Boudin noir
Own your weird. Also an artist-owned Internet; good tomatoes; Sony's treasures
I journal every day. Expressing gratitude daily is indeed a game-changer. I use The Five Minute Journal. If you are loaded you can order the real ones, otherwise, grab fakies on Aliexpress. Since limes cost $34 a kg, I use their frame on any paper.
Archive from exactly one year ago:
So what would make today great on that 5th of February 2024? From what I can decypher:
1. time with kids
2. smile, laugh
3. accepting things the way they are, not how I would like them to be.
One year later, I keep writing similar lines. Simple life, good life.
I also spice up my journaling with prompts from this app (recommended), and this is what appeared on my screen the other day:
Guess what was the first thing that came to my mind? Boudin noir.
What is boudin noir? Sit down. Boudin noir is a blood sausage, a French specialty we pan-fry and eat with mashed potatoes, as a main dish.
With up to 70% pork blood and 20% pork fat, boudin noir is a 100% haram vegan nightmare. I feel like a peasant straight from the Middle Ages for enjoying it (like when I had to explain andouillette to a colleague).
You won't find boudin noir here in Sydney, and God forbid I even think of opening a grilling stand on Bondi Beach. So I wonder what weird flex my brain cells pulled to connect something that warms you up with that boudin noir.
There’s only a thin line between this blood sausage and cannibalism, to be honest. And I’ll cross it right now. I’m in a boudin noir mood. You could argue human blood tastes milder than pork blood right? I could then bleed myself – 50cl would be enough to prepare a small French vegan-friendly auto-boudin noir I could serve à ma façon, Hannibal style, with a..
Ok, ok I’ll stop here. I hope this anecdote can warm you up if one day you’re alone in a freezing place.
You see, try journaling, it does wonders to clear your mind.
Two things:
Soon, we’ll constantly have to prove we’re a real person. Take this post as a homemade captcha; proof no AI is writing this newsletter.
Own your weird. Don’t hide your bounding noir. Our weirdness is what we have left, we can’t let it vanish. Chris Sacca said “Weirdness is why we adore our friends... Weirdness is what bonds us to our colleagues. Weirdness is what sets us apart, gets us hired. Be your unapologetically weird self. In fact, being weird may even find you the ultimate happiness.”
And now, the catch of the week. Enjoy!
This cooperative
Subvert wants to be the next Bandcamp, owned and controlled by its community of artists, labels, supporters, and workers – and you can become a founding member.
I dig their vision of a collectively owned music marketplace; of an artist-owned Internet. We need more of that “For Us, By Us” oxygen, and that brings me to
This thought
Good things don't scale. I remember my mum telling me the quality of her favourite perfume Vol de Nuit declined after LVMH acquired Guerlain in the 90s. Wait and see how long your next Birkenstock will last.
I remember an Airbnb professional photographer coming for free to take pictures of my apartment; I remember getting picked up by Uber’s shiny black Mercedes S-Class “Which music would you like, sir?” Hugo Boss driver; I even remember Spotify not sneakily filling their background music playlists with fake artists.
What directors have been discovered by [streaming] platforms?
– Thierry Frémaux, head of the Cannes Film Festival
When was the last time you were impressed by the taste of an industrially-grown hydroponic tomato; thrilled by the new iPhone release? Is Squid Game a new Burger King menu? Netflix doesn’t just survive when no one is watching — it thrives: from binge-watching, they introduced casual viewing, content you can consume while on your phone or doing laundry.
Several screenwriters who’ve worked for the streamer told me a common note from company executives is “have this character announce what they’re doing so that viewers who have this program on in the background can follow along.”
I have a theory that chasing things that scale makes you need therapy, and the therapy is pursuing things that can’t scale.
I once wrote that every entrepreneur’s dream is to succeed at building an impossibly hard business and then finally open a local coffee shop to be happy.
Time to read that fisherman and the businessman tale again:
Good things don't scale, except the PlayStation. Which brings me to
This cabinet of curiosities
Obsolete Sony is a multi-platform media offering a journey through Sony’s history.
In The Creation of the Compact Disc I learned that beautiful detail:
Sony, however, argued for a slightly larger 12 cm disc to accommodate 75 minutes of music—enough to hold Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Ohga insisted, “You can’t interrupt a performance halfway.”
Amen.
I realise Sony has always been present in my life. From the Walkman, Discman, and MiniDisc to… the PlayStation. What a brand.
I also made some great eye candy discoveries:
I had the next Sports version (don’t click, it’s a rabbit hole within the rabbit hole) of the Walkman below. The design was sick and the assembling and finishes would still be considered high-end today. A piece of art built like a tank. It lasted forever.
No wonder Steve Jobs was obsessed with Sony. He visited the factories in the 1980s where Sony’s CEO Akio Morita gave him the first Walkman:
The first thing he did with his was take it apart, and he looked at every single part. How the fit and finish was done, how it was built.
Steve's point of reference was Sony at the time. He really wanted to be Sony. He didn't want to be IBM. He didn't want to be Microsoft. He wanted to be Sony.
Thanks for your attention. Take care, and have a great week ☀️