pinchy dot org.

“Ten-car train for Trancas in five minutes.”

If you care at all about user interfaces, or the future, or perhaps even the future of user interfaces, you really need to read Bret Victor’s brilliant rant about the future of interaction design. “Are we really going to accept an Interface Of The Future that is less expressive than a sandwich?“

I could really use one of these.

Yesterday was my last day as a city planner. I spent eight years in the field—six as a professional, and two as a graduate student. That’s nearly a quarter of my life.

Yesterday, of course, was also the day that Steve Jobs died.

I left my job in part because of something Steve Jobs said in his famous 2005 commencement address at Stanford University:

You’ve got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle.

Most of us will never be anything like Steve Jobs.1 But we can all try to make sure that we love what we do.

I’m trying. I haven’t figured everything out just yet. But I’m trying.

1. And it’s just as well. Can you imagine a world filled with nothing but Steve Jobses? What a nightmare. [↩]

At the gym this morning, I was silently bemoaning the execrable club music being piped in through the overhead speakers. But then I thought, wait, what do I expect them to be playing instead? Debussy? Help me out with this one, Internet.

As Jeff Williams awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found his apartment transformed in the night into a monstrous pile of boxes.

I always felt so far from you, like something wasn’t right. But tonight I rest my head inside the crook of your arm, and I feel like a golden star.

Every once in a while, I choose to make wise use of the time I have alone, and it reminds me just how valuable that time is. Time to one’s self is a rare gift, once that I squander all too often. I need to keep that in mind.

N-Judah
(to the tune of “Julia,” by the Beatles)

This is why my schedule is a mess
It’s because I take the goddamn Judah

Judah, tall and grey
Trains that move slowly
So the wait goes on and on, N-Judah

Judah, two-car train
Comes in 20 minutes
Next one comes in 21, N-Judah

And when you show, you’re overflowing
Owing
To delays

Judah, transit hell
Traffic in the tunnel
Keeps me waiting on and on, N-Judah

When my errand cannot wait
I have learned I must avoid Judah

Judah, Judah
Trains backed up always
So the wait goes on and on, N-Judah
Judah
Judah

Every time I read something I wrote in the past, I feel as though I was smarter back then. What the hell is that about? Am I getting dumber as I age? Or is my inferiority complex just growing stronger by the day?

I suppose it could be both. Oh, dear.