I lost weight using two simple tricks (and you can too)

I lost 15 pounds in six weeks. I went from 190 pounds to 175, and have stayed at 175 for two months. All I changed is what I ate and how much.

The first trick is what to avoid eating: Avoid simple carbohydrates, and absolutely no sugary food! Before this experiment I had a very carb-heavy diet (i.e., one built around cereals, rice, pasta, potatoes), and I never abstained from desserts. In my experience, eating simple carbohydrates – especially sugars – leads to blood-sugar crashes that make me extremely hungry after a few hours. When I cut out sugar I never experience hunger like that. So I stick to vegetables and protein. (My go-to snack now is a Pure Protein bar.)

The second trick is to eat less. Before this experiment I didn’t have any portion control: I would whatever was served, and at a shared meal I would volunteer to finish anything that was left. Now the question became how little can I eat? I could eat two hamburgers, but I can also eat just one. Where before I would pour a full bowl of cereal, now I pour half a bowl. Less also means avoiding extra fats when possible. So no adding butter or mayonnaise to things. No fatty/starchy snack foods. Nothing deep-fried.

Eating less actually reduced my stomach capacity. I get full on less food, and I can’t eat as much in a sitting as I used to.

Neither of these tricks completely eliminates hunger or cravings, but not being fully satisfied at all times is part of life. The only thing I allow myself to eat outside of mealtimes are protein bars, carrots, or diet soda. That’s it. A simple rule, so there’s no thinking, no bargaining, no calorie counting. And no way to not lose weight!

(NB: Some cravings might be driven by nutritional deficits, so I take a daily multi-vitamin. As long as I have body fat I don’t have a calorie deficit.)

AI Image Generators

I just got beta access to DALL-E, OpenAI’s large-language-model-based diffusion image generator. It’s a very interesting tool to play with.

Thomas loves cats and is showing exceptional aptitude at fencing, so I asked DALL-E for a “Vermeer style portrait of a dignified cat posing as an olympic fencer wearing a white vest and holding his saber in one arm and mask in the other.” Here are some of the results:

My war against advertising algorithms

I went to Costco.com to check the price of a vacuum my mom wanted. Now I’m getting ads for it.

I couldn’t figure out how to get a trial of Adobe Creative Cloud off my computer. My search for their hidden uninstall tool now has me getting ads for Adobe services even though I despise them and was only searching how to get rid of them.

Do I click on the ad to make Adobe pay? Or do I not click, even on things that interest me, because I don’t want the algo to win?

How much water is in the air?

My skin and sinuses don’t like dry air, and nothing dries air like heating it: Heat freezing air at 40% relative humidity (RH) to room temperature and the relative humidity drops below 10%, which is as dry as deserts at noon!

So when indoor heat comes on in the winter I break out the humidifiers. If my living space has a central air handler I install an automatic humidifier on that. If not I have to manually fill portable humidifiers. Which led me to wonder: How much water does it take to bring the humidity in dry air back up to comfortable levels?

It turns out that the moisture capacity of air is very non-linear with temperature: For example, air at 100°F holds 10 times as much water as freezing air!

Thanks to data here we can see that air at room temperature (20°C/68°F) holds up to 17g of water per cubic meter. So a 1000ft2 living space with 9-foot ceilings can hold just over 4kg, or 1 gallon of water, at 100%RH.

Humidity in living spaces should be kept below 50%RH because mold really thrives above that level. So when outdoor air is below freezing we need to add half a gallon of water to the heated indoor air of my hypothetical 1000ft2 living space. But healthy living spaces also exchange fresh air – ASHRAE recommends eight air changes per day – so if that living space is properly ventilated then we will have to add four gallons of water per day!

The Immortality Key

The Immortality Key is an important book. I had only read the Forward and half of the Introduction when I was convinced of the book’s essential thesis:

  • The human psyche has an innate capacity for a common experience of “transcendence,” which in our cultural terms might be called “seeing or knowing God.” Transcendence can be found across cultures and time in religious archetypes and practices. But most humans can only obtain the real transcendental experience with the aid of entheogenic (a.k.a. psychedelic) chemicals.
  • Humans going back to prehistoric times have made ritualistic use of natural entheogens. Many have emphasized that the transcendence found through these chemically-enhanced rituals is critical to the well-being not only of individuals but also of human society.
  • It appears that a single powerful entheogenic experience is sufficient to convert a person for life. (For example, Greeks who underwent the entheogenic ritual at Eleusis were given the title epoptēs, or “witness.” And ongoing research with entheogens has found that a single dose of psilocybin can relieve major depression.)
  • Spiritual use of entheogens has perhaps been stigmatized by abuse in the 1960s and 1970s. The hippie movement profaned the use of entheogens that were, and probably should be, sacred.
  • Modern organized religions and governments have nefariously eliminated access to entheogens. For example, it is astonishing that chemicals like psilocybin and LSD have been banned under DEA Schedule 1, which is reserved for substances “that have a high chance of being abused or causing addiction, and no FDA-approved medical use,” whereas scientific research has always found them to be non-addictive, with low potential for abuse.

How do you “see God?” As with all human traits, there is a spectrum of capacity. Some people are gifted (or afflicted) with transcendental vision – most likely many of those called prophets. For many more people, transcendent vision can be obtained through devoted fasting, prayer, scourging, or meditation. But it appears that anyone can transcend with the use of entheogenic chemicals. The Immortality Key impresses the notion that Christianity is (in my words) a relatively dead religion: Christian doctrine correctly describes transcendence, but Christian rituals are hollow versions of those that humans have relied on for tens of thousands of years to actually experience transcendence. Yes, these hollow rituals are sufficient for some. For others, like me, they at best offer one fleeting glimpses of transcendence.

The Immortality Key has its shortcomings. After the first few chapters the author bogs down flogging the Pagan Continuity Hypothesis and exulting over his discovery of small scraps of evidence he found in a decade of research. Jerry Brown wrote a good review that should be read to put the book in its proper place.

The book does expound upon a few other worthwhile points. The author is an academic classicist, and along the way he (like all classicists) impresses on the reader how little our culture has evolved from that developed by the Greeks in the first millennium BC. Then he details the shocking efforts by early Christians to try to erase that culture. They nearly did, most unconscionably by burning the library at Alexandria. Today we have only 1% of classical texts known to have existed.

The last chapter is an interesting read: It shows how the concept of “witches” was developed by the middle Catholic Church and used to destroy whatever western folk knowledge of entheogens may have otherwise survived. Then, Christian missionaries in the Americas largely succeeded (often through the force of government) to suppress entheogenic use among indigenous Americans. Hopefully we are now at the end of the war on entheogens and the revival of mainstream acceptance of and access to transcendental experience.

Why We Make Things

I recently listened to Peter Korn’s book Why We Make Things and Why It Matters: The Education of a Craftsman. (Like most books, the substance is concentrated in the beginning; and roughly a third of the way in the book becomes relatively unimportant; and the last third often seems like filler to make it long enough to bind and sell as a traditional book.) It is a good exploration of man’s search for meaning, and how man finds meaning in craftsmanship. And I think this is a particularly male struggle: The female psyche finds meaning in the people around her, and particularly in that most powerful and consummate of bonds: between a mother and her children. But the maturing male psyche detaches, leaving him adrift in abject existential loneliness. To become a man he has to discover or build his purpose. He may find meaning in social spheres, but he can also find meaning in the creation or nurturing of things – i.e., he can find meaning as a craftsman.

Korn beautifully describes the nature of craftsmanship – how an artisan develops intuition and connection with materials and processes; the state of “flow” a master can attain practicing his art. And Korn repeats lamentations about how the industrial revolution turned craftsmen into automata, destroying the opportunity for so many working men to find essential meaning in their labor.

Resuming Violin – Part 1

The peak of my violin study was about age 14, before I went to boarding high school. I took my violin to and from school, but I didn’t tackle any new pieces and I played it with decreasing frequency. In my twenties and thirties there were periods as long as five years where I never took it out of its case. It was always easier to sit down at a piano than to open the violin case, attach the shoulder rest, tighten the bow, tune the strings, warm up the muscle memory….

A few years ago a friend who plays in a local church orchestra noted that they could use more violinists. It was a low-key affair – rehearsals once a week, performance in Sunday services once a month, and missing either was not a big problem. I joined a second violin section that varied from 2-4 other violinists. It was fun. And I bumped in to a few very good violinists who inspired me to dust off my skills.

With my violin regularly coming out of its case, I began to spend time working on my technique, instead of just blasting through the canon of pieces I had maintained from my teenage years (e.g., Vivaldi’s Four Seasons). Now in my forties I had a level of patience for technical exercises and practice that was sorely lacking in earlier decades. It was time to tackle something new.

One rehearsal I was talking to the best violinist in the orchestra, who had let his violin practice go fallow for some years as he worked on his legal career, and who said he was also renewing his study. “With what?” I asked. He replied, “I decided to go back to the beginning, so I started with the Bach Sonatas.” Of course!

There are some movements in the Bach Sonatas for solo violin that I have always loved. The fugue in the second sonata (BWV 1001) in particular called to me. In my late teens I obtained the sheet music but I didn’t get more than two lines into it before I gave up. But now … I have patience!

My Verbal Degeneration

As something of both a thinker and an archivist, I have always felt compelled to commit my thoughts to writing. I began journaling as a pre-teen and accumulated almost half a million words by age 30, at which point I took a friend’s advice and began blogging instead. When I had an idea I usually found it easy to expound it to my satisfaction in short order. But over the last decade this ability has degenerated. Today I have dozens of notes and drafts that have not made it to a finished post. I struggle to organize, articulate, and elaborate my thoughts. They’re stuck in my head in a state somewhere between jumbled notions and coherent exposition. The posts that do make it onto my blogs are usually the less-than-satisfying product of a long struggle at wordsmithing. I imagine that this is what it feels like to have a debilitating stroke: I remember being able to do something with facility that I can now only do with halting effort. I can see that I have become dumb.

When it comes to things like math and computer programming I have always been considered “smart.” When I interact with people who struggle with those activities I have often wondered how much of what we call “smarts” is the presence of intelligence as opposed to the absence of impairment. My skill in those arts often seems like clarity in comparison to the clouds and confusion that seem to beset those who struggle. From that perspective I do not feel intelligent so much as I feel unimpaired.

Looking at the state of my verbal skills I feel impaired. My awareness of this impairment has been piqued as I have begun reading Scott Alexander’s blog: That is a guy who can draw and weave every thread on a topic into a crisp expositional tapestry. Where my thoughts are a jumble of fraying twine he writes with supreme clarity. Another blogger explained better than I could just how brilliant a writer Alexander is:

At his best, he hits some strange triple point, previously undiscovered by bloggers, where data, theory, and emotion can coexist in equilibrium. Most writing on topics as abstract and technical as his struggles just not to be dry; it takes effort to focus, and I need energy to read them. Scott’s writing flows so well that it somehow generates its own energy, like some sort of perpetual motion machine.

https://jasoncrawford.org/guide-to-scott-alexander-and-slate-star-codex