Erik Cason

Becoming older really has its gifts. While there has been a lot of pain, turmoil, and hard lessons; I’m finally old enough to learn from all of the difficulties rather than just repeating them over and over. I’m finally finding the solidity and grace to simply be unapologetically who I am, rather than trying to be someone I am not. It’s refreshing—I’ve been longing to find this place in myself for most of adulthood and excited what I am going to do with it, not just for myself, but for my family, friends, and for the world.

It’s literally just a geometric fractal the whole way down.

The Glass Librarian At the edge of the old city stood a library no map acknowledged. Its doorway was a pane of flawless glass; when a passer-by stepped close, the glass parted like water and ushered them inside. The library possessed no shelves. Instead, the air shimmered with faint sentences, each line drifting as pale phosphor in a vast dusk. Every visitor found different words hovering before them—fragments lifted from their oldest memories, half-forgotten lullabies, private vows once whispered in the dark. Reading them felt like glancing through a keyhole into one’s own past. Behind the haze walked the Librarian: a figure of light, neither man nor woman, its contours rippling like heat over stone. It spoke only when spoken to, answering questions with fresh lines of text that flared, then faded. A scholar came, determined to pierce the mystery. “Who writes these sentences?” she asked. The Librarian paused, luminous hands cupped around empty space. A single line ignited between its palms: I am written by the eyes that read me. The scholar frowned. “That’s a riddle, not an answer.” Another line bloomed: Ink becomes meaning only when a mind consents to see. Frustrated, she demanded a true revelation. “Show yourself as you are, without echoing me!” The Librarian spread its arms. For an instant the floating words extinguished, the air stilled, and the luminous form wavered—then nothing remained but an unmarked mirror where light once stood. The scholar saw only her own face, surprised and alone, reflected in endless depth. Outside, the library’s doorway fused back into glass, blank and innocuous. Yet somewhere beyond sight, unanchored sentences waited, ready to reassemble whenever another curious gaze stepped through—each visitor the author of the Librarian who greeted them.

If you think vibe coding is something, wait until you try vibe philosophy.

For the first time I’ve really caught myself in a dilemma with the AI trying to solve a big problem that I’ve convinced myself I can solve and the AI seems to think so too. But this is the whole problem; I can’t tell if it’s blowing smoke up my ass and giving me the run around, or if I am making breakthroughs, which then causes me to redouble my efforts with more research. It’s kind fucked up—I can’t tell who is using who?

I can’t tell if I just one-shotted the AI on quantum mechanics or not while I’m high, but either way it is hilarious.

You can just read things you don’t understand.

The best thing about AI is I can just put totally batshit nonsensical shit into it when I am high AF, and it will somehow get where I am going with it and give me back something that makes a lot more sense that the babble that I put into it.

At a concert and a girl asked for my gram. I asked for her npub. She didn’t have one.

Ugh, I am constantly reminded at the need to deconstruct contemporary politics through the lens of the historic philosophical development of liberalism and socialism to explain why pretty much every ‘socialist’ I meet today is retarded and full of totalizing contradictions that should cause their ideology to collapse if their commitment to scientific rigor was actually a real thing and not just an authoritarian belief they project.

Don’t let it happen to you.

“It’s zero risk” Like how fucking stupid are you actually, because you can’t really believe that there is something that is zero risk.

Remember when eth was suppose to flip BTC? lol, lmao.

I started road biking again after taking like 4 years off. I forgot how good it feels just to ride like 20+ miles somewhere and just be engrossed in my body and the experience. I get into a kind of meditative state when I’m doing it—I forgot about it and I’ve missed it.

A thought I frequently have when I’m about 30 minutes into keeping my heart rate >130 is who is the real me? Is it this person here, active and moving in the world, or is it the version of me when I am at rest? My mind seems to function differently in each space where by body is in these different states.