MegaFishbein is a collection of lessons, life-hacks, and lifestyle: A journey of a creative hell-bent on perfecting his process.
Pathologically curious and never satisfied with the "norms".
Featured
I was deep in another edit session when a message blinked onto my screen:
“We’ve heard about this thing called FEST. We might want to go.
Would you want to shoot it?”
I actually laughed. Heard of it? I’d been circling this scene for years. Friends With Benefits—the FWB DAO—was the first collective where I felt my weird tangle of polymath proclivities made sense: art, music, crypto, tech, film philosophy. Every summer, they threw a gathering in the redwoods of Idyllwild.
FEST.
It began by accident. I was walking to a Portland Timbers match, looking for something light to pass the time at halftime. Fifteen minutes to read, that was the goal. I slipped into Powell’s on the way, scanning spines the way you might scan a grocery shelf when you’re hungry but not sure what for. I walked out with Walking in the Woods, the English version of a Japanese text about Shinrin-yoku — forest bathing.
In 2023, Ruby Thelot wrote an essay called How to Develop Taste. It’s good. The kind of essay that makes me jealous, makes me feel like I’ve been circling around an idea for years but someone else went ahead and nailed it down in clean type. He wrote about how to develop taste: touch things, listen, say yes, archive, love. And I kept nodding along, thinking, yes, yes, yes…
And also…damn, damn, damn.
Ruby wrote the instruction manual. What follows is my confession.
There’s a fantasy that haunts every creative entrepreneur: the idea of setting up passive systems so the business runs itself.
But here’s the truth — passive systems are never passive.
They’re replicators, not replacers.
Every time I experiment with new tools, AI systems, or organizational changes at BRAEID, I realize: I’m not stepping away from the business. I’m extending myself. I’m magnifying my reach. And now, as I prepare to hire a client project manager — someone who, ideally, works fluently alongside AI tools and can manage accounts, follow-ups, deliverables, and billing — I’m confronting the deepest layer of the passive system myth.
The question isn’t “Can they do the work?”
The real question is: Can they extend me?
Over the years, I’ve noticed something curious: though I self-identify as a pathological productivity obsessive, my best decisions never seem to come from a spreadsheet. They emerge from somewhere else—a way of seeing, building, and evaluating that I rarely take the time to articulate.
So today, I’m writing down what I’ve never said aloud: the implicit code I live by.
"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."
This African proverb encapsulates a paradox every entrepreneur eventually confronts: the allure of solopreneurship versus the power of partnership and teamwork. Each path has distinct advantages, and choosing between them requires self-awareness, clarity of purpose, and honest reflection on personal goals and temperament.
As a creative entrepreneur, I've experienced both sides of this paradox intimately. Flying solo, I've moved quickly, pivoting without meetings, debates, or compromise. My calendar has been entirely mine, allowing rapid experimentation and swift decision-making. The solopreneurship route is undeniably appealing when you crave autonomy, speed, and the flexibility to constantly reinvent yourself.
In a bustling world where multitasking is often misconstrued as productivity, and our daily deluge of tasks perpetually threatens to drown and derail us, the need for a novel approach to managing our days is more pressing than ever. Inspired by the distinct and intuitive behaviors of animals, this blog post explores a unique method of structuring task lists. By compartmentalizing tasks into categories represented by animals, we can not only bring a sense of order to our chaotic days but also align our work habits with the natural world's wisdom.
I got married last week in Puerto Rico. I also just got off a seven-day honeymoon cruise sailing around the Lesser Antilles.
But a week before all this, I was informed that my cush two-day per week position at a creative agency was being phased out. It was actually more like a heartfelt request to come back full-time, or else move on, which was equal parts flattering and frustrating. One thing it wasn’t was confusing. As soon as the ultimatum was thrown down, I knew my decision: I was outta there.
In the ever-evolving landscape of creative agencies, a paradox presents itself as both a challenge and a beacon: how does one cultivate a culture of autonomy, a veritable garden of free-thinking ideas, while anchoring this freedom in the structured bedrock necessary for growth?
As an early 30s creative, I find myself struggling to balance my creative impulses with the practical demands of daily life. I am a musician, artist, writer, and designer, and I know that creativity requires space, time, and mental energy. But I also know that the creative process can be unpredictable and frustrating, leaving me feeling drained and disillusioned.
Let's face it, not all art is created equal. Sometimes you walk into a gallery and see a painting that looks like a toddler got into the finger paints, or a sculpture that resembles a pile of garbage. And yet, art snobs will tell you that you have to appreciate every style, no matter how hideous it may be. Well, fear not my fellow art haters, because there is a philosophy that can help you tolerate even the ugliest of art styles. It's called tolerance, and it's a magical little tool that can make you look like a cultured art lover without having to actually enjoy the art.
New perspectives. Who needs ‘em!? Since the dawn of time it has been repeatedly proven that discovery and innovation only leads to societal sadness. New ideas make people want to punch each other, different cultures and classes living side by side make jokes harder to convey, and political nuance is just plain confusing (and probably not that important anyways).
The phone alarm blasted into my brain like a jackhammer-tipped freight train. Out of context the chime could be described as sweet, even soothing, but the tone had been corrupted and now elicited only fury. I swung my legs out from under the cozy covers and fumbled my toes around to find my slippers. On they went. My first moment of triumph in the last four hours. It was eight o’ clock, I had been awake since four, and this was not normal.
Years ago in the 90s I worked at a hell hole of a call center. It was my first "office" job and I tried really hard to be professional. What I didn't know was that a call center is basically the same as a restaurant. Everyone was sleeping with each other, on drugs/alcohol, and the managers were idiots.
The hill sloped steeply down from the mountain. Sharp black crags faded to green as the meadow ate its way up the foothills. The story is the same as far as the eye can see – emerald valley marching into the blue-grey haze of atmosphere with its river spine snaking chasing the horizon.
This is Ireland, he says quietly to no one. This was a good idea.
Oh lord, I’m sooo tired! How looong can this go ooon?
My Dad’s baritone reverberated through the concrete corridor of the 4th Avenue underpass like Zeus cursing Greek mortals. And then the chorus:
Workin' in a coal mine
Goin' down, down, down
Workin' in a coal mine
Oops, about to slip down
There’s just something about working with your hands.
Especially when you’ve been too long working with your fingers.
When day in day out you’ve been tip tapping away on screens and keyboards, it is a soulfully welcome departure to do a bit of carpentry or construction (or destruction for that matter).
Hammers and saws and sanders and stain. I’ll be damned if I ever go desking again.
I met (name) yesterday.
Fluting around on the NW side.
He passed by and I said “Hey, that’s beautiful.”
He said “Thanks.”
It was only after he walked around the corner at the end of the block that I’d remembered a little snippet from Rick Rubin’s interview on the Broken Record Podcast: “Yea, I’ve just been really wanting to soothe people with my instrumental music, so these days I often go to the park and flute around.”
Goodness, that was (name) that just walked by…
I hacked the sucker.
I broke him wide open.
Put the screws to the mammajamma.
Or rather, removed the screws from the mammajamma, did some wigglin’ and a snippin’ and then screwed the screws back in the sucker.
Apologies for the abstraction. I am illustrating my morning battle with my Keurig coffee maker, and the resultant hack I was forced (nay, willingly embarked upon) to correct its character and insubordinate behavior.
But first, why was I battling with the caffeine machine?
There they were, gold-glittered and gay.
The bass thumped and the mass of dancers throbbed and pulsed along with the rhythm.
At the same time the whiz of a hundred coasting bicycle gears ripped through air behind me.
Today the mountain was alive with hedonism.
During my latest snowbird road trip to Portland, OR to escape the summer heat of Phoenix, AZ, I met a man.
This man lived in a van.
I had just driven my car through a redwood at Drive-Thru Tree Park (aptly named) and had parked to relieve myself and stretch my legs. As I moseyed into the meadow, I noticed a man and two dogs walking towards me back to the lot.
He noticed my noticing and nodded a salutation.
I nodded back, “Beautiful beasts you’ve got there.”
“Wanna meet ‘em?” He called back.
The 2nd espresso hits the bottom of your belly like Molotov, exploding fire into your spirit and whipping energy up your spine.
“I’m ready!”
But ready for what?
“Ready to give my gift to the world, of course!”
But which gift? And more importantly, which world?
To whom shall you bequeath your first fruits?
Choose carefully, for this is how you build your life…
Total autonomy.
Yea, that’s we want. No one to tell us what to do. Ever.
No one setting a bar or a deadline, no one telling us when to start and stop work, no one dangling a paycheck in front of our noses like a carrot on a stick beckoning the cart-pulling donkey ever forward yet forever out of reach.
“I wanna be my own boss!” we say. “I wanna set my own schedule! I wanna call my own shots! I wanna be free!”
Mmmm, a delicious series of sentiments. What a drag it truly is that this fabled “bosslessness” doesn’t exist…
Your money or your life?
You may think the answer is clear, but take an honest look at your life. Most of us, yours truly included, choose our money. As I write, on April 24th 2021, it really does seem like something is in the water…
Let us know if this sounds familiar: You dropped out of Art School, partnered with your best buddy and fellow creative renegade, and set out to build your very own lean and scrappy agency structure. You threw yourself into the market, dazzled prospects with fresh ideas and an edgy attitude, and quickly acquired a small book of clients. Both you and your renegade partner burn the midnight oil grinding out graphics, strategizing social campaigns and cutting video ‘till your eyes bleed.
Some of you know my story.
For those who don't, I'm a pathologically risk-averse, hyper-calculated, bootstrapper.
And I don't have much reason to depart from this approach; I've built two self-supporting businesses over the last 6 years without loans, outside (or inside) financial investments, and without missing a single paycheck each time I transitioned from day job to biz owner.
But, here's the thing…
Wouldn’t it be great to know if your business idea was going to work before you dripped a single drop of sweat into it?
Wouldn’t it be neat if there was a way to test business ideas in their early stages in such a way that you knew with absolute certainty that all the hard work in front of you was gonna be worth it?
That would be really helpful, right?
Here’s the thing:
There kind of is!
You’re at a cocktail party. Someone approaches you and says:
“Hey, I hear you’re a _____ and you do _____ for a living. I have this problem I need help with. It’s right up your alley. Here’s my question:___________________?”
What do you do?
Mmmm, that’s a delicious dream.
So big! So YOU!
Can’t you just taste the juicy future?
Once achieved, this dream will forever mark that milestone in your life when you went from “meh” to MIGHTY!
Oh no, but it’s so far away...and there’s so many steps...and boy...the effort it’ll demand…
You know what, never mind. It’ll never happen…
"I'll sleep when I'm dead!"
For those of you who just read that and thought "Hell yea, get that money! HUSTLE FO' LIFE! GRIND OR DIE!"
Fuck off my blog. Leave now.
I'm sorry (deep breath). I do in fact hope you stay and read because it is you (you 12-hour-day, self-employed, workaholic you) who is precisely the individual that stands to benefit most from this post...