Does anyone else get the urge to break dance at the airport?

Been so busy that I forgot to get pumped that I get to hang with all my hommies this week! See y’all in Vegas!

If you are at shitcoin adjacent Vegas 2025, you should come see me speak. I may or may not be on drugs, I have not decided yet: Session Name: Bitcoin as a Digital 1776 Stage: Genesis Stage Time & Date: May 27, 2025 from 1:00 pm - 1:30 pm —— Session Name: Are Bitcoiners Becoming Sycophants of The State? Stage: Genesis Stage Time & Date: May 28, 2025 from 4:00 pm - 4:30

Getting drunk listening to boomers talk about investing. Conversation has drifted to commodities, I’m sure I will have an outraged outburst if bitcoin comes up and absolutely shithead fucktard conversation comes up.

Damn; price of bitcoin is $107k and I don’t feel anything. Talk about existentialism.

I have developed something that I am calling a BASED note—Bitcoin Asset Secured Equity Distribution note. It is designed for bitcoin startups to finance their bitcoin treasuries based upon hitting particular targets for their subsequent round of fundraising. In short, companies that want to buy a bitcoin treasury today and liquidate it at a particular price point (say 5x from now), buy the bitcoin now with the promise of liquidating at the particular price point in n exchange for the 5x of equity.

Oh the irony that from Bitcoin’s invention, came stablecoins, which in turn helped create a much more panoptic and centralized financial surveillance apparatus.

While destroying and rebuilding the contemporary internet on a decentralized, self-controlled, and encrypted standard is going to be the most profitable endeavor of the 21st century; I would seriously do it for free because I hate these limp-dicked, low-brow, spineless motherfuckers who would sell their own mother’s private gangbang porn to pornhub for 100 sats. Absolutely fuck these evil motherfuckers who have absolutely no understanding whatsoever of the damage they have done to society by reducing the whole of the internet to eyeball looks and clicks. Our data was never for sale, and reclaiming it will become one of the most important political events of the 21st century.

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.