The Last Romantic
from the desk

Notes

Short things, written between the letters. They land here soon after they are posted on Substack.

  1. First half of day:

    4:30 — Alarm

    4:30-5:30 — Get ready, play with doggo

    5:30-6:00 — Office setup

    6:00-7:00 — Me time: Writing, Reading, Set Intentions

    7:00-4:00 — Meetings

    On Substack →

  2. And let me not get started about how it’s like being an artist that works in AI labs.

    I offload skills I am willing to lose.

    Thinking has never been one of those skills.

    Writing takes critical thinking.

    I can’t even read on a Kindle.

    This artist v AI thing is exactly why I try to bridge the gap between the creative and technical. Two sides of the same intellectual coin, here. We must empower one another.

    On Substack →

  3. Part of the reason I will continue staying at the frontier-AI labs/places where I have access to learn more about AI is precisely this.

    I am self taught, and there’s never been a better time to lack traditional schooling, which I have long believed kills creativity.

    The gap is getting wider and wider, and like running a relay, it’s going to take way more energy and effort to catch up to the person ahead.

    But I urge you — don’t let that deter you.

    Start today. You’ll already be ahead of most.

    Sep-Oct 2026 Assorted Linksa letter from The Last Romantic

    On Substack →

  4. I welcome challenge.

    It is the only time I am pushed to grow,

    the only time anything in me moves.

    So I persevere. I transform.

    I keep going. Not only for me.

    Somewhere out there is a little girl growing up the way I did.

    Somewhere in the streets,

    already certain she has been forgotten.

    If I can be seen, if I can be found,

    she may stumble across me on an ordinary day and feel a thing she has no name for yet.

    Hope.

    And she will go on to build something far greater than any escape that ends by morning.

    On Substack →

  6. Congratulations Michael Nazari we just have to clock in day in and day out

    Sidenote

    Can’t believe u ignoring me and I gotta be a paid subscriber to read ur fashion post like ??? As if I ain’t responsible/ at least consulted on the RACI

    I’m one month into taking Substack seriously and October brought in 49 new subscribers and 1 paid reader.

    What worked was writing about my own life, and putting part of a post behind a free signup.

    Keep going ya’ll. Progress is slow until it all of the sudden isn’t.

    On Substack →

  10. It's cheap to call it empathy.

    Cheaper to call it energy.

    I don't know what it is.

    I know we are human.

    There is nothing special about me.

    I only take it in.

    Whatever is handed to me, I hold,

    and I don't put it down when the room empties.

    By the end of the day I am full of other lives.

    I carry them home like water in cupped hands,

    careful not to spill what isn't mine.

    How deeply I think, and feel.

    I know in my soul there is more than one lifetime,

    some infinite arrangement of all of us having

    already known each other.

    That is how deep I mean.

    You think and think and think.

    My mentor told me today:

    it's a tall order to ask someone to meet you at what you need.

    You think, and think, and rarer yet

    You articulate it all.

    So I go down alone and wait there,

    and leave the light on.

    It isn't sinking.

    I'm diving,

    But there’s a world

    Where we’re not drowning

    We’re flying.

    On Substack →

  11. Restacked from Michael Nazari

    Unpopular opinion: if you don't have a better plan just follow someone else’s until you do.

    I went to college and almost dropped out because I felt like it wasn’t for me. But if I dropped out I would have been so lost as to what I should do as a 20-year-old. I’m glad I finished my degree.

    Then I tried the jobs that everyone else was doing, and almost committed to working in the medical field.

    Try other people’s path when you don’t know what path to try. At the very least you’ll learn they’re not for you. Then when you walk down your own path you’ll do so with more confidence.

    On Substack →

  12. Be really good at what you do.

    Then dress how you want.

    On Substack →

  13. Applications closed!

    Honored to work with someone who in <12hrs

    -Gave me a personalized backstory

    -A custom menu of services and pricing

    -Resume I didn’t even need to see.

    I genuinely do not care about the inevitable sneering and judging of me hiring someone for this, but I will leave you with this:

    “Money only exists in our collective imagination as a fiction made from words. We can make more money and we can make less money, but we cannot buy more time.”

    —Writer who wakes up at 4 am, and would like to wake up at 5 am.

    —Business owner who would like more time spent with loved ones

    —Manager who would like to get deep work done within working hours

    But most importantly

    —Puppy that would like someone to play fetch.

    Are you in the Austin area and looking for a part time admin job for someone super cool (me) who will not be mean and will feed you? #austin #UT

    On Substack →

  15. I believe sometimes, people break writers’ hearts on purpose to be immortalized. And, the universe also makes it so, so that art, can be created.

    Proof of Projection

    This morning I opened the fridge and took out my love potion,

    the one I had avoided for three months because his ex cursed him once.

    I had tried to explain.

    It was for self-love, a sauce for the deepest aches.

    He did not care, and so it sat untouched,

    the first thing of mine he read as hers.

    I opened it in the shower.

    My hand cut right open, blood pouring everywhere,

    the water going pink at the drain,

    and I realized what I had done.

    Scared of ever saying anything to make the stars in his eyes go away,

    I had dimmed the exact person I was.

    Here is the rest of the evidence.

    An ex had manipulated him.

    A boss had, too.

    Friends had abandoned him.

    So my words were chosen carefully,

    and when his eyes lit up at the people who loved him,

    I vowed to connect them all,

    while my own friends sat waiting.

    What if I just expressed a need?

    Well, he’d need to be told explicitly, he'd say.

    And where is the romance in that?

    But it didn’t matter;

    men believe their presence is simply enough.

    What if I had a rough week?

    What if I said how I felt,

    clumsy and all?

    Oh no. Another ex had harmed him that way.

    So all I could do was cry.

    Well, you can’t cry — that’s proof this is wrong.

    It didn’t matter if he saw more friends now,

    He wants freedom to text the friends four times removed,

    The ones whose names I’ll never know.

    All I wanted was an apology,

    but another ex had made him apologize for everything,

    so I tried, and tried, and ran myself ragged.

    Now count the rules.

    Every one of them had an author,

    and not one of the authors was me.

    The woman he was guarding against was never in the room.

    The child in me wished he could change.

    The adult realizes somewhere in the world,

    the healed man who can hold me exists.

    On my deathbed I will not wish for more roses or more doors held open,

    though I love those like any other lady.

    I will wish to have been regarded the way I regarded him,

    when I penned those letters and connected him

    to the people he loves.

    On Substack →

  16. Thoughtful readers are my favorite. This may inspire another follow up.

    On Substack →

  18. Are you in the Austin area and looking for a part time admin job for someone super cool (me) who will not be mean and will feed you? #austin #UT

    On Substack →

  23. I have never considered myself the main character—I’m simply the writer that allows experiences to flow through, like water.

    On Substack →

The rest are on Substack →