to give them ambition. I shall give them a twist, and turn one face around, so that it can only stare inside. Like a bubble of air in dough, I’ll place a bit of nothingness in the center of each one, and turn that inner face to look at it. It will be the same nothingness of which we ourselves are made.” And it was done.

The new humans became anguished and miserable, because they feared the pocket of divine nothingness in their hearts. They devoted themselves to material possessions or gluttony to try to fill their void. Zeus saw that they were dying and took pity on them. He turned their generative organs to the front, for this was not always their position, so humans now sewed their seed not like grasshoppers in the ground, but in one another.

The other gods objected. “They will think only of joining together to try to regain a false semblance of their original form, and when they cannot they will be despondent,” Apollo cried. So Zeus bestowed one final gift. He gave each person a special compass, which would point them in the direction of the next few steps on the twisty trail to happiness. Sometimes it would point toward other people, sometimes to other places, sometimes to contemplation, and sometimes to creation.

I want to host this weekend! I have a bunch of left-over bits of liquor, so I’m calling a Left-Over Booze party. Bring your half-empty bottles of whatever, and we’ll try to polish them off! And bring yourself and your hot lingerie from Lingerie Night, and we’ll see what happens…

I’ve talked to most of the neighbors, and I don’t expect any more police problems. You never know, but I’m not going to ask people in the house to tip-toe (just the people on the front porch).

Guests generally fine, but check with me.

Sao Paulo– my poor toes let me see everything I wanted (but most of it was closed for Carnaval), and then promptly demanded that I give them some two-day-late tending. Sao Paulo is a very nice city: clean, well-organized, full-to-bursting, plenty of pedestrian streets and nice plazas. Most incredible thing I encountered there, on a block of sex and hat stores, was a huge no-chain-stores version of Cambridge’s Garage. There were like 20 tattoo parlors, as many music stores, clothing and accessories of every kind– punk, rock, skater, black power, reggae, fetish, boots, leather, vegan– and a few custom tailors in case they didn’t have what you wanted. I finished the day stuffing myself on tasty, cheap Brazillian pay-by-the-kilo

Here are the last pictures…

Florianopolis:

San Pantana Bay

Pantana do Sul Beach

Rio de Janeiro (Ipanema):

Rio de Janeiro (Other):

Sao Paulo:

And some final thoughts…

Going to South America was fantastic– it was wonderful getting out; every place I went to had a million appeals, very friendly people, delicious food, beautiful vistas; and it reminded me of all the reasons I adore travel.

But it was also a very different experience from traveling around Europe. There wasn’t the same knee-deep history, or architectural treasures, or sprawling museums. The trip seemed the wrong length: both too long and too short to abandon the goings-on of Cambridge, and definitely too short to properly explore three countries. I would have enjoyed sharing it with just about anyone. I expected a similar thrill moving on to each new location, but it wasn’t there. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spent my life dreaming of that continent. In Europe, one of the joys of travel for me was learning to meet new people, and to wade in life without attachments so that I could practice recreating myself. For this trip, that was both easy and unfulfilling– I’d already learned what I knew of it in Europe, and I didn’t travel long enough to take further.

At the same time, I did find something wonderful about each place. My now-favorite city in South America, Neuquen, I would never have visited if it hadn’t been for couchsurfing (which was a wonderful experience). And every other place I found myself had something wonderful to discover– maybe as good as anything in Europe– I just didn’t expect it to. I might have better learned to expect the unexpected, but I rarely knew where to look. Secretly I was sure I’d come back and move to eastern Europe. And it was a real surprise that the trip, point by point, mostly convinced me to return there. South America has everything I need in a continent.

If I’d dreamed more of South America– read more about it, felt the call to see what I’d read about– I probably would have gotten more of a thrill. But reading my guidebook did nothing for it. Footprint South America was poorly organized and uninspiringly written, and made some other odd choices (like putting everything in terms of US$). I don’t know if other any books are better, but I disrecommend Footprint.