Playing With Networking (Weekly Recap 11/1/2025)

Permission, Voice, and the Art of Showing Up: Finding Your Shot in a World That Demands Authenticity

Let's connect some dots from this week's notes...

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Before SNL and Portlandia, Fred Armisen was just a weird teenager who wrote fan mail to his hero. What matters isn't that John Waters replied - it's what he said. Waters recognized something in that letter: a kid who already knew he was different, already making his own movies, already taking shots that got him to a psychiatrist or kicked out of screenings. Waters didn't tell him to be normal. He told him to keep being weird, keep it funny, and most importantly - don't let anyone tell you that you can't do it. The genius part? Waters wrapped this permission slip inside encouragement. He acknowledged Armisen's oddness wasn't a bug, it was the feature. In a world obsessed with polish and permission from gatekeepers, what Armisen got was something rarer: an older artist saying, "Your weirdness is your superpower. Now develop it." That's the kind of answer that changes trajectories.

Quote from the Personal Archive - on what separates the original from the merely different

"Just remember to keep it funny because it's simple to just be disgusting but not so original. The most important thing is humor and originality."

Bruce Campbell calls actors "fugitives from reality who specialize in contradiction." He's equally a wide-eyed child and a cynical working stiff. Both at the same time. That contradiction isn't compromise - it's the depth that makes everything interesting. Campbell built his entire career in the margins: B-movies, indie productions, rural Michigan with friends and home video equipment. Nobody dreams of being a journeyman, but journeymen are the ones who make everything else work. Shot takers are artists. Not all shot takers become artists, and not all artists stay shot takers, but all artists definitely take shots. And here's the thing that matters most: you have to be the one to take it. You're the only one who can. When you have nothing to lose, you take shots. When you take shots without permission, you become interesting. Campbell didn't wait for Hollywood to hand him a career - he created one off to the side, independently, in the gaps where the big time wasn't looking. That's not desperation. That's vision.

Quote from the Personal Archive - on what makes a shot worth taking

"It's when you have nothing to lose that you take shots... all artists definitely take shots. You're the only one who can take it. That's the artist's way."

D'Angelo didn't create rhythm and soul in a vacuum. He was raised on The Hawkins Family - gospel music that moved and stacked and aligned in ways most of us never heard in church. Ray Charles took gospel and flipped it into the secular world. D'Angelo took what The Hawkins Family taught him and transformed modern music itself. Listen to "What Is This?" and then listen to "The Root" - same dynamically restrained drums, same way the backup vocals both lend support and lead in surprising directions, same way the whole thing slow dances together. As a kid, D'Angelo didn't pick this music. He was around it. It was happening. He gauged what felt good, what felt positive, and he let those influences collapse the barriers between gospel and secular, between what was supposed to stay separate. That's how artists work. They don't follow the dividing lines - they erase them. When the right artist shows up with the right influences, they don't just make music. They make history. They make it seem obvious that things were always supposed to blend this way.

Quote from the Personal Archive - on influence as inheritance

"The dynamically restrained but rhythmically rich drums, bass and guitar. The way the lead vocal leads, but the backups both lend backup and lead in various directions at surprising times. The way the whole track, from all the voices to the cymbals, slow dances together."

There's a difference between a moment that burns hot for a few years in your heart and dissolves organically, versus content designed to go viral and disappear by algorithm. One is alive in its time. The other is disposable by design. Dave Nadig came on to talk about why impermanence matters. He's talking about radio moments that didn't last forever but mattered completely. About music journalists who document not just "best of 2025" lists, but their actual curation engine in real time - showing people what their mind found beautiful and true in October, November, December. He's talking about Polaroids. You take a picture, let it set, throw it in a shoebox, tack it to your wall. Low friction. Preciously simple. We save the future and we protect the past by getting more present. When you stop to say "this matters" in the moment, and later you say "this mattered," you're doing something that algorithms can't buy and corporations can't manufacture. You're documenting your humanity.

Watch the full conversation here:

Quote from the Personal Archive - on why moments that disappear still matter

"There's a difference between a scene that burns hot for a few years in our hearts that dissolves organically, and a piece of content that goes viral only to disappear by algorithm... One is alive in its time. The other is disposable by design."

Adam Butler walked into an internet company's office unannounced to pitch a CEO. He stood outside waiting to catch him for coffee. His breakthrough wasn't a polished resume - it was surface area. He understood that opportunity is a numbers game. The more genuine connections you make, the more moments arise where something unexpected clicks. That "overdeveloped sense of confidence" he talks about isn't arrogance. It's the willingness to increase your contact with possibility. Most people wait for invitations. Adam creates his own. But here's what makes Adam's story complete: he didn't build his wins alone. He's still playing Dungeons & Dragons with the same crew he's known for decades - including his business partner. He knows his brain has advantages and disadvantages. His crew helps him see his blind spots and complement his gifts. That's not fixing himself. That's wisdom. You find good people who see your whole self, who speak your language (his is D&D, yours might be music or something equally strange), and you build something together. The crew doesn't fix you. The crew helps you direct your unique wiring toward progress. That's legacy.

Watch the full conversation here:

Quote from the Personal Archive - on surface area as strategy

"It's just like it's surface area, right? You just have to touch enough potential opportunities that something clicks. And, in order to have the urgency or energy to go and do that, it requires this overdeveloped sense of confidence."

Dave Nadig embodies something rare: the commitment to showing up authentically in multiple spaces. He excels at his day job in finance and research, and he never loses sight of what makes him him - music journalism, playlist curation, human connection. When alignment exists between opportunity, mission, and people, resistance becomes resistance to your own path. You don't have to try so hard. Things flow. Dave recognized that when Matt Middleton showed up with a reimagined version of a job he'd left behind, all the pieces aligned. Off he went. But what makes Dave's curation engine special is that he's not just making playlists. He's documenting windows into how one person's mind works. Documentary playlists. Temporal snapshots. A record of what mattered to him in October 2025. Three hundred people at a one-hit-wonder throwback festival - fully locked in with a band from another era - that's not a compromise. That's where the real magic lives. The "matrix connection" between stage and crowd, between past and present, between strangers who became witnesses to something real together. In an age of infinite choice and distraction, that kind of singular focus and mutual presence is becoming rarer and more precious. And it's worth documenting.

Quote from the Personal Archive - on curation as legacy

"You're getting this window into just one person's curation engine... when you choose what's actually worth documenting, you get to align yourself in the activity. And that's the difference between a Personal Archive and a pile of screenshots."

Where Else I Showed Up This Week

Some exciting momentum outside the normal newsletter and YouTubes! Panoptica.ai - the project I've been working on with Ben Hunt., Rusty Guinn and the rest of the Epsilon Theory crew is LIVE! Come check out the site, and definitely stop on Stories of America. Here, we’re tracking eight of our oldest national narratives in real time, with a series of fantastic reflections from the likes of Aaron Gwyn, Daryl Morey (yeah, go Sixers!), Grant Williams, and - just look.

On the storyboards, which I expect to be talking a lot about in the near future, we're measuring how Americans are telling these stories, what they’re not telling anymore, and the evolution of these stories over time - from birth to demise. It's ambitious, it's intricate, and it matters. Rusty's got a beautiful welcome essay framing the entire project. If you care about how narratives shape nations, go read it - it's exactly the kind of thinking that changes how you see the world. Check out the full Panoptica launch and do spend some time with Rusty's piece.

Personal Archive Prompts

When was the last time you paused to understand not just what someone was saying, but where they're coming from when they said it?

WHO HAS GIVEN YOU PERMISSION TO BE YOURSELF, and what did that permission actually enable in your life?

How are you currently pointing your awareness - toward the margins where real shots are being taken, or toward the polished center where everyone's waiting?

What influences from your childhood - the music, the people, the oddness you were around - are you still unpacking and transforming into your own unique voice?

WHY DO SOME MOMENTS MATTER MORE WHEN THEY DON'T LAST FOREVER, and what does that teach you about what you're building right now?

Who in your life helps you see your blind spots and complement what makes you uniquely you?

What curation engine of yours - the unique way you see, discover, and connect with ideas - is worth documenting for others to find?

As always, I did my part, now it's your turn to write some reflections in your own Personal Archive.

(then, be sure to let me know where you're keeping it, I'm in search of the others too)

ps. Claude helped me organize and synthesize these thoughts from the week's posts. If you are curious how I use AI, read this post: Did AI Do That: Personal Rules