POCKET NOTEBOOK

More coming soon.

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Starting with The Feminist, Tony imo dares his audience to put down the book. One could imagine him smirking if they did. Through the story and its protagonist, Tulathimutte sets up one of the many central critiques: that people are so much more concerned with appearing a certain way — the ideologically pure way — to an in-group, rather than just trying to live their life. I believe the story (and its successors) bears out the inauthentic, quixotic, and at many times hypocritical nature of this behavior. We've blown past doing things (charity, activism) for their sake, and instead have turned them into identities and values in and of themselves. But if that's all you are, and you can't recognize the incongruities, you end up living a lie, and policing others into living within your lie.

Crucially, though, as we see with the Feminist, it's not that the particular ideal is wrong. Rather, the clinging to an identity at-all-costs, the rapprochement of the out-group without self-reflection, the ultimate lack of grace extended to others — these exist just as much before our protagonist devolves as they do after. Tony doesn't set up a contrast here, but a mirror image comparison.

Ultimately, what is posited in the first story is a critique of virtue ethics vs. consequentialism that will persist throughout the collection.

The next story, Pics, demonstrates the carnivorous nature of the in-group. In tackling the inherent negativity behind what I'll call 'positivity culture' and therapy speak, the author highlights that in our quest for good vibes and acceptance, we've instead landed on a fragile superficiality that permeates many relationships in the digital era. This book has me question the nature of my present relationships that have roots before and after the rise of these phenomena — is there more grace extended because the roots are longer, or because we developed early a trust that is much more difficult to extend now?

Ahegao is perhaps the most brilliant story for its masterful use of the extreme, however the manifestation of its hyperbole is the reason many will find the collection hard to recommend. The story first touches on dating app culture, prescient to all but perhaps none more than the gay community. While ruminating on The Apps, our protagonist is described with: "Even as he is vexed to discover his unjustified pickiness, what really inhibits him is imagining the men on the other end looking at his own unsmiling, gormless photo and laughing at it" — highlighting a tragedy of social media and dating app culture: we know the superficiality and the ruthless judging it brings out of us. But we can't stop, and eventually it turns inward.

But the true genius of Ahegao lies in its 10+ page description of a sexual fantasy that blows past raunchy, disgusting, and debaucherous, to instead land on some indescribable fourth thing that your body and mind will try to reject, but your eyes will defiantly read on. It's with this fantasy — in the form of a script for made-to-order "content" — that Tony delivers his message: the internet can provide a satisfaction of fantasies that the real world just cannot compete with. The fantasy allows for an expansion of the critique to the entire internet ecosystem. If one can satisfy their demand for even their most lurid fantasy by recusing themselves from society, what preference can't be satisfied with the internet? If one can define the hex code for the preferred color of bodily fluid in their made-to-order fantasy, why can't they demand that their online communities follow a strict social code? Why would they venture outside to a world that does not bend to their whims at all?

Perhaps most brilliant is Tulathimutte making obvious that our protagonist isn't even truly satisfied by either the internet or reality. He knows that the realization of the fantasy is not in fact real, but yet still that no reality can compete. He's lost, but he can't step back from this ledge.

Our Dope Future — initially difficult to see where it was heading — proved a clear repudiation of internet echo chambers, and how these chambers often lead to a distortion of understanding of what are common values.

For Main Character, I want to highlight a quote that I believe is a perfect companion to Ahegao: "This is one reason I've never been considered a credible witness to my own life. I go to extremes because I assume, usually correctly, that nobody will pay attention otherwise, but then I'm regarded as hysterical or pretentious, or else I'm being disingenuous, or contrarian, or I'm playing a card, or going for cheap shock — You don't really mean that, do you? The more people try to eyeroll me into rectitude the more I always go the other way."

Here, we see the most direct manifestations of Tony's critiques, including what he originally set up in The Feminist when he writes: "which just goes to my point that all identarian politics are homologous: even when they represent opposing values, all are engaged in a vigorous pledge to the same principle of belonging."

Ultimately, one of Rejection's final arguments proves one of its most powerful: "In a real community bonds are hard to dissolve and antagonisms must be sustained, there's continuity, and unavoidable neighbors" — traits that are just not found in online communities, and communities policed like online communities.

Rejection, I believe, calls among the left for a more healthy discourse, healthy disagreement, and above all, a grace that we have not extended to one another, to all of our peril.

a note from 2026: i wrote this essay as an assignment for english class in my junior year of high school. i've chosen to include it here, unedited, because i feel this was a pivotal moment for me in my life, captures a sentiment i largely share today, and a point in time that i find quaint and like to look back on.

With papers scattered across my desk and adorning the floor, I continue my studying just as I was doing the day prior. And the day before that. And before that one as well. Truth be told, it often seems that despite the raw effects of pressing my pencil to the paper, the advent often seems purposeless.

Yet still I work, continuing under the pressure reinforced by the promise of a brighter future. That's what I am working for, isn't it? That's why, against the wishes of my body, friends, and family, I am awake three hours past usual, kept awake by caffeine and kept from quitting by the future dread I would feel. The discontent that would cloud my day, reinforcing the idea that I am not worthy, I need to work harder. And so I stay awake, so I keep working, and so the cycle continues, ad infinitum.

It's true that I have grown as a result of this drive. I've gotten smarter, my grades have increased, and interests have been spurred, but at what cost? Surely there is much to gain; my dream college is more likely to accept me, I'll be more knowledgeable, and likely be paid more in the future. But will I be happier? As it stands, peace and joy both prove to be illusive as, for me, they're nearly impossible to find without success. The quandary complicates itself further as with each growth, I find myself redefining what it means to be successful.

This year, I advanced to DECA internationals, unlike the year previous. This year, I am successful. But will I be next year, even if I make it to the same level? And what would result from not advancing next year? Likely, even more disappointment than from my first year. What have I learned? Expectations define how I view my past, present, and future self, and deriving long-term happiness from success alone is dangerous.

Many of us, if not all, have work or school goals. I had a goal last year; I wanted to score among the highest in our class for our AP Biology tests. I studied like I never had before, foregoing both social activities and sleep and redefining what hard work was to myself. No longer did I see the familiar double digit grade stamped on my Scantron as was always expected the year prior. I regularly began scoring above the curve, exceeding my own expectations and certainly completing my goal. But what now?

The papers littering my floor, what are they for? What purpose did they serve? They were completed mostly not for now, not for their own sake, but for future me's sake. The issue comes when I am always chasing the future. I can chase those grades, and get them. I can chase that dream college, and get that too. Ultimately, I can chase that high paying job, and of course get that as well, but if all my priorities are forever focused on a chase for the future, I will never truly be accomplished, nor will I ever appreciate life. If I am never accomplished, then what is the point, really? The lesson here is that work should not be my life, it should support my life.

I picked up one of those papers that blanketed my floor at random. Like all my AP Psychology notes, nothing was printed on the back, so I began to write. In one minute, the formerly blank paper had just a few words on it:

Current goals:
Advance to FBLA Nationals this Saturday
Get a 90 in Math Analysis
Get into UVA

I noticed an unfortunate pattern. All of my goals, the motivators that force me to rise out of bed in the morning, revolve around school. I have no personal or life goals outside of that, and that is why things seem purposeless. "You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need," is a lyric from Billy Joel's "Vienna" that defines this dilemma, as ambition and the longing for self-actualization are driving me further into what could be rather than appreciating what is. With papers scattered across my desk and adorning my floor, I should be ranking up in Counter Strike: Global Offensive, reading The Book Thief, or giving more attention to my girlfriend, because these are goals that motivate me to be happy, not just be.