HeyJaredMy Blameless Life
A relatively unknown author attempts to set the record straight about certain calamities for which he cannot, legally speaking, be held responsible.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 6
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- Sep 3, 2026
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- Jul 6, 2026
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Okay, So What Am I Doing? (opens the original)
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I don’t know if you ever saw Christopher Nolan’s movie Memento, but it starts with Guy Pearce running in the street, thinking:“Okay, so what am I doing? Oh, I’m chasing this guy. No — he’s chasing me.”My Blameless Life is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.<input class="email-input" name="email" tabindex="-1"
How I Discovered I Have a Neurological Disorder (opens the original)
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When my first child was born, I quit my job at Harvard to look after her full time. I’d worked in three different jobs at Harvard; the last two roles saw me building websites for medical researchers.One day, when my daughter was only about three weeks old, my friend Simon emailed me, wanting to know if I was interested in helping his friend Julia with a project. She was a young professor at MIT, and needed a simple website built for people with dyslexia. This was certainly something I could help
A Non-Violent Method for Becoming a Better Person (opens the original)
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In my last newsletter, I urged you not to judge me for my shenanigans; I was only twenty-four and enjoying the last days of psychotic youth.I had grown up in rural Queensland, and in a particularly bad era for casual violence. School bullies were everywhere; some of us felt like we were fighting for our lives. Even the teachers would hit us. Corporal Punishment, as it was called, wasn’t banned in Queensland Schools until 1995. So, when I wasn’t dodging my moody father or my unmedicated brother,
The First of Many Missteps in America (opens the original)
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My last newsletter was about me trying to tell my mother a story about a ghost, and how she kept interrupting with anecdotes about her mad friend, Norah, and her spider baby. What you’re about to read is the story I was trying to tell; she’s not a terribly good listener, my mother, so I hoped that if I wrote it all out, my life might start to make a little more sense to her, and she wouldn’t even need to listen to me, or even mention her mad friend, Norah, or her bloody spider baby. The trouble
Norah and the Spider Baby (opens the original)
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It was only when I moved to the United States that I finally learned that not everybody comes from a family of storytellers. I might have learned it in Australia but, somehow, it was something I had to learn overseas.I met my friend Zoya’s family in the Mid-West. They were a reserved folk, and not only with me but with each other. They were not effusive; they didn’t lapse into unexpected jokes or anecdotes, and couldn’t pull off any sort of foreign accent, or even impersonate a famous actor. The
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