Sedaris

Last night I attended “An Evening with David Sedaris.”

Without question, he's a storytelling genius. And it was a treat being in the audience as he made his stories come alive.

The majority of the performance was Sedaris reading selected stories … a stack of papers in his left hand … a pencil in his right.

“When the audience laughs, I make notes. And when the audience coughs, it’s like they’re throwing skulls at you. They’re telling you that if this was on the page, they would be skimming now. At the end of the night I’ll lay my story out on the hotel bed and look at my notes, and I’ll notice the flow of the laughter. I want there to be a rhythm to it. I want it to be like a roller coaster that the audience is strapped into.”

He didn’t say this last night … it was one of the quotes I found this morning, along with:

“The danger is writing something that just stops, instead of something that ends.”

“You need to be in the world and you need to be engaged with the world. It’s my job to collect jokes. It’s my job to collect startling images. And so when I’m out in the world, I’m at work. And I’m a professional.”

“You need to do the best that you can do, and then you need to take the best that you can do and you need to rewrite it, and rewrite it, and rewrite it.”

If he is appearing in your area, grab a ticket. You won’t be disappointed.

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David Sedaris (1956-) is an American humorist and essayist best known for his sardonic autobiographical stories and social commentary, which have appeared National Public Radio and in numerous best-selling books including “Barrel Fever” and his first New York Times Bestseller “Naked.” He has contributed over 40 essays to The New Yorker magazine and blog.

The Nose Is Too Big

 

Let me take you back to 1504.

We’re in Florence, Italy.

Michelangelo unveils David ... 17 feet of carved perfection. The city is in awe of the artist’s masterpiece.

Enter Piero Soderini, the head of the powerful Florentine Republic.

He studies the statue, nods, and declares that David’s nose is too big.

A "simple adjustment” is all that's needed.

Michelangelo, famously hot-tempered, surprisingly doesn't launch into a defense of his creative vision.

Instead, he climbs the ladder with marble chips and dust hidden in his hand. He then pretends to chisel while letting the debris fall to the ground.

When Soderini sees the “corrected” nose, he beams with satisfaction. The nose, unchanged, is now perfect in his eyes.

We’ve all been there: You hand the deliverable to the client, knowing you’ve hit the mark and the client offers feedback that could compromise your submission’s ability to get the desired job done.

Michelangelo knew altering the nose would compromise his vision. Instead of pushing back and risking a fallout, he delivered the illusion of change. And Soderini? He walked away feeling heard and pleased.

It was a clever solution, but was it ethical?

Should creatives sometimes “pull a Michelangelo” to protect their work while preserving client relationships? Or does this approach undermine trust and transparency?

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Me? In this situation, I think Michelangelo understood what Soderini really wanted.

A smaller nose? No.

Soderini wanted to be heard.

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TLDR from National Geographic: 10 reasons why "David" is so astonishing:

1. The colossal figure is 17 feet tall, equivalent to a 2-story building. It was carved from one enormous block of Carrara marble.

2. The block it was hewn from was damaged. Two sculptors were tasked with the commission before Michelangelo took over, but neither could successfully work the low-quality stone provided.

3. David's form accounted for the limitations of the stone. He is slim in figure and his head is pointed to the side - because the block was too narrow for him to face forward. His contrapposto poise accounted for a hole that already existed in the marble between the legs.

4. Michelangelo was only 26 when he started it and 28 when he finished. He was already one of the finest sculptors alive at that point, having completed the "Pietà" to the total disbelief of Rome when he was 24.

5. It was originally meant to sit atop the Florence Cathedral roofline. When it was complete, it was simply too beautiful, and large, to be hoisted up there, and was instead displayed at the Palazzo della Signoria.

6. Modern studies have found it to be anatomically perfect, except for one tiny muscle missing in the back. Michelangelo, who studied anatomy scrupulously, was aware of this - he later wrote that he was limited by a defect in the marble.

7. The jugular vein in David's neck is bulging, appropriate for someone in a state of fear or excitement (as the young shepherd would have been). Michelangelo evidently knew this was a feature of the circulatory system, but medical science didn't document this discovery for another 124 years.

8. It was stylistically groundbreaking. Earlier interpretations of David, such as by Donatello and Verrocchio, depicted him victorious over the already slain Goliath. Here, he's at the precipice of battle, his intense stare and furrowed brow depicting a contemplative moment.

9. David represents the idealized male form and proportion, a common theme of Classical Greek sculpture. But Michelangelo's work is much more naturalistic, rooted in an anatomical understanding which far surpassed the Greeks. David is both a beautiful representation of the ideal, yet astonishingly lifelike - a defining achievement of the Italian Renaissance.

10. Today, around 1.5 million people visit David every year. It has lived in the Accademia Gallery in Florence now for 150 years, since it was moved inside in 1873 to protect it from the elements.

Unsurprisingly, David earned the admiration of the great Renaissance artist and historian Giorgio Vasari:

"When all was finished, it cannot be denied that this work has carried off the palm from all other statues, modern or ancient, Greek or Latin; no other artwork is equal to it in any respect, with such just proportion, beauty and excellence did Michelangelo finish it."

Above the Fold

According to SEMrush: Above the fold (ATF) is the part of a webpage that you can see without scrolling down. The fold is the bottom edge of this initial view. Anything below that line requires scrolling and is considered “below the fold.”

I wonder how many people remember
the original meaning of "above the fold"?

To us old guys, "above the fold" referred to the content on the top half of the front page of a newspaper. To be stocked on a newsstand, the newspaper had to be physically folded ... and when folded, the headlines and lead stories above the fold were the most visible. Catchy headlines and vivid imagery (the original clickbait?) were placed in this area to attract readers’ attention and motivate them to buy the paper.

Language is funny ...
We are now referring to info "above the fold" on a device that doesn't fold. 

Maybe it's time for me to leave

 

There’s a moment in life when you start thinking less about climbing and more about landing. About what’s left. About what it all meant. And right now, as I look at the working world I’ll soon be leaving, I hardly recognize it.

The divide between those who run the companies and those who work for them has never been wider. The richest man in the world grins as he waves a chainsaw and brags about how many jobs he’s cut ... that tells you everything. Work, to them, is nothing but numbers: the bottom line and stock prices.

But for me and people like me, it’s always been more than that. It’s pride. It’s security. It’s community. It’s knowing you built something, contributed something, even if no one puts your name on a building. For decades, I worked not just to make a living but also to have a purpose and to take pride in a job well done. To provide for my family, sure, but also to be a part of something. Work was never just about money. It was also about dignity.

I remember when companies understood that. When success meant sharing the wins. When benefits were expected, not begged for. When a layoff was a last resort, not a badge of honor. I remember when the people at the top still seemed to care ... maybe not in some grand, altruistic way, but at least in a way that made you feel like more than a line item on an expense report.

Now? Now it’s different. Now it’s cold. Brutal. Layoffs are announced with a smirk and a toast. And the people left behind are told to be grateful it wasn’t them. Workers aren’t people anymore; they’re “redundancies.” They’re costs, not assets. Just numbers to be shuffled. Erased. Moved offshore. Pawns eliminated in actions renamed in corporate-speak to protect the brand: Rightsizing the organization. Optimizing operational efficiency. Strategic realignment.

This week alone, three friends lost their jobs. Happens all the time now. It’s happened to me before. And when it did, it wasn’t just about the money; it was about losing the structure, the purpose, the thing that kept my mind from spiraling in the quiet hours of the night.

That’s what these executives don’t understand. Work isn’t just a paycheck. It’s hope. It’s stability. It’s something to wake up for, something to fight for, something to believe in. Take that away, not just with the inevitability of change but with this smug, celebratory cruelty, and what do you think happens next?

This isn’t politics. This isn’t a debate. It’s reality. Income inequality is worse than ever. The job market is a disaster. Even the stock market (supposedly the god they worship) is reacting negatively. And still, the people in charge keep making the same choices, as if none of it will ever come back to bite them.

But it will. Because without workers who believe in the work, without people who still have hope, nothing works. Not for us. Not for them. Not for anyone. And I wonder, as I step toward the next chapter of my life, if those at the top will realize that before it’s too late.