"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

On The Up and Up

Had an engaging and inspiring visit from the Zacker, my cohort from the DeanSpace project. Also got fun random contact from some attractive girl in New York because she ran into two people who knew me, one through the Dean campaign and one through shakespeare. I'm working on something to send to my NYC crew for Axiom. My buddy Tom is down from Portland this weekend. And Dan and I managed to work out again. These trends are good.

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Fomenting

And a final note for a bloggy day, I'm half-proud of my latest post on MfA: So You Say You Want To "Get It?" It's not quite there yet, but coming along. I'm working on the rhetoric and trying to do the insight thing. Leave a comment over there if the post elicits any reaction.

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In the Halls of Xanadu

Thanks to an invite from Buddy Brit and $45 disposable income, I got to rub elbows with some of the digerati last night, supping at Joi Ito's dinner at LuLu's in SoMa. I sat across from the Director of Business Development for Red Herring (which I thought was defunct but has been given new life), and between one of the directors of the EFF and the guy behind Tribe.net, a kind of next-gen Friendster. It was an interesting experience.

I was young and poor for the crowd, uneasy with the aristocratic air that occasionally wafted through. I'm still not free of classism. Not that these people are stuffy or victorian or even looked down their nose at me and my black hoodie. In fact, I got an email fishing for extra dollars; the booze went over budget. But there is a kind of insiderism that rears its head from time to time, something to do with ready capital, tastes and a specific strain of education I think. A few glasses of wine helped dull that sensation, and I spieled about my organization a little; listened to people talk about their Tivo habbits, attending film festivals, social software, and the like.

The most valuable connection I made was with Steven Clift, who's an old hand at e-politics in Minnesota, next week's research focus for MfA). The person I most wanted to talk to and didn't was Howard Rheingold, who's "paint your shoes!" meme-card I carry in my wallet. The most fun moment was having a jet-lagged and boozy Ito physically inquire as to why I was massaging the bridge of my nose. The most interesting thing was hearing Doc Searls talk: he sounds younger than most of the 30-somethings there, and gives off the enthusiastic energy of a big-wave surfer dude. Not what I expected.

Namedrop namedrop blah blah blah. The real lession I picked up is that people are planning on making tons of money off of social software. I don't know how I feel about that.

Pedaling down the mission on my way home it occurred to me that having 100,000 unique visitors to your blog every month must be as potentially corrupting as any other form of celebrity. At the very least it presents a distancing information asymmetry; people read your site and they feel like they've had an interaction with you, which is true from their perspective, but you haven't learned anything about them. I get that from my friends, so I imagine it must be a strange land indeed for these curve-busting trend-surfers. I'm happy to do my own thing in my own time; but I want MfA to be wildly successful. There's an angle here somewhere.

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The Green Manalishi

First of all, three cheers to Franko for scoring a job with the NY Dean campaign. Color me jealous. Not that I don't like my job out here, but he's getting into the belly of the beast for real. I maintain my involvement --though I've been having to ease my way out of many focal positions as my free time disappears -- but strictly as an amateur. I helped Howard2 get bayarea4dean.com up, but mostly I've been working on my own stuff.

Speaking of which, we did a big upgrade on the MfA site. Check it out; read our sterling and unvarnished analysis; groove to our tunes. Get excited.

I've been doing a lot of code lately, and not a lot of writing in english. There's so much content waiting to come out, but I'm not quite there yet. Blocked, stuck, stricken with some hesitation. Dean's rolling on course to the nomination, which I cheer with all my might from the sidelines. My political focus has broadened; the goal now is to prepare firtile ground for the general election, to drive the movement forward and usher new participants into the fold.

Oh, and Axiom is going on without me. Nothing could thrill me more.

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Loan Wolf

We got a weight set, and I took a zig-zag bicicle sojourn up to Twin Peaks. It was a good thing; pumping a little iron and then tearassing up those car chase worthy San Francisco hills. I was aiming for that giant radio tower that reminds me of the Burning Man -- Sutro Tower -- but I missed the access road by a couple miles. Got some altitude though, sweat and burn and then all those good free moments coming down as a payoff... passing a yuppie chick in an Acura coupe on her way to some hilly organinc market, blowing a stop sign with no hands, perfect unity with my headphones and then a roller-coaster lurch over the edge of the next downhill. Almost lost it there, and it was a real moment of zen frenzy excitement, the precious present.

Feeling righteously sore, wondering when, if ever, I'll have time to pursue the finer things in life. Lying down for a bit, just contemplating, wondering how long it will be until I stop missing things that are miles and months away. It occurs to me that I'm violating three out of four of my axioms of living with my current lifestyle. I'm struggling; I'm keeping a lot of things to myself; and I'm not being present. Don't really know what to do about it. Time and exercise and experience and work -- and possibly drinking -- are the only things I can think of in my bag of available tricks that might help.

Getting laid would probably be good, but that doesn't seem terribly likely given my schedule, unless I can meet some political prospects or something. Actually this should be possible, but there's still my attitude in general to be dealt with, matters of self-esteem and those pesky pesky standards. Maybe I could ask Molly for advice on trolling through Friendster. Something's got to give pretty soon here.

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Ponderous

Spent last night getting the lay of the land in my 'hood. Checked out five bars and rode around a lot. The scene here in the mission tends to be a little older than me, a touch square. Maybe I got the wrong wires crossed, but it felt like the alienating aspects of the East Village and good old Billysburg got lumped together. I also don't remember how I got home.

Also, where do I get off labeling things square? What gives me that right? Am I not also a workaday Californian with an office down the peninsula? Should I say goodbye to bohemia? I don't want to, but perhaps it's not up to me.

On the other hand, I'm no David Brooks -- who I used to respect somewhat vis a vis his appearances on the PBS News Hour opposite Mark Shields -- writing in a snarky fashion about online dating and capitalizing Web. What a rube. Maybe that's the NYT making him do that, but he writes like someone who's belabored just trying to move his arms within his starchy outfit, who's never slummed around in the public sluce of desire and anguish that is last call. Thank God for my shaggy hair and stubble and ease with bodily functions and collection of ecclectic Mp3's; can't be long before I stumble into something sweet and sweaty. Irony or thinly veiled confession? You be the judge.

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Gimme Control

I'm feeling alittle overwhelmed. It's coming on hard and fast, too big to duck, too wide and formless to calculate a decent slice-through. It's afro-hatian dance class with a bad hangover. It's facing down a mean slate of traffic; four lanes oncoming, and not a beat to proj on to.

So I remember the beginning of this summer, taking a drive up 101 with my man Mark, talking about social prolematics, the little things that drive people crazy about each other. The golden fields rolling by on either side of us. Summer on the American road; strangers in a strange land. We had some good talk there in that pickup truck.

I don't even know why this memory is significant; too scattershot here writing on the commuter train to keep a thought on track. Too frazzed to push out any meaningful content.

Mark and Shannon -- his girlfriend of some seven years, lately fiance -- broke up a few months ago. A big shakup for the rest of us too; they were the template. This is public knowledge now so it's ok to write about, I think. I live in a certain fear of stepping on toes, a repressed and subliminal fear, one that my ego sometimes rebells against.

And so last weekend, Mark traveling down for the Halloween holiday, first time I'd seen him since August, and he showed up with these girls three in tow. Technically they showed up with him in tow, but the point is he was with one of them, and I didn't really know how to react. It made me tense and uncomfortable, because it was real friendly, the way they were, real reminiscent of the usual scene except one of the roles had been recast. And we were supposed to go on like nothing changed? Oh man. That brought out the unease, yeah.

And then the Saturday afternoon after, he happened by and we had to talk about it and I was high on tea and really let my mouth steal the show. It was a mistake because I was speaking partly (largely) out of frustration, not what you'd call constructive criticism. He'd kind of crapped up my movie, and I was pissed, fuck his situation. Selfish selfish selfish.

Can't stick two things together, can't carry a tune or hold a spot. Makes me want to beat on something for a time; focus with my fists. That's not a solution, but it's certainly a desire. I wish I were tired but instead I'm plain dog hungry.

It's a lot to try and handle, all this. Catch myself clenching my jaw a lot lately; bad suff. How are things? Things are essentially decent but I'm feeling buffetted by all the chaos, a surging tide of incompatible orders, and I want somebody to love, an out, even if temporary.

Take it seriously, but don't be fucking stogdy. Have a little fun and quick judging everyone.

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Everyone Says

Things are smoothing out a little bit here. I'm starting to take slightly better care of myself. Beter diet, a touch more exercise. Hadn't been doing that very well as of late; tons of impulse control, ears back against head, a constant state of cat-like readyness. It was getting to be a pain. I've yet to hang loose in California, but I feel it coming. I miss New York like hell, and as my man the Girth forced me to admit the other day, I'm plainly not yet over Sasha (science for grownups... holy shit was I in love!), but in spite of this, I've got to jump in to where I am with both feet. Should I ever go back to those things from my past, it will be on new terms. Progress must be made. Take it seriously. Now have fun.

And you know what? It's working. A soft hand is a better means of steering the live-wire Koenig. Got to have a little room to maneuver.

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Headlines

Quick scan/A little Dada commentary: Iraq Said to Have Tried to Reach Last-Minute Deal to Avert War; In Anti-Abortion Campaign, One Leap for Incrementalism; British Police Brace for Bush Visit; In Deal for Life, Man Admits Killing 48 Women; Action Figures Proliferate; Soldier Accused as Coward.

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Halloween Salsa

Oooh, let's have a snarky soap opera of a blog for once, why don't we?

It's not like my relationships are any better than anyone elses. For the most part I have no relationships, but being surrounded by various kinds of unhealthy couple moments this weekend made me for a moment proud to be single. Or rather, it made me feel gross and uncomforable, which in turn evoked a kind of reactionary, atavistic bachelor pride.

This bravado was summarally deflated when a girl approached me at the bar on Friday night and I went to pieces like a 16-year old.

She was a stranger to me at the time, but I gather now a friend of a friend. She looked at me just as we were walking in and there was a spark. I thought I knew her from before, she looked roughly similar to that girl I'd talked to on the phone a couple times but who'd decided not to ever meet me for a drink; tall, dark hair, possibly a slavic hint to her features. I panicked and walked past.

She followed very close. I could feel blood rushing to my head, the heat of her body behind me, a flustered sensation to say the least. This just from walking into a bar. I was aroused and excited, but then paranoid and defensive at the same time. Where the hell did this come from? Showing desire is declaring vulnerability. What the hell was happening here?

In any event, I mishandled it. She passed me, tugging at my hand. For a blissful second I didn't even think and went with her through the crowd. An elated sense of coming unstuck overccame me, but the power of doubt quickly took control and I started lagging. She glanced back once, let the light grip on my hand go and continued on to the back. I started after her once; checked myself. Looked back to try and see where my friends were. Looked at her again, stutter started and then finally headed on back to see what was what.

I was scared. I don't know what of, but I was not relaxed. "Do I know you?" I said in a highly accusatory tone.

"No... I just thought you were cute," was her quiet response. She slipped past me quickly and out the front I presume. 90 seconds later when everything made sense again and I realized the score she was gone. I couldn't see her anywhere. It was all over, all in the span of four minutes. So many things I didn't want to be worrying about then... who wants to be uptight? That little axe-wound of tension between my shoulders is killing me.

So I sit here, stewing slowly in lust and regret and Charles Mingus. Happy Halloween. Maybe I'll dink around with Friendster for a little bit. Lots of girls down here put up their Burning Man photos; a lot more squares too; interesting.

Maybe I'll think about what I aught to be able to be doing, engage my identity crisis in a bout of grappling, map out a plan of action for taking over the world. Maybe I'll think about taking care of myself for a change.

It's a rough time, you know. We've got a lot of problems; a lot more than we used to, it seems. We're quickly learning that we're not invincible. Though some still try to resist the lesson, the question on eveyone's lips is, "what do we do now?"

It's ugly to contemplate, to fully let in the awfulness of this world. But believing you have the power to change anything means having the guts to look at how screwed up it really is. If you want to get the high highs, the low lows come prepackaged, friend.

It's time we shifted gears here; got to start increasing our power ratio or we'll burn out in first. You gotta believe. Feels like a throwaway line at times, but it's also the fucking truth. You do indeed gotta.

We've got to bring more people into this process. We've got to engage another section of the population. We're doing really well, but if we settle in where we are and start just running on what we've got, the results are in doubt. We need to make a couple quantum leaps if we want to insure the full revolution.

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