In the thing I wrote for the Paris Review about the Seymour-esque alpha nerds of the 90s and their gilded collections, I failed to reckon with two things: —Bad as they were, they lived their interests —They may have liked these things because they actually liked them
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Today everyone can know every nerdy thing within seconds, which is fine — google and Wikipedia overthrew the tyranny of the nerd encyclopedia man — and they can start a podcast about these things tomorrow. Never have hobbies felt so much like mere products in the marketplace
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I used to love weight training, because it was a very private thing I did in my basement or publicly at a “heavy duty” gym, but now I hate it...it’s just work. It helps me justify why I can sell weight training stories. And yet the stories are still kinda kayfabe, soft, fluffy
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All these people appear to be one eyed jacks, but I know what’s on the other side of their faces. And yet...I just push product like I push weight. But I suppose I’m still too young to know whether *** is any respecter of persons
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