Author: Nick Kempinski

  • Rose Coloured Glasses

    While I’m a big fan of Prismatic, I feel there’s something missing.

    It’s refining, and refining, and refining what I read and what I want to read, but lately it’s feeling very one sided – my techie geek/start-up side. It’s perfectly understandable why, and I’m not going to say it’s wrong. But…

    I am more than that. I think we are all more.

    As websites strive to refine our behaviours they don’t account for the anomalies in our lives. They will never be able to create an algorithm for our Guilty Pleasures where we step outside of dominant patterns, and of course look over our shoulders, “Is anyone watching?”

    They assume we always look at the world with the same rose coloured glasses – but our patterns can be more complex then that.

    • I might love techno pop when I’m feeling at my lowest.
    • I might watch RomCom’s when my partner is away on her businesss trips
    • I might need an article about art & design when I’m stumped on finding a solution
    • I might quietly love an argument, wanting opposing views to be pissed at

    These things can’t be quantified or algorithm-ed. These are the pockets that make us unique, make us dynamic & distinct, make us human.

  • Reconnect

    Makes me feel a little sad and guilty.

  • Suits Radio

    If someone launches a “suits” radio station. I would listen! Wait, SoundCloud is my friend 😛

  • Transparent Speaker

    The transparent speaker? Very cool.

  • Not cool.

    Soooo would have done something unmanly.

    Source: https://www.youtube.com/

  • red whale

    where is this island, this thought? to find the shore i’ll seek its waves, the ripples
    as it moves about like a weighted freighter
    spewing rusted ruffage, powdery rouge

    that red whale! for others white
    and when my toes can bleed across its shores
    i’ll finally break it down, smelt it, smash it to the deep
    watch it writhe as it drowns, caked in its own vomit

    i’ll do the back stroke above a watery grave
    looking to the blue sky and whistling with a smile
    the sound of silence, of wind, of breath
    a calm night to finally rest my shoulders on.

  • Time of the introvert

    It’s nice that introverts are getting more attention.

    In the recent slew was this one from the Huffington Post about signs of introverts. Here are the ones that most jumped out at me:

    • You go to parties -– but not to meet people.
    • Downtime doesn’t feel unproductive to you.
    • Giving a talk in front of 500 people is less stressful than having to mingle with those people afterwards.
    • When you get on the subway, you sit at the end of the bench — not in the middle.
    • You’re in a relationship with an extrovert.

    There are, of course, more that I connect with than others. And yes, one or two that I don’t think relate to me at all. Either way – sounds pretty damn close.


    While “Introvert” may or may not be groundbreaking anymore, keep in my this was originally written about a year ago in an old defunct blog of mine.
    I am blowing off the dust and giving this a new home.

    Creative commons featured image courtesy of roberttellier

  • A Confused Voice

    What is this “Confused Voice”?
    What is is; What is isn’t.

    Confused Voice? Does that mean you “hear” voices?

    No. I do not hear voices [ right now ]. This is about my personal voice, and being comfortable with who I am. If you want information about how to cope with hearing voices and how to manage, I suggest you look somewhere else

    So you’re “confused”?

    Yes. I am. I’m trying to figure out who I want to be. People who “know in their bones” who they are, and who they want to be, are mesmerizing. They are without apology or restraint. I want that. At certain points in my life, I thought I was getting there, I felt a strong certainty… then… it… faded. Life happened. I happened. Doubt. Confusion. Fear.

    What it’s all about.

    This is a form of shock therapy for me. I could write a personal journal, you know, the old fashioned way, where I swear and yell and scream with vowels and then hide the tattered pages under my bed. Not saying those pages aren’t there in the shadows, just, they aren’t helping. I need to say these things out loud in a crowded room. Not shy away. So it needs to be public.

    There will be fucking swearing. I struggle with censorship. Self censorship mostly, hence the tagline. It’s this little voice inside my head that says, “if you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t post it.” And generally it’s a great rule of thumb and works very well for my day job. But what’s ended up happening is slowly what I defined as “nice” ended up being “don’t offend” and “please everyone” — and there’s the problem. So there’s not going to be censoring — matter of fact ( more for my benefit than your’s )… elephant fucking, shit tard, cock nuggets, penis!! Done.

    I’ve done this several times in several ways — start, stop, start, stop, get distracted by something sparkly, forget, then it rots. I would love to say that I won’t do that again — but at least not today.


    Originally written about a year ago in an old defunct blog of mine.
    I am blowing off the dust and giving this a new home.