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Latest — 29 Dec 2025

startup archetypes i've met

* Type: #learning Learnings One valuable thing i've gained being an early stage founder for ~4 years is — through experiences both joyful and traumatic, and always high stakes — developing a better understanding of the different early stage startup teammate/cofounder/employee archetypes. Below i've organized my thoughts,

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Go to the Limits of your Longing

By Rainer Maria Rilke God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame

Love Poem Beginning with a Yellow Cab

By José Olivarez for Erika i ask you what's the first thing you think about when you see the color yellow & like a real new yorker, you say yellow cabs. not sunlight or a yellow ribbon tied around a vase of fresh begonias. yellow cabs honking down

The Dead

By James Joyce Lily, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run oﬀ her feet. Hardly had she brought one gentleman into the little pantry behind the office on the ground floor and helped him oﬀ with his overcoat than the wheezy hall- door bell clanged again and she had

Requiem for Notre Dame

(in the style of Sylvia Plath) - Cold and smoldering, our lady Wanders barefoot along the fabled hall; Shattered panes through, drifts of prayer Like smoke over puddled wax. - Prayers that hugged the firm shoulders of a wooden cross Tangled in the ash huddle of stone and molten lead

Will You?

By Carrie Fountain When, at the end, the children wanted to add glitter to their valentines, I said no. I said nope, no, no glitter, and then, when they started to fuss, I found myself saying something my brother’s football coach used to bark from the sidelines when one

Replication Error

Sometimes the boy felt frustrated at his job. Early in the morning, long before the sun would rise, he put on his boots and followed his father out to the replication site where the helicase had already done his work and the primers lay in wait. In the blanket-like darkness

For Father

It has been fifteen years since something as simple as the muffled sound of a car engine shutting off in the driveway followed by the metal thud of a closing car door elicited such mixed emotions in me, a combination of anticipatory excitement and quiet dread that only a young

The Embassy of Cambodia

By Zadie Smith 💡Published in the print edition of the New Yorker, February 11 & 18, 2013, issue. 0 - 1 Who would expect the Embassy of Cambodia? Nobody. Nobody could have expected it, or be expecting it. It’s a surprise, to us all. The Embassy of Cambodia! Next

For Mother

There is a painting that I remember but can’t recall from back when my mother and I used to go to the museum together every Thursday. It was an abstract painting, possibly by Jackson Pollock — I can’t be too sure — but it was stormy and intricate and troubled

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