Bangkok: Sawasdee Khrap
Bangkok changed the way I think about cities. In its neon streets, crowded temples, and layered history, I discovered what urban texture truly means—and why some places stay with you long after you leave.
I reflect on a difficult 2010, fatherhood, moving, work, fitness, and choosing to improve my life instead of chasing escape.
I revisit digital reading through Gawker, Kindle, iPhone, and shifting blog design, asking how flow and discovery are changing.
I think about Instapaper, clean site design, and how removing distractions can make online reading feel slower and more humane.
I review The Social Network through Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, Aaron Sorkin, and the tension between myth, invention, and accuracy.
I push back on SEO pressure and blog continuity, wondering whether not blogging can protect better writing, memory, and curiosity.
I speculate about Google Me, decentralized networks, private publics, and how Google might reshape identity and sharing online.
I wrestle with unread feeds, Twitter noise, privacy, and the need to step back from the internet so my thoughts can deepen again.
I document my early paleo experiment, cutting grains, eating more fruit, walking daily, and learning how my body reacts to a primal diet.
I review the 2009 Dawson City Music Festival through the journey north, festival paths, local atmosphere, and Yukon music culture.
I expand the Immersion Age idea through tribes, participation, online information flow, and the way connection changes daily life.
I argue for the Immersive Age, where constant information, media, and global connection reshape attention, ambition, and confusion.
I respond to Douglas Rushkoff and question whether business, left politics, idealism, and my own worldview need to be reconsidered.
I write about depression, introversion, the pressure to keep writing, and searching for a brighter way to move into the new year.
I unpack why conservative businesswomen appeal to me despite my left-leaning politics, using The Apprentice as an awkward mirror.
I tell my 2005 version of who I am, from childhood silence and observation to theatre, relationships, politics, and searching for direction.