a taste of my own medicine

In the entrepreneurship book I’m writing, in the chapter about networking, I talk quite a bit about the power of doing homework – learning everything you possibly can about a person you’ll be meeting before you actually meet up. People are always surprised and flattered to discover you’ve gone through the trouble of finding out more about them, and you can build strong ties very quickly by knowing in advance common interests that can launch discussion.

I say this because, in two weekends, I’ll be heading to the Reboot conference, a yearly retreat organized by the Spielberg and Bronfman foundations, at which young Jewish movers and shakers (and this year, by their likely mistaken inclusion, me) try and assess the state of American Judaism, of how to make the evolving religious civilization of the Jews relevant to modern life. As one past attendee jokingly described it, sort of the yearly meeting of the Youngers of Zion.

Yesterday, I received in the mail a large packet from Reboot, with about twenty-five articles and excerpts meant to ignite thinking in advance of the actual event. And, in the pile, was a collection of short bios of the fifty or so attendees. So, following my own advice, I’ve been diligently researching each attendee through the magic of Google, making flashcards for each, and working to memorize their individual details.

It’s a bit of an experiment, as I’ve never tried networking research on such a large scale, and I’m very curious to see whether it actually pays off.

back on top

When the building I live in was sold, about six months back, the new management company closed off the entrance to the building’s roof deck, barricading the door with a rather threatening emergency fire alarm.

At first, we weren’t entirely sure that the alarm was even activated, though shortly after it’s installation, one of our building-mates, perhaps similarly uncertain, apparently decided to check, and for the balance of one fall weekend the piercing alarm rang continuously down our stairwell.

At this past weekend’s Mothers’ Day party, however, I met our neighbors two flights up, and mentioned missing roof access as weather the warmed, as I’d previously often headed up, laptop in hand, to bang out work. They, in turn, replied that, with a bit of MacGyver ingenuity, they’d managed to disable the alarm and bust free the roof-bound door.

So, once again, I have a roof patio. Once again, I have sweeping night vistas of Midtown and the Hudson River. Once again, I’m tremendously pleased with where I live.

complexity

After redesigning s-a and Cyan Pictures‘ website, I set out on the next logical step: revamping the Paradigm Blue site as well. The problem, however, is that, while Cyan Arts is remarkably well defined and moving steadily towards its eventual full incarnation, Sapphire Holdings and the Indigo Foundation have perpetually been much less sharply conceptualized, being mainly ever-evolving catch-alls for the miscellany of other work in which I’m involved: the entrepreneurship book, sitting on the boards of various start-ups, real estate ventures with my younger brother, consulting with nonprofits, a few science- and technology-related books I’ve been outlining, etc., etc.

Though I feel like I’m finally coming to a strong understanding of how Sapphire and Indigo will operate (as should be reflected in the coming-soon new version of the PB site), the thinking I’ve been doing has also inadvertently stirred up any number of related issues that normally lie dormant at the back of my brain. This weekend’s politics post, for example, was one result. Here’s another:

Sometimes, when back in Palo Alto, I’ll run into one of Stanford’s Deans of Admissions, who I’ve known for some time.

“So,” he’ll ask, “when are you coming to Stanford B-school?”

My unvarying reply: “As soon as you have my students ready.”

Which is to say, while I’d conceivably be happy to teach at a business school at some point in the future (having, already, been a guest speaker at nearly a dozen), I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to strap on a backpack and head to such a school as a student myself.

At the same time, one part of my mind, a little tiny voice way at the back, thinks it would be great fun to go back and get a PhD – not in business or film or computer science or any other area closely related to what I do know, but in complexity theory. Because, for all of my life, I’ve been excited by top-down problem solving – seeing new connections between divergent fields – and by questions of emergence and chaos – how very complicated, unpredictable behaviors can stem from players following remarkably simple rules – the two ideas that complexity most deeply delves.

In part, I love thinking about complexity theory because it pushes me to the edge of my cognitive abilities. We’re tremendously poor at seeing big pictures, at mentally working through the large-scale, compound interactions of very small parts. It’s the sort of thinking that makes my brain hurt, and it’s thinking I always have to push myself to do more often.

In college, I did a lot of that thinking, as most of my studies revolved around cognition, around trying to understand how the mind works. My senior thesis, for example, explored the question of what makes music sound good, of why air vibrations and synaptic impulses can make our subjective selves experience such profound emotional shifts. The project was a wild goose chase, tracing through themes in mathematics, physiology, neuroscience, acoustics, linguistics, philosophy, and a slew of other fields, and I enjoyed the process immensely. Still, I was never truly pleased with the result – the sixty or so pages I put together raised for me more questions than they answered, and I’ve always considered one day revisiting the topic for a more thorough analysis.

But as much as I love theory, I’m even more smitten with action. Which is why I doubt I’ll ever go head-first into the world of academia – too many great ideas are born and die in a vacuum, without ever making their way out to impact the real world. Still, I actively try and keep mind-stretching ideas in front of me – at the moment, I’m both re-reading Hofstadter’s excellent Gˆdel, Escher, Bach and working my way through an excellent online collection of neuroscience lectures.

Certainly, I do so because I like those subjects, because I like having to think hard. But also, I do it because I’m sure there’s some way to help such hard thinking osmote across to my daily, more action-based pursuits.

call us yenta

Six months back, following our Halloween party (the infamous Hell’s Kitchen Museum of Curious Deaths), one of my high school friends emailed to get the phone number of another guest, a documentary film producer who he had flirted with briefly at the party, and wanted to ask out.

I checked with her to see if she’d mind, then passed the number along. As I saw them both rather infrequently, and neither mentioned it again, I assumed that he’d perhaps not called, or that the date hadn’t really gone anywhere.

Still, last night, at the Mother of All Parties, I saw the two talking again. How cute, I thought. A second chance.

Not exactly. Apparently, the first chance had been more than enough, as the two weren’t meeting up again at this second party – they had come together. They’ve been dating since our first shindig, and are moving in with each other June 1st.

Parties here at the Gotham Sugar Shack: alcohol abuse and effective matchmaking, all rolled into one. Damn we’re good.

politics

Aside from occasional swipes at Bush in the sidebar, I rarely talk about politics on this site. A number of friends have asked about my own political standing, so, today, I’m breaking from the largely non-political nature of self-aggrandizement to lay down my own thinking. Don’t worry, though; come tomorrow, it’s back to inane blogging per usual

First, let me say that – the efforts of thousands of ‘warbloggers’ to the contrary – I truly believe blogging about politics rarely has any significant effect on the way politics plays out in the real world. Simply put, to change political outcomes, you need to change people’s minds, and the audiences for political weblogs are too self-selecting to do that effectively. I’d estimate that about 90% of the readers of any political blog already firmly agree with the writer’s position, while the remaining 10% would never possibly be made to agree with it, and are just there to heckle in the comments. In other words, 90% preaching to the choir, 10% lost cause.

That said, I must admit to feeling more than a bit of guilt for my online political apathy. Earlier in my life, I was much more politically minded; enough so that, one year in high school, I somehow pulled “Next Bill Clinton” in the yearbook. (That’s now funnier to me for it’s extra-political implications than it’s purely political ones, but I digress.) As I became increasingly immersed in the world of technology and business, however, politics began to take a back seat in my mind. At one point, I remember asking a very successful CEO whether he had ever thought about running for senator. His laughing reply: “I’d rather own a politician than be one.”

Over the last few years, however, the people around me have begun to politicize significantly, naturally pulling me back into the fray. On the one side, most of my film and Yale friends are classic left-liberals; on the other, most of the entrepreneurs and finance types I know are libertarians and neo-cons. According to any of the many, many online political affiliation tests, I fall squarely in the first group – and, of course, with New York intellectual hippy parents, and a Bay Area upbringing (amongst those the New York Times called in the early ’90s “the quiche and Volvo set”), that shouldn’t be a surprise. But, while I fall about as far left as possible on social policy, economically, I often make a poor liberal; while I agree with the liberal aims of wealth redistribution, I also place a rather un-liberal belief in the power of the free market.

Which is to say, I really believe in the efficiency of capitalism, at least as the best route for allocating resources to drive progress in science, technology and (resultingly) social change. At the same time, unlike libertarians, I also believe that markets tend to allocate resources without regard to social justice. If a goal of the system is to make sure nobody is left behind as the world moves towards the better (and, certainly, I believe that should be a central goal), then the market needs a bit of prodding. The question, then, is mainly one of building change through free market initiatives that are constrained just enough to require the solutions they naturally enact are socially just.

For a better explanation, consider something like the need for a livable wage, a complex issue with real difficulties on both side.

On the one hand, unskilled workers simply cannot live, much less build families, on $5 hour. Combined with the lack of health-care for the uninsured, and the profound lag of education in urban centers (well behind the average of our already overall rather ailing system), I don’t believe anyone can intelligently argue that these people aren’t getting the short end of the stick. The right’s answer, ‘education and training’, is remarkably ingenuine; do conservatives really believe that, with a few night courses, an immigrant janitor can retool himself into a high-paid software whiz?

At the same time, mandating that business simply pick up the slack by raising the minimum wage to $9 or $10 an hour isn’t economically sustainable. Mandating that private firms pay that much for people who, in purely economic terms, are only ‘worth’ $5, would simply put $5 skillset workers in competition with $10 skillset workers, leading to vast job losses across the $5 crowd, placing the group in a worse position than the one the living wage movement set out to fix!

That said, a number of remarkably intelligent, market-driven solutions do exist. I particularly like one proposed by Columbia University economist Edmund Phelps, who has researched extensively the possibility of a sliding-scale tax credit to employers. Phelps’ solution provides a real livable wage, yet is excellent from a business perspective, as $6 workers would still cost $6 of businesses’ money – with government putting up $3 or $4 to match.

As well as giving both employees and employers what they want, the solution even makes sense for society as a whole; from a strictly utilitarian perspective, the cost of the subsidy pays for itself, as research has shown that the social benefits of work (in terms of less crime, welfare dependency, etc.) exceed less skilled workers’ productivity (which limits what employers can offer in wages).

Which is to say, really intelligent solutions do exist to this and any number of other major problems in our country, from education and health care to foreign policy. The difficulty, really, is that the best solutions make poor bumper stickers, and politics, at least as practiced today, seems to consist mostly of rallying cry appeals to either the left or right’s lowest common denominators.

Which, in short, explains my issue with politics. Simply supporting candidates doesn’t seem to me to be the best way to improve the world. Instead, I’m vastly more optimistic about the possibilities of guiding the policy decisions made by select current officials, helping them towards approaches that improve at once both the lives of their electorate and their own re-electability. Certainly, lobbying has long been the tool of big business; so have complaints that big business seems to own government. Coincidence?

So, in short, such targeted, mercenary lobbying is where I focus my political efforts. It’s a primary focus of the Indigo Foundation, a nonprofit I chair. If corporations own politics, perhaps it’s time to take a more corporate approach to achieving less corporate aims. Rally’s are fine, but I’d rather have results.

All that that being said, come November, I’ll be voting for Kerry. Not because I’m particularly thrilled with him, but because I’m exceedingly appalled by the possibility of another four years of Bush. Even anyone not revolted by his record on social issues should be gravely concerned by the speed with which he’s running the country into the ground fiscally. Economically speaking, he’s perhaps the worst thing that’s ever happened to our government, and I don’t believe that statement is hyperbolic.

One final note: remember, for better or for worse, that we currently have a two party system. A cursory study of game theory explains that you can’t switch over to a multi-party system simply by slowly building the constituencies of third-party candidates over time. Feel passionate about the need for a multi-party system? Do something productive, like pushing hard for alternative voting systems, such as run-off voting, which, if implemented, would instantly create a rich multi-party political nation. Until then, realize that there are two real candidates, Bush and Kerry, and that by not voting for one, you unintentionally vote for the other. Which is to say, tell me you’re going to vote for Nader again in this election, and I swear I’ll punch you in the face.

pardon the dust

As the old version of s-a was so 2002, I’m switching the site over to this new look. I don’t have much (read ‘any’) free time in my schedule at the moment, so the site likely won’t be switched over completely until this weekend; sorry for any technical problems between now and then.

cinema adolescente

I don’t know if it’s a judgement on me or on the state of the American film industry, but I headed out to see Mean Girls last night, and found it one of the best films so far this year.

Also, in the ‘absolutely wrong’ category, I now totally have a crush on Lindsay Lohan.

the mother of all parties

As previously mentioned, we have a party in the works for this weekend at our fair apartment, The Gotham Sugar Shack. A bit more information about the event:

Junior-

I’m flattered that you want to have a party in my honor. I spoke to your father, and we agreed that you can have your friends over to our apartment. However, if you’re going to have a Mother’s Day gathering, there are a few rules that you must abide.

1) You can only serve milk drinks (alcoholic milk drinks are okay, but no grain alcohol, okay?). And remember to be a good host and make cookies, brownies and Rice Krispie treats. I’m sure your little friends will bring something too, assuming their mothers raised them right.

2) Tell your guests that for this party they ARE REQUIRED TO DRESS AS THEIR MOTHER. Your father and I are serious about this, Junior! And yes, this includes boys as well as girls. Brooms, dustpans, aprons and minivans are optional, but appreciated (your friends can be so messy!).

3) Remind your friends that because we love you so much, we’ll let them play in the “Womb Room.” If your friends ask what the Womb Room is, tell them: “The Womb Room is both a metaphysical ideal and an aesthetic construct; words can not properly describe the Womb Room. The Womb Room must be experienced.”

I trust that your party will be just as enjoyable as the one you had for Halloween, Junior. And yes, of course you can wear my dress for the night. Most importantly, Junior: as the host, it’s your duty to make sure nobody has sex in the shower.

And, don’t forget: if any of your friends don’t attend, it’s because they don’t really love their mothers.

Have a nice party!

Hugs & Kisses,

Mom

Again, if you haven’t received an invite, but would like to, certainly let me know.

periodicity

A girl I recently started seeing (inevitably) discovered this site, and spent some time skimming through the archives. She emailed to say, “you appear to have various recurring patterns in your life in this order: sleeplessness, illness and the avid (drunken) pursuit of women.”

To which I can only respond: it is, indeed, a vicious cycle.

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