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Peter Stuart Lakanen

“The rules of love, they really are severe. If you’re giving up everything for something, then GIVE UP EVERYTHING FOR SOMETHING and stay with it with your mind on where you’re going.”

—Joseph Campbell, Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine

“Do not tolerate brilliant jerks. The cost to teamwork is too high.”

—Reed Hastings, CEO of Netflix

All decaf, half sugar cortadito.

Made by The Grandmaster at the RE3EYE, The Redeye Coffee Shop in Tallahassee, Florida.

“Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.”

—Gary Snyder

“I find the trout to be a very Nietzschean fish. Trials of his wild existence find their way into the flavor of the flesh.”

—Hannibal, Season Two, Episode Eight, “Su-zakana”

(Further evidence that Hannibal is probably the most smartly written show on TV right now.)

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.”

—Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night

filter failure

the failure of technological and programmatic filters to assist us in finding the information we need without being overwhelmed

Source: Is more real-time information a dream or a nightmare?

Additionally: Shirky: Problem is filter failure, not info overload

transmarginal inhibition

an organism’s response to overwhelming stimuli

Wikipedia page

“I was never insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.”

—Edgar Allen Poe

“Train people well enough they can leave, treat them well enough so they don’t want to.”

—Richard Branson

“Stay hungry, stay foolish.”

—Steve Jobs

All decaf, half sugar cortadito.

Made by The Grandmaster.

What I Miss

I miss the seas and the big lakes, walking along their shores, whether sand or stone, on the edge of the water, on the edge of the land, like that magical nowhere space beyond the edge of time between sleep and wake where The Muses speak and lovers taste the eternity of now with their fingers brushing each other like the heavy branches of a snowy pine grazing the sheltered earth beneath it or so tangled up in each other that it’s difficult to see where each of them begins or ends.

I miss the woods up north where even in July winter’s breath is barely held at bay, and my Mount Olympus is a simple moss-covered outcropping of granite or shale amongst the scarred, white-barked birches and other hardwoods where the wind plays conductor to my chorus of leaves, serenading me, charming me, pleading with me to stay, and I’m like a sailor high upon the mast on the midnight watch and I swear that in the wind I can hear my forlorn love calling my name in the middle of the night, beyond the horizon, unfathomable miles away.

I miss you.

Visualized Quote 047: “…the all or nothing days…” (Frank Miller, SIN CITY)