Dependent*Arising

To Be of Use

2011-11-13T09:48:00.002-05:00

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

- Marge Piercy

Kindness

2011-09-25T09:30:00.001-04:00

Briefly
We walk this earth.
We have
But a short time.
We resemble grasses;
Green in the spring,
Brown in the summer heat,
Withering in the winter wind.
Those who understand this
Put aside their useless quarrels.
The cosmos is unfathomably vast.
The human mind is very small.
An act of kindness is never wasted;
It is the gateway to the deathless and unborn,
It is the exultation of the heart.

-- Jim Wilson
Shaping Words

Location:Addison Dr,Charlotte,United States

Wilderness

2011-08-28T10:06:00.001-04:00

THERE is a wolf in me … fangs pointed for tearing gashes … a red tongue for raw meat … and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me … a silver-gray fox … I sniff and guess … I pick things out of the wind and air … I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers … I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me … a snout and a belly … a machinery for eating and grunting … a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me … I know I came from saltblue water-gates … I scurried with shoals of herring … I blew waterspouts with porpoises … before land was … before the water went down … before Noah … before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me … clambering-clawed … dog-faced … yawping a galoot’s hunger … hairy under the armpits … here are the hawk-eyed hankering men … here are the blond and blue-eyed women … here they hide curled asleep waiting … ready to snarl and kill … ready to sing and give milk … waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird … and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want … and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wildernes

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

-- Carl Sandburg

Location:UUCC

Every Day You Play

2011-05-22T21:43:00.002-04:00

This piece by Neruda is easily one of the most sensual and evocative bits of poetry I've ever had the pleasure to read. The last two lines rank as one of my favorite poetic quotes.

---

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

~ Pablo Neruda

Moon, Flowers, Man

2011-05-08T09:38:00.000-04:00

I raise my cup and invite
The moon to come down from the
Sky. I hope she will accept
Me. I raise my cup and ask
The branches, heavy with flowers,
To drink with me. I wish them
Long life and promise never
To pick them. In company
With the moon and the flowers,
I get drunk, and none of us
Ever worries about good
Or bad. How many people
Can comprehend our joy? I
Have wine and moon and flowers.
Who else do I want for drinking companions?

~ Su Tung P'o

Remember

2011-05-05T21:41:00.000-04:00

Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her
in a bar once in Iowa City.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.

Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life also.

Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war
dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.

Remember that you are all people and that all people are you.
Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you.
Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember that language comes from this.
Remember the dance that language is, that life is.
Remember.

~ Joy Harjo

What to Eat, What to Drink, and What to Leave for Poison

2011-03-27T09:45:00.003-04:00

I.
Only now, in spring, can the place be named:
tulip poplar, daffodil, crab apple,
dogwood, budding pink-green, white-green, yellow
on my knowing.   All winter I was lost.
Fall, I found myself here, with no texture
my fingers know.   Then, worse, the white longing
that downed us deep three months.   No flower heat.
That was winter.   But now, in spring, the buds
flock our trees.   Ten million exquisite buds,
tiny and loud, flaring their petalled wings,
bellowing from ashen branches vibrant
keys, the chords of spring’s triumph: fisted heart,
dogwood; grail, poplar; wine spray, crab apple.
The song is drink, is color.   Come.   Now.   Taste.

II.
The song is drink, is color.   Come now, taste
what the world has to offer.   When you eat
you will know that music comes in guises—
bold of crepe myrtle, sweet of daffodil—
beyond sound, guises they never told you
could be true.   And they aren’t.   Except they are
so real now, this spring, you know them, taste them.
Green as kale, the songs of spring, bright as wine,
the music.   Faces of this season grin
with clobbering wantonness—see the smiles
open on each branch?—until you, too, smile.
Wide carnival of color, carnival
of scent.   We’re all lurching down streets, drunk now
from the poplar’s grail.   Wine spray: crab apple.

III.
From the poplar’s grail, wine spray.   Crab apple
brightens jealously to compete.   But by
the crab apple’s deep stain, the tulip tree
learns modesty.   Only blush, poplar learns,
lightly.   Never burn such a dark-hued fire
to the core.   Tulip poplar wants herself
light under leaf, never, like crab apple,
heavy under tart fruit.   Never laden.
So the poplar pours just a hint of wine
in her cup, while the crab apple, wild one,
acts as if her body were a fountain.
She would pour wine onto you, just let her.
Shameless, she plants herself, and delivers,
down anyone’s street, bright invitations.

IV.
Down anyone’s street-bright invitations.
Suck ‘em.   Swallow ‘em.   Eat them whole.   That’s right,
be greedy about it.   The brightness calls
and you follow because you want to taste,
because you want to be welcomed inside
the code of that color: red for thirst; green
for hunger; pink, a kiss; and white, stain me
now.   Soil me with touching.   Is that right?
No?   That’s not, you say, what you meant.   Not what
you meant at all?   Pardon.   Excuse me, please.
Your hand was reaching, tugging at this shirt
of flowers and I thought, I guess I thought
you were hungry for something beautiful.
Come now.   The brightness here might fill you up.

V.
Come.   Now the brightness here might fill you up,
but tomorrow?   Who can know what the next
day will bring.   It is like that, here, in spring.
Four days ago, the dogwood was a fist
in protest.   Now look.   Even she unfurls
to the pleasure of the season.   Don’t be
ashamed of yourself.   Don’t be.    This happens
to us all.   We have thrown back the blanket.
We’re naked and we’ve grown to love ourselves.
I tell you, do not be ashamed.   Who is
more wanton than the dancing crepe myrtle?
Is she ashamed?   Why, even the dogwood,
that righteous tree of God’s, is full of lust
exploding into brightness every spring.

VI.
Exploding into brightness every spring,
I draw you close.   I wonder, do you know
how long I’ve wanted to be here?   Each year
you grasp me, lift me, carry me inside.
Glee is the body of the daffodil
reaching tubed fingers through the day, feeling
her own trumpeted passion choiring air
with hot, colored song.   This is a texture
I love.   This is life.   And, too, you love me,
inhale my whole being every spring.   Gone
winter, heavy clod whose icy body
fell into my bed.   I must leave you, but
I’ll wait through heat, fall, freeze to hear you cry:
Daffodils are up.   My God, what beauty!

VII.
Daffodils are up, my God!   What beauty
concerted down on us last night.   And if
I sleep again, I’ll wake to a louder
blossoming, the symphony smashing down
hothouse walls, and into the world: music.
Something like the birds’ return, each morning’s
crescendo rising toward its brightest pitch,
colors unfurling, petals alluring.
The song, the color, the rising ecstasy
of spring.   My God.   This beauty.   This, this
is what I’ve hoped for.   All my life is here
in the unnamed core—dogwood, daffodil,
tulip poplar, crab apple, crepe myrtle—
only now, in spring, can the place be named.

-Camille Dungy

From "The Months"

2011-03-27T09:33:00.000-04:00

March
When the Earl King came
to steal away the child
in Goethe's poem, the father said
don't be afraid,
it's just the wind...
As if it weren't the wind
that blows away the tender
fragments of this world—
leftover leaves in the corners
of the garden, a Lenten Rose
that thought it safe
to bloom so early.

- Linda Pastan

Ode to Gaiety

2011-02-27T09:31:00.000-05:00

Go gloom
Begone glum and grim
Off with the drab drear and grumble
It's time
its pastime
to come undone and come out laughing
time to wrap killjoys in wet blankets
and feed them to the sourpusses

Come frisky pals
Come forth wily wags
Loosen your screws and get off your rocker
Untie the strait lacer
Tie up the smarty pants
Tickle the crosspatch with josh and guffaw
Share quips and pranks with every victim
of grouch pomposity or blah

Woe to the bozo who says No to
tee hee ho ho and ha ha
Boo to the cleancut klutz who
wipes the smile off his face
Without gaiety
freedom is a chastity belt
Without gaiety
life is a wooden kimono

Come cheerful chums
Cut up and carry on
Crack your pots and split your sides
Boggle the bellyacher
Convulse the worrywart
Pratfall the prissy poos and the fuddy duds
Take drollery to heart or end up a deadhead
at the guillotine of the mindless

Be wise and go merry round
whatever you cherish
what you love to enjoy what you live to exert
And when the high spirits
call your number up
count on merriment all the way to the countdown
Long live hilarity euphoria and flumadiddle
Long live gaiety
for all the laity

~ James Broughton

A poem for my best boy

2011-02-07T15:00:00.000-05:00

to live in this world

you must be able
to do three things
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go

- Mary Oliver

Our Jeopardy

2011-02-07T14:47:00.002-05:00

It is good to use best china
treasured dishes
the most gentle goblets
the oldest lace tablecloth
there is a risk of course
every time we use anything
or anyone shares an inmost
mood or comment
or a fragile cup of revelation
but not to touch
not to handle
not to employ the available
artifacts of being
a human being
that is a quiet crash
the deadly catastrophe

where nothing is enjoyed or broken
or spoken or spilled
or stained or mended
where nothing is ever
lived
loved
pored over
laughed over
wept over
lost
or found.

-Thomas John Carlisle

Call Me by My True Names

2011-01-09T09:33:00.002-05:00

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.

- Thich Nhat Hanh

2010-12-19T09:28:00.002-05:00

There is joy
in all:

in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,

in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,
dies young.

~ Anne Sexton
The Awful Rowing Toward God

Gardening as Therapy

2010-07-07T12:11:00.000-04:00

"“The most noteworthy thing about gardeners is that they are always optimistic, always enterprising, and never satisfied. They always look forward to doing something better than they have ever done before.”

Vita Sackville-West

First, and what follows...

2010-05-30T09:29:00.002-04:00

"THEY CAME FIRST for the Communists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist.

THEN THEY CAME for the Jews,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew.

THEN THEY CAME for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist.

THEN THEY CAME for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up."

-- Martin Niemöller

-----------

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

-- William Butler Yeats

----------

"We don't need to be born again. We need to grow up."

-- Bishop Spong

Camas Lillies

2010-05-06T20:34:00.000-04:00

Consider the lilies of the field,
the blue banks of camas
opening into acres of sky along the road.
Would the longing to lie down
and be washed by that beauty
abate if you knew their usefulness,
how the natives ground their bulbs
for flour, how the settlers’ hogs
uprooted them, grunting in gleeful
oblivion as the flowers fell?

And you — what of your rushed
and useful life? Imagine setting it all down —
papers, plans, appointments, everything —
leaving only a note: "Gone
to the fields to be lovely. Be back
when I’m through with blooming."

Even now, unneeded and uneaten,
the camas lilies gaze out above the grass
from their tender blue eyes.
Even in sleep your life will shine.
Make no mistake. Of course
your work will always matter.

Yet Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these.

~ Lynn Ungar

Passover

2010-04-04T09:48:00.001-04:00

They thought they were safe
that spring night when they daubed
the doorways with sacrificial blood.
To be sure, the angel of death
passed them over, but for what?

Forty years in the desert
without a home without a bed
following new laws to an unknown land.
Easier to have died in Egypt
or stayed there a slave, pretending
there was safety in the old familiar.

But the promise, from those first
naked days outside the garden,
is that there is no safety,
only the terrible blessing
of the journey. You were born
through a doorway marked in blood.
We are, all of us, passed over,
brushed in the night by terrible wings.

Ask that fierce presence,
whose imagination you hold.
God did not promise that we shall live,
but that we might, at last, glimpse the stars,
brilliant in the night sky.

-- Lynn Unger

Won't You Celebrate With Me

2010-03-04T21:03:00.003-05:00

won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.

-- Lucille Clifton

As white and non-woman as I may, this resonates with me still. Here on this bridge between starshine and clay, between all there is, and all we know, won't you celebrate with me this one truth: We live.

2010-01-30T20:30:00.000-05:00

Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

-- Robert F. Kennedy

Opening Words

2010-01-30T20:21:00.002-05:00

I believe the earth
exists, and
in each minim mote
of its dust the holy
glow of thy candle.
Thou
unknown I know,
thou spirit,
giver,
lover of making, of the
wrought letter,
wrought flower,
iron, deed, dream.
Dust of the earth,
help thou my
unbelief. Drift
gray become gold, in the beam of
vision. I believe with
doubt. I doubt and
interrupt my doubt with belief. Be,
beloved, threatened world.
Each minim
mote.
Not the poisonous
luminescence forced
out of its privacy,
The sacred lock of its cell
broken. No,
the ordinary glow
of common dust in ancient sunlight.<
Be, that I may believe. Amen.

-- Denise Levertov

Buttons

2009-11-11T09:45:00.002-05:00

I HAVE been watching the war map slammed up for

advertising in front of the newspaper office.

Buttons--red and yellow buttons--blue and black buttons--

are shoved back and forth across the map.

A laughing young man, sunny with freckles,

Climbs a ladder, yells a joke to somebody in the crowd,

And then fixes a yellow button one inch west

And follows the yellow button with a black button one

inch west.

(Ten thousand men and boys twist on their bodies in

a red soak along a river edge,

Gasping of wounds, calling for water, some rattling

death in their throats.)

Who would guess what it cost to move two buttons one

inch on the war map here in front of the newspaper

office where the freckle-faced young man is laughing

to us?

Carl Sandburg

Fun With Thermite

2009-08-11T01:40:00.008-04:00

At work, a major project for the last year or so has been extracting dead drives from machines leaving campus, with the intent of finding a way to render them unreadable. Degaussing was impractical, so we settled on running a drill bit through the platters in a couple of locations.

Effective, but it left us with about 200 nonfunctional drives leaking shards of aluminum. To make a long story short, I've seen one too many episodes of Mythbusters, so I asked the Director of IT if some of us couldn't have the drives for what, because we're an academic institution, I'll call an "experiment." The purpose of the experiment? To make a big boom and set stuff on fire. We're guys...this should go without saying.

I ordered several tens of pounds of unmixed thermite from a guy on the Web (just google "thermite mix" and it'll be pretty clear). Raymond drilled the drives, and Barth provided the camera. Long story short, we set up a stack of 100 drives and burned them out using molten iron.

The results were pretty cool, though I have to say that unless you got a real bulk rate on thermite, it would be a pretty cost-ineffective (though completely destructive) way to ensure your data didn't get out of your hands. Also, if we do this again, we'll remove all plastics and PCBs from the drives. We pulled off the drive rails, but the PCBs and connectors burned out, leaving a pretty noxious soot. Live and learn.

Anyway, you can see a gallery of images or watch a shortened video of the goings on.

Words for the wise: As really dangerous chemical reactions go, thermite isn't a big deal. It's just very hot, and very energetic. As the video shows, it drips molten iron and throws burning iron powder for quite a distance. It's also kind of a pain to light. I'm not going to say don't play with it, but use common sense if you do, and don't do anything really stupid.

Once a thermite reaction starts, you cannot stop it. It will laugh at your pitiful fire extinguisher. Water will create an explosion, and burning metal shrugs off dry chemical. I repeat: Don't be stupid, stupid. I can do this because I'm an adult with insurance and a healthy sense of self-preservation. If you do this and burn down something important, give yourself third-degree burns, or set the back lot on fire, it's your own fault.

New specs for a new year

2009-07-24T12:37:00.002-04:00

Clearly, Emma likes her new glasses! Best of all, they were super-cheap thanks to a gift certificate picked up at a silent auction for Speedway Children's Charities. Good thing, too...at their prices, Horizon Eye Care won't be getting repeat business.

Revising the gallery

2009-07-21T12:42:00.004-04:00

Bad news: The gallery is going to be goofed up for a bit.

Good news: Newer pictures coming along shortly.

That is all.

UPDATE: Nine new and revised albums are available in the gallery.

Failing probability

2009-07-16T19:56:00.004-04:00

I find this annoying.

Everyone on the "switch" side continues to assert that Monty's pick of the two doors you didn't choose somehow magically alters the probability of the remaining door you didn't choose being correct. But I can't see as that's possible.

Door 1: Goat
Door 2: Car
Door 3: Goat

I choose door 1. I'm getting a goat if I don't switch. Monty opens door three, revealing the second goat. Switchers say I now know something about door 2, but that's not the case. Door 2 could just as easily contain a goat, with me sitting on the car. Monty's revelation doesn't change anything, except that I now have a fifty-fifty chance of being right. The same chance I have had all along, because I know that no matter what door I pick, Monty is going to open one of the two goat doors. Saying that you magically get a transference of probability to one door or the other on the basis of his pick makes no sense to me.

Argh. Stuff like this probably explains why it took me two semesters to pass freshman calculus.

Regular-ish updates to resume shortly

2009-07-15T10:57:00.002-04:00

I'm finally kicking myself into gear and revising some things that need it. I'll go back to updating when I'm finished with that.

Visiting San Francisco again

2009-06-06T10:50:00.003-04:00

I'm in SF again leading up to this year's WWDC with a few days of vacation that I fancy I rather deserve. I'm more than a little disappointed not to have the family with me this year, but have soldiered on in the face of that fact (that's only marginally facetious...I really am bothered about it). Anyway, as promised to certain parties, images, video and linkage for the last couple of days.

First, the flight out. A big raspberry to USAir for not even bothering with a movie on a cross-country flight. :P In any case, here are the mountains and clouds Mom requested. After dealing with Enterprise (more expensive, but always more professional and quicker), I headed into town and went straight to Cha Cha Cha for sangria and dinner, followed by a lovely flán for dessert. Topped that off with a stroll down to Booksmith, where I had Cosmic Debris autograph a copy of Emily the Strange for Emma.

Friday morning, I bugged out for Davis at 6am to do this. After lunch in Woodland, I drove down to Cupertino for the traditional pilgrimage and a little geocaching. Afterward, I dropped in at the Burlingame PEZ Museum, sent Emma a postcard, then headed back to San Francisco in awful traffic. That evening, I visited Kamei Restaurant Supply (I'll be going back today for a more extensive appraisal), stopped in at Green Apple Books and found the first two books of The Dresden Files, then did some more caching at Fort Mason. You should see the community garden there! Amazing. It was dark, but I'll try to get back today for pics.

After that, back to the hotel, where getting parked took about 20 minutes (late arrivals for the weekend blocking the entire curb. Then posted up the pics and sacked out.

Today will be the Farmer's Market, a little shopping, some caching and a kayak trip!

When You see Millions of the Mouthless Dead

2009-05-25T10:28:00.002-04:00

When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
Say not soft things as other men have said,
That you'll remember. For you need not so.
Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know
It is not curses heaped on each gashed head?
Nor tears. Their blind eyes see not your tears flow.
Nor honour. It is easy to be dead.
Say only this, 'They are dead.' Then add thereto,
'Yet many a better one has died before.'
Then, scanning all the o'ercrowded mass, should you
Perceive one face that you loved heretofore,
It is a spook. None wears the face you knew.
Great death has made all his for evermore.

Charles Sorley

With deepest respect for all who have served, and all who now stand to post.

The Maker's Bill of Rights

2009-03-02T23:11:00.002-05:00

From make's Mr. Jalopy:

Meaningful and specific parts lists shall be included.
Cases shall be easy to open.
Batteries should be replaceable.
Special tools are allowed only for darn good reasons.
Profiting by selling expensive special tools is wrong and not making special tools available is even worse.
Torx is OK; tamperproof is rarely OK.
Components, not entire sub-assemblies, shall be replaceable.
Consumables, like fuses and filters, shall be easy to access.
Circuit boards shall be commented.
Power from USB is good; power from proprietary power adapters is bad.
Standard connecters shall have pinouts defined.
If it snaps shut, it shall snap open.
Screws better than glues.
Docs and drivers shall have permalinks and shall reside for all perpetuity at archive.org.
Ease of repair shall be a design ideal, not an afterthought.
Metric or standard, not both.
Schematics shall be included.

Remember: If you can't open it, you don't own it.

The Repair Manifesto

2009-03-02T23:00:00.002-05:00

From Platform 21:

1. Make your products live longer!
Repairing means taking the opportunity to give your product a second life. Don't ditch it, stitch it. Don't end it, mend it! Repairing is not anti-consumption. It is anti- needlessly throwing things away.

2. Things should be designed so that they can be repaired.
Product designers: Make your products repairable. Share clear, understandable information about DIY repairs.
Consumer: Buy things you know can be repaired, or else find out why they don't exist. Be critical and inquisitive.

3. Repair is not replacement.
Replacement is throwing away the broken bit. This is NOT the kind of repair that we're talking about.

4. What doesn't kill it makes it stronger.
Every time we repair something, we add to its potential, its history, its soul and its inherent beauty.

5. Repairing is a creative challenge.
Making repairs is good for the imagination. Using new techniques, tools and materials ushers in possibility, rather than dead ends.

6. Repair survives fashion.
Repair is not about styling or trends. There are no due-dates for repairable items.

7. To repair is to discover.
As you fix objets, you'll learn amazing things about how they actually work. Or don't work.

8. Repair - even in good times!
If you this this manifesto has to do with the recession, forget it. This isn't about money, it's about a mentality.

9. Repaired things are unique.
Even fakes become originals when you repair them.

10. Repairing is about independence.
Don't be a slave to technology - be its master. If it's broken, fix it and make it better. And if you're a master, empower others.

11. You can repair anything, even a plastic bag.
But we'd recommend getting a bag that will last longer, and then repairing it if necessary.

Stop Recycling. Start Repairing.

Valdemar: The Collegium Chronicles, Vol. I - Foundation

2009-02-07T23:21:00.001-05:00

Good book by Mercedes Lackey. Surely not heavyweight fantasy, but entertaining. Fair warning if you pick it up: It's one long damned setup for Vol II. I hate that.

Reading Update

2009-01-12T22:03:00.002-05:00

Just finished Dave Crenshaw's The Myth of Multitasking. Currently involved with Anathem (second attempt), The Hidden Persuaders, Cinderella Sims, AppleScript 1-2-3 and Greg Palast's Armed Madhouse (also second attempt).

I got distracted from Palast the first time, and Anathem is just kind of dense. Not impenetrable, the way I found Quicksilver to be. But structured in a way that demands a fairly intense level of concentration.

Sometimes, it's better not to comment

2008-12-17T09:30:00.003-05:00

This morning after I got off the elliptical, I was in the locker room changing while a kid with DS was in cleaning the lockers. Didn't recognize him, but his name must have been Zachary, since the woman supervising him (possibly his mother) stood in the door of the men’s calling him repeatedly. When he finally answered her, she stood in the door and lectured him.

“Zachary, now you’re in trouble, because I called you five times and you chose not to answer.” I couldn’t very well argue with her logic. “If the building was on fire and I tried to get you to come out of there and you didn’t answer, we’d have a real problem, wouldn’t we?”

I had to bite my tongue.

Far be it from me to point out to her that if the building were on fire, the possibility of seeing a half-naked man in the midst of his post-workout ablutions really shouldn’t get in the way of her coming right in and dragging the kid out by his ear, if necessary.

Thought for today

2008-11-26T17:35:00.001-05:00

“The unthankful heart discovers no mercies; but the thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

The Peace of Wild Things

2008-11-23T11:51:00.003-05:00

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

It's been a long, frustrating semester in a lot of respects, and I'm only just now starting to feel it wind down. This week ended with a couple of packed but relatively productive days -- a welcome change in all respects from the preceding weeks and months. Monday has a list of chores waiting for me, but that's still 18 hours away, so I'll let it rest out of sight, and thus out of mind.

The first round of leaves is on the ground, reminding me that there's work yet to be done in the yard to make ready for the rapidly-encroaching cold. There are shrubs yet hungry for fertilizer, grass that will need a final shave and trim before I put the mower away, and speaking of the mower, a fuel line requiring repair.

Excavation-by-hand of the back yard slope for a retaining wall continues, if slowly, and new emphasis lies on the completion of the long-dormant chicken house, which needs doors, trim and a finished pen. Decisions are being taken for the breeds to be purchased this spring, with current thinking running largely to standard cochins and perhaps a few fancy bantams. Plans are also being laid for the acquisition of toulouse or brown Chinese geese to serve as companions and watchdogs, since the dog is about effective as a stone post when it comes to sounding the alarm.

The windows have a new coat of paint, the doors are painted and have new storm doors installed, the house has been pressure-washed for the first time in about 2 years, the new flower beds in the back are complete, screens are rehung, and the front door has been jacked and replumbed so it actually opens again.

Inside, the picture window is repaired following a recent visit by the manufacturer's technician -- who knew windows needed technicians? Mom's childhood hutch, which later served as a bookcase for me, has been repurposed (again) to serve as a china cabinet in the dining room, and will shortly hold a selection of the original Japanese Noritake for display. The old stationary trainer has been sold, the desk is on offer, and the library index and organization is largely complete. Christmas vacation plans include ripping out the carpet in the library and adding new furniture, hardwood flooring and paint. Or maybe just the flooring and paint. Who knows?

In the spring, we put a down payment on a turkey, and this weekend were rewarded with an organically-raised 12lb Red Bourbon, plucked and dressed. It's currently thawing in the refrigerator, awaiting a Tuesday brining and Wednesday roast. With so much family, it's funny how we hardly get leftovers any more, so we make our own excess of turkey.

Church this morning was a service of little-t thanksgiving. When Pastor Jay quizzed the congregation about what makes life worth living for them, I offered books by Terry Pratchett, and Emma offer "pasketti." I was reminded, again, how far above most of the world's standard my life is, and I remain grateful for that.

Today is a gorgeous day, cold but brilliantly clear. One of the razor sharp days of autumn-passing-to-winter that I adore. I'm thankful for that, as well.

Thanksgiving is sweeter than bounty itself.
One who cherishes gratitude does not cling to the gift!
Thanksgiving is the true meat of God’s bounty;
The bounty is its shell,
For thanksgiving carries you to the hearth of the Beloved.
Abundance alone brings heedlessness,
Thanksgiving gives birth to alertness.
The bounty of thanksgiving will satisfy and elevate you,
And you will bestow a hundred bounties in return.
Eat your fill of God’s delicacies,
And you will be freed from hunger and begging.

Rumi

America the Beautiful

2008-11-09T22:14:00.001-05:00

PHC featured a snippet of my favorite American anthem yesterday, and it was so powerful left a catch in my throat that nearly made me pull the car over to recover.

O beautiful, for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America! God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.

O beautiful, for pilgrim feet

Whose stern, impassioned stress

A thoroughfare for freedom beat

Across the wilderness!

America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw;

Confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law!

O beautiful, for heroes proved

In liberating strife,

Who more than self their country loved

And mercy more than life!

America! America! May God thy gold refine,

'Til all success be nobleness, and ev'ry gain divine!

O beautiful, for patriot dream

That sees beyond the years,

Thine alabaster cities gleam

Undimmed by human tears!

America! America! God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!

Hey Lindsey: Time to go swimming, douchebag.

2008-11-06T14:14:00.002-05:00

“I’ll beat [Olympic gold medalist] Michael Phelps in swimming before Barack Obama wins North Carolina.”

Well, brother, I surely hope you've been taking lessons, because the AP says the number of uncounted provisional/absentee ballots is fewer than the distance by which Obama leads McCain. Shorter AP: Obama wins North Carolina. Welcome to Blue, tarheels!

Today's link list

2008-11-06T12:33:00.008-05:00

Updated throughout the day:

Here on the pulse of this new day...

2008-11-05T22:14:00.003-05:00

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope

Good morning.

- Maya Angelou

It's taken me fully a day to get myself back together. Starting early Saturday morning, I worked for four solid days canvassing Cabarrus county for the Obama campaign. In the course of that work, I shook hands with the most dignified elderly black men, the youngest just-starting-out Latino mothers, trailer-park rednecks and solidly middle-class suburbanites. I was welcomed by most, sworn at by a few, and threatened only once, so a good four days overall.

I was prepared for the physical exhaustion, the gas expenditures, the shin splints, and the sort of deep-set weariness that comes from, quite literally, jogging around all day. I was prepared to make new friends, to be rejected, and sometimes to be looked at strangely (more than once I was, quite literally, the only white person in sight, and it's funny that for the first time in my life, that didn't bother me a whit).

What I was absolutely unprepared for was how deeply invested I suddenly felt. I had been to rallies, to organizing meetings and such. I'd talked politics with friends, come around gradually to my support of Obama. We donated as our modest means allowed, not much but enough to count. What I hadn't done, in this campaign or ever before, was put my feet one in front of the other and walk the talk. I hadn't knocked on doors, hadn't pleaded with disinterested young black men to please take half an hour to go vote, because North Carolina really would be that close. I hadn't issued a fusillade of thanks to the working mother of four for taking time not only to vote herself, but to take her elderly parents, and browbeat her 18-year-old son into going as well, because North Carolina really would be that close. I hadn't experienced the deep satisfaction of knocking on the trailer door and speaking for ten minutes with the man fresh off a 12-hour shift at work, listening to him tell me in a deep Southern drawl that Barack Obama would really work to help guys like him, and feeling the kinship that comes from believing that you both get it.

I was, frankly, not prepared for my own wracking emotional response as the states were called one by one, nor for the sobs -- oddly mixed with huge laughter -- that came shortly after the race was called for Barack.

It's been a long way from Dennis to Barack, personally and politically. Certainly it's been a long haul for the country, and it's far from over. But for the first time in seven years, I feel truly, deeply proud of America's politics, and the extraordinary grace we have been granted in these last few days. Certainly, I feel as proud as I ever have before. My daughter, who is Asian, will know that even the highest achievement in the land is not limited to old, white men. That fact holds special significance for me today.

Certainly there's work to be done. Those of us who backed Barack have a special requirement to hold him to his promises. We who worked to see the legacy of Jesse Helms torn down, to see Elizabeth Dole sent back like Dorothy to Kansas, and to see Robin Hays sent back to his counting house, must be as hard on them as we have been on their predecessors, for reasons both identical and, paradoxically, completely different.

That's for later, though. For now, it's time to enjoy the thought of President Barack Hussein Obama, to plan road trips to DC for the inauguration, and perhaps to mend a few fences. It's going to be a good four years -- hard, but good. We've worked hard enough to win the rights to occupy the house. Time now for the hard work of reconstruction and renovation.

Let's get started.

Canvassing adventures

2008-11-02T18:13:00.003-05:00

I've been out canvassing for the Obama campaign for the last two days. A couple of hundred doors in all, maybe a little more. Some random observations:

Most of my doors have been in three neighborhoods: Logan, a predominantly minority neighborhood in south Concord, off Poplar Tent near Frye's bowling lanes, and the Lenmore neighborhood off Corban street on the other side of 73 from Concord. Also, one apartment block and a couple of houses off Winecoff School Road. Logan is lower income, Poplar Tent is lower and lower-middle class, Lenmore is lower-middle class with some flat middle-class homes and a smattering of upper-class, and the apartments I've hit are basically all middle-class.
The minority communities have been very welcoming, on the whole. I've had a number of very friendly conversations, and really felt like I've been helping people. Bear in mind that although I'm canvassing for Obama, my primary concern personally is that people get out and vote. I think that comes through. I never judge anyone who says they've voted for McCain. My take away from my interactions with nonwhites has been overwhelmingly positive.
The only hostile reactions I've received have been from lower-middle-class whites. Cussed twice, and threatened by one who wanted to set his shepherd on me. Cracker-ass cracker. People like him are one of the reasons I sincerely hope Obama wins. Just to rub his nose in it. In both of the hostile instances, the response came not from the person named on my canvass list, but from someone who I took to be a parent. Dear parents: With attitudes like that, I hope your kids rebel and do something you consider stupid. Like voting for Barack.
A few words of advice, should you be accosted by a canvasser. Be nice. These folks are volunteers, and most of us are perfectly nice, normal people. Civility is the order of the day on both sides. Don't be an asshole.

Back to it tomorrow, both for Obama and Kissell.

On choosing sides

2008-10-30T11:23:00.002-04:00

My heart is moved by all I cannot save;
so much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those
who, age after age,
perversely, with no extraordinary
power, reconstitute the world.

- Adrienne Rich

So at long last, this is what we've come to.

2008-10-07T10:02:00.004-04:00

I'd really hoped -- against hope, surely -- that this wouldn't happen, but happen it has.

First, let me point out that Obama isn't black. He's half-black. He could as easily describe himself as half-white. Just an interesting consideration.

Now go read this.

This is what you can expect to happen when you stir the American cesspool. The first shiny turds to float to the top are always the racists. Hollering "nigger" and telling a black man to "Sit down, boy!"? Shouting "Kill him!"? What's next...are they going to lynch Obama in effigy?

This is where Palin, and by convention McCain, has taken us. Into the slimy sewer of American politics, where the dregs of the 20th century still linger, stewing in their own bile over the fact that blacks are now treated as equals, over the fact that they can no longer publicly call them "nigger" and "boy." It's disgusting enough that these troglodytes still exist, more so that I have to share my air with them, and finally that people like Sarah Palin would stoop to rousing them from under their rocks as a political tactic.

Shame on Sarah Palin. And shame on John McCain for letting her go this route -- in fact, for picking her at all (which was, of course, another plainly political tactic, but that's another discussion). I'd like to think Americans in the main are bright enough to repudiate this kind of race-baiting, but I've heard too many interviews with people who profess to like Obama, then when asked why they aren't voting for him, can't or won't provide a reason. Which makes their reasoning pretty plain, as often as not. Shame on them too -- they'll be the downfall of America, in the end.

Well, I haven't been around forever, have I?

2008-10-07T09:16:00.005-04:00

Color me busy. Flower beds, soccer practice, home improvements, redoing home improvements becausing the damned foundation settled again. Plus politics...this time of year I kind of get sucked in.

And I'm only back momentarily to say this: With respect to the bailout, I don't think I've ever been so conflicted about an act of Congress. On the one hand, I think it sucks to preserve institutions run by freakish greedheads who got rich at our expense, gamed the system, and lost. On the other hand, the damage is done. Those bastards have their money, and if something -- anything -- isn't done, it'll be you, me, and those beneath us who suffer. Nothing we can do -- short of prosecution, and the sad fact is they didn't do anything illegal, for the most part -- will bring that money back out of their wallets. All we can do now is pray that we avoid a depression.

Then we go back, figure out what happened, and fix it. And as little as the parties involved are going to like this, it must needs involve assigning blame. Because I want to know who to trust, and who not to trust, going forward.

And no, "don't trust anyone" is not an option -- it's a recipe for anarchy.

2008-07-03T15:32:00.001-04:00

Testing ping.fm

Today's post starts off questionable

2008-07-03T09:03:00.001-04:00

I’m honestly not sure today's list ever rises above that.

Saddam A Go-Go - GWAR
SexyBack (Armand's Mix) - Justin Timberlake
Mr. Brightside - The Killers
Rollin’ - Limp Bizkit
Move Bitch - Ludacris
Music - Madonna
Ray Of Light - Madonna
Which MC Was That? - MC Frontalot
Livin’ At The Corner Of Dude & Catastrophe - MC Frontalot ft. Brad Sucks
2x4 - Metallica
King Nothing - Metallica
We Are All Made Of Stars - Moby
This Is How We Do It - Montell Jordan
Rock Star (Jason Nevins Remix) - N.E.R.D.
Ride Wit’ Me - Nelly
I Like The Way You Move - Outkast
Solsbury Hill - Peter Gabriel
Start Me Up - The Rolling Stones
Run Runaway - Slade

Onward!

2008-07-02T08:53:00.000-04:00

Heavy on the electronica and dance today.

Born Too Slow - The Crystal Method
Name Of The Game - The Crystal Method
Insane In The Brain - Cypress Hill
Fighting Man - DJ Pone & Drixxxe
What Would Brian Boitano Do? - Southpark
Heather Graham - Da Vinci’s Notebook
Groove Is In The Heart - Deee-Lite
Jumpin’ Jumpin’ - Destiny’s Child
Whip It - Devo
Salio El Sol - Don Omar
Salio El Sol (EduK Baile Funk Remix) - Don Omar & Machete
Seinfeld - Electronic Symphony Orchestra
Rubberneckin’ (Paul Oakenfold Mix) - Elvis Presley
The Real Slim Shady - Eminem
Lose Yourself - Eminem
Weapon Of Choice - Fatboy Slim
London Bridge - Fergie
Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
We Got The Beat - The Go-Go’s
Minority - Green Day

So much for another day. I’m working on some longer form, more interesting stuff. As far as you know.

In which you learn yet more about my musical tastes

2008-07-01T08:45:00.000-04:00

Next 20, without comment:

Brown Derby Jump - Cherry Poppin’ Daddies
Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing - Chris Isaak
Lady Marmalade - Christina Aguilera, Pink, Li’l Kim, Mya
Sci-Fi Wasabi - Cibo Matto
Know Your Chicken - Cibo Matto
Rock The Casbah - The Clash
Devil In Jersey City - Coheed & Cambria
Where The River Flows - Collective Soul
Heavy - Collective Soul
Try - The Connells
Home Today - The Connells
Fantastic Voyage - Coolio
Hanginaround - Counting Crows
Low - Cracker
Get Off This - Cracker & Leftover Salmon
Afternoons and Coffeespoons - Crash Test Dummies
Crossroads - Cream
Proud Mary - Creedence Clearwater Revival
Travelin’ Band - Creedence Clearwater Revival
Southern Cross - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Not bad.

Into the homestretch

2008-06-30T09:10:00.000-04:00

I haven't update my rotation in a couple of days, so I'm almost caught up with the entire current list. I apologize in advance for the name of the Butter track. Blame Miho Hatorie and Yuka Honda -- yeah, the same two women behind Cibo Matto (who also appear in the playlist). Actually, I think one or both of them have some involvement in Gorillaz as well. In any event, I like the sound and I find the name of the track amusing, if offensive.

Corncob Pipe - BTK
Machinehead - Bush
Butterfucker - Butter 08
Pepper - Butthole Surfers
Jerk It Out - The Caesars
Short Skirt, Long Jacket - Cake
Rock ‘n’ Roll Lifestyle - Cake
Carbon Monoxide - Cake
Sheep Go To Heaven - Cake
Word Up! - Cameo
Don't You - Candlebox
Cool Jerk - The Capitols
Life Less Ordinary - Carbon Leaf
Carnival - The Cardigans
Bees - Caribou
She’s a Bad Mama Jama - Carl Carlton
Let’s Go - The Cars
Shake It Up - The Cars
Parisien du Nord - Cheb Mami
Smells Like Compton (NWA v. Nirvana) - Cheeky Boy

Heheh. If you haven't heard Smells Like Compton, look it up. Or ask me to mux it sometime.

More music

2008-06-29T09:01:00.000-04:00

Another twenty, with more Blues Traveler and several tracks from the awesome string quartet Bond. If you've never heard them, you should.

Carolina Blues - Blues Traveler
Theme from Skidoo - Bobby Hughes Experience
Sahara 72 - Bobby Hughes Experience
Hey Coach, Don't Call Me A Queer - The Bobs
It's My Life - Bon Jovi
You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi
Dalalai - Bond
Alexander the Great - Bond
Fuego - Bond
Gypsy Rhapsody - Bond
Rock Steady - Bonnie Raitt
Summer of ‘69 - Bowling for Soup
The Bitch Song - Bowling for Soup
T-Bone Shuffle - Boz Scaggs
Dirtbag - Brad Sucks
The Dirty Boogie - The Brian Setzer Orchestra
Good Vibrations - Brian Wilson
Yeah Toxic (Blades Blend Remix ft. Usher & Ludacris) - Britney Spears
Born in the USA - Bruce Springsteen
Murder Incorporated - Bruce Springsteen

Why is it that every one of these lists seems to include one really embarrassing track? It's not as if guilty pleasures are some kind of virtue. Ah, well. Until tomorrow.

Because this is the only thing I have enough energy to post

2008-06-28T08:36:00.004-04:00

I'm writing these in advance, to the extent that this can be considered writing. Kicking it right in today with Ben Kweller, and running out through some Blues Traveler, with a brief stop at Blackalicious (elevated momentarily to They Might Be Giants territory with this uber-geek track).

Ann Disaster - Ben Kweller
A Southern Thang - Better Than Ezra
Good - Better Than Ezra
Laid - Better Than Ezra
Conjunction Junction - Better Than Ezra
Rollin’ - Big & Rich
Mister Pinstripe Suit - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
The Entertainer - Billy Joel
Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel
You’re Only Human (Second Wind) - Billy Joel
Jealous Again - The Black Crowes
Pump It - The Black Eyed Peas
War Pigs - Black Sabbath
Chemical Calisthenics - Blackalicious
Home - Blessid Union of Souls (no, I did not misspell “blessid”)
2x4 - Blind Melon
What’s My Age Again - Blink-182
The Bad Touch - Bloodhound Gang
Don’t Fear The Reaper - Blue Öyster Cult
Crash Burn - Blues Traveler

An ongoing saga of epic proportions

2008-06-27T08:25:00.001-04:00

I keep adding to my work playlist. Today's segment picks up a little indie edge from Ben Kweller, with a sprinkling of 80s and cheesy pop.

S.P.A.T. - Badly Drawn Boy
Swarm - Badmarsh & Shri
Who Let The Dogs Out - Baha Men
Surf Beat - Balboas
Teri Akhiyan - Bally Sagoo
Venus (Extended Mix) - Bananarama
The Old Apartment - Barenaked Ladies
Get In Line - Barenaked Ladies
Grade 9 - Barenaked Ladies
One Week - Barenaked Ladies
So What’cha Want - The Beastie Boys
Intergalactic - The Beastie Boys
Ch-Check It Out - The Beastie Boys
Brass Monkey - The Beastie Boys
Ghettochip Malfunction (Hell Yes Remix) - Beck
Girl - Beck
The New Pollution - Beck
Poison - Bell Biv Devoe
Rocking the Suburbs - Ben Folds
For Those of Y’all Who Wear Fanny Packs - Ben Folds Five

Ooops...I was wrong. Ben Kweller is at #21. So he'll be in line tomorrow. If you're interested, I'm muxing some of these tracks over at muxtape.

Group the third

2008-06-26T10:05:00.001-04:00

Starting with alpha by artist, since that's how I'm creating the list. I'm already wincing at the first entry.

Voulez-vouz - A*Teens
TNT - AC/DC
Phone Call #27 - Admiral Twin
Rag Doll - Aerosmith
Train Kept A Rollin’ - Aerosmith
Red Tape - Agent Provocateur
Paradise - Alcazar
Transmetropolis - Alcazar
Ritmo Del Amore - Alcazar
Smooth Criminal - Alien Ant Farm
Southbound - The Allman Brothers
Ijii Mongol - Altan Urag
Khukh Tolboton - Altan Urag
Jumpin’ Jack Flash - Ananda Shankar
Party Hard - Andrew W.K.
Pango Pango - The Atomic Fireballs
Show Me How To Live - Audioslave
Turn Up The Radio - Autograph
Pick Up The Pieces - Average White Band
Private Idaho - The B-52’s

If anyone’s interested in hearing any of this stuff let me know, and I’ll throw a muxtape together.

The Next 20

2008-06-25T11:07:00.002-04:00

Let's see if today's selection turns out different from yesterday's in any measure:

Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough - Michael Jackson
Eat the Rich - Aerosmith
Even Better Than the Real Thing - U2
Evenflow - Pearl Jam
Everything To Everyone - Everclear
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Fascinating Rhythm (Openair Remix) - Bhangra Nights
Feel Good Inc. - Gorillaz
Feuer frei - Rammstein
Geek Stink Breath - Green Day
Get Low - Li'l Jon and the Eastside Boys
Get the Party Started - Pink
Gonna Make You Sweat - C+C Music Factory
Gorgonzola - Addison Groove Project
Groove In Green - Addison Groove Project
Harder To Breathe - Maroon 5
Head Sprung ft. Timbaland - LL Cool J
Hollaback Girl - Gwen Stefani
I Alone - Live

Nope, nothing different, really. A couple of things I wouldn't play with my parents around, even though I'm nearly 40, but that's been the case for most of 30 years. :)

Music notes

2008-06-24T09:21:00.000-04:00

Ah ha ha.

Right.

So anyway, I've started culling my iTunes library for my "current mix" again. That sounds like fun, and it is, but it's also a big job, since the library currently sits one shy of 40K tracks. For my amusement, if not for yours, I thought I'd start listing out my current at work/workout playlist. One option that won't be listed, but which is a must-have for anyone who exercises, in DJ Steveboy's Podrunner or Podrunner Intervals podcasts. I subscribe to both, and you should as well.

So for grins, the first 20 items in the current regular rotation. Bear in mind that this list runs to high-energy stuff, so there's a fair dose of otherwise-not-very-listenable dance music, heavy crunch guitar and similar. That should probably cue you to the fact that there are cringeworthy items in the playlist...you've been warned.

AM Radio - Everclear
American Idiot - Green Day
American Jesus - Bad Religion
Anatomic - Afro Celt Sound System
Around the World - Daft Punk
Back in Black - AC/DC
Bawitdaba - Kid Rock
Biff Bang Pow - Southern Culture on the Skids
Blue Turban - Arabic Breakbeats
Brain Stew - Green Day
Bullet the Blue Sky - U2
Cherub Rock (Unedited) - Smashing Pumpkins
Cocaine (Lit Up) - Buckcherry
Comfort Eagle - Cake
Cowboy - Kid Rock
Culo Remix ft. Sean Paul & Li'l John - Pitbull
Cumbersome - Seven Mary Three
Dhol Dogs - Afro Celt Sound System
Discotheque - U2
Don't Phunk with My Heart - Black-Eyed Peas

I think I'm surprised that Kid Rock managed to show up twice in that first 20. Hopefully, the presence of ACSS, U2, Daft Punk and SCOTS is enough to overwhelm him.

RIP: George Carlin

2008-06-23T07:41:00.002-04:00

Long my very favorite comedian (I mean, for something like 25 years) and someone I took as an example to be followed for his outspoken frankness, if not for his personal habits. Go carefully, George. You will be missed.

With this luck, the trip to the hereafter is an airplane, and he'll be asked to preboard by getting on the plane. For George, Hell would be an eternity of bad grammar and mangled syntax.

First attempts with Creature Creator

2008-06-17T09:34:00.001-04:00

I arrived home last night to the joy of a FedEx envelope on my doorstep. This thin, white bundle of joy contained one (1) installer for Spore Creature Creator for Macintosh. Installation proceeded (prosod?) apace.

The installer is Mac-typical, and presented no problems. The install was actually surprisingly fast. The program launched rapidly, and took over the screen. To my surprise, Command-Tabbing works! For instance, I wanted to try and recreate a Unioc from Howard Tayler's Schlock Mercenary strip, but I needed a reference. So a searched for "Ebbirnoth," (the primary Unioc character in the strip), pulled up a couple of images to go by, then launched Creature Creator. Since the game allows me to tab out to other apps, I could page back and forth between CC and Camino to check the quality of my work (which is debatable, but I'm new at it).

The Creature Creator's controls are pretty simple. Deceptively so, in fact. For Mac folks, make sure you're using a two-button mouse with a scroll wheel/ball, or you'll miss out on a lot of the fine control. More on this later. For now, here are the Unioc and the snufflehunter.

Spore Creature Creator: Momentary Nonstart

2008-06-16T08:53:00.000-04:00

I was thrilled last week at WWDC -- not by anything at WWDC (well, maybe some of that, but I'm not allowed to talk about it). Rather, I was elated to get, by way of Ken Denmead at Wired, an invitation to the early preview of Spore's Creature Creator. I immediately downloaded and installed in using my Parallels VM on the MacBook, and was shortly thereafter crestfallen.

It won't run in the VM.

Insufficient graphics card is the diagnosis, and while that's not really surprising, it's a little disappointing. Oh well. EA's people were quick to respond to my request for a Mac installer disc, and sent me an installation code right away. So in a day or so, I should be up and evolving. As it were.

So, EA gets points for fast response. And the thing about it not running in a VM is really kind of neutral, since I don't regard a VM as a good gaming environment to start with. What's missing in this whole equation, though, is a version of the EA download/distribution manager for Mac OS X. If that piece was in place, I'd be busy creating even now, instead of watching the mail for my installer. Beyond that, it speaks to a lack of respect for the Mac market.

Still and all, I'm excited to be a part of the preview, even though I have to wait. Stay tuned, and we'll see what develops.

A little lagniappe for Pops!

2008-06-15T10:52:00.001-04:00

Don't send a lame Father's Day eCard.
Try JibJab Sendables!

Seat 10F

2008-06-14T15:32:00.001-04:00

My very favorite cabin seat on the A319.

Midday at WWDC

2008-06-11T16:37:00.001-04:00

Two wings and very little prayer

2008-06-04T23:24:00.001-04:00

A sweet bit of serendipity this morning. Forgot something in the house on my way down the drive, came back, and found this little dude on the door handle. He barely held still long enough for a picture, contrary to mantis’ general rep as very relaxed and nearly immobile. He really dug my TZ3, and kept trying to get atop it, which, since the camera can’t take pictures of itself, made photographing him a challenge.

I left him on a tomato plant, with an admonishment to earn his keep.

After that, off to E’s school for “Parent’s Fun Day.” For me, though I enjoyed being with E, it was more like “Parent’s listen to a dozen kids screaming at the top of their lungs” day. To boot, it was the first day of pool use, and as usual, E has forgotten all about going underwater, is afraid of anything over her navel, etc. So swimming, which is usually a blast, was not fun. I survived. L survived. E survived. That’s about the best we could ask for today.

Got to work at lunch time, to be greeted with news that our office renovations are finished. Which left my office looking like this:

Rugged, dirt-hiding, nicely-shaded but above all clean carpet? Check. (The previous carpet was rarely even vacuumed, let alone cleaned.) Gently-colored walls? Check. Old nail and fastener holes covered? Check. New furniture? Check. (Well, new to me, anyway.) Old monster hutch gone? Check. Blinds back? Not yet. But okay.

So it looks nice. But all my stuff remained to be moved back. Three hours later, it looked more like this:

Directly to the left, hidden from view, is a cabinet with all my tools, gear and files in it. I only had three boxes of stuff. Half a box of that went home with me, and another half a box I'm parceling out to Goodwill. Most of the rest of my gear is in clear plastic shoeboxes. Six months ago, fed up with all the crap in my office, I spent two days cleaning, reducing and reorganizing. It paid off...my coworkers are all barely even started on their move-back. I'm done and working. Kind of nice, really. I've pared my office down to a minimum. Having the new test/bench room really helps.

On the home front, dog-sitter (thanks, Pop) and house/cat-sitters lined up. Major construction projects are mostly tied up and buttoned down. Lawn’s cut. My gear and clothes are together. Mom arrives tomorrow after noon (I should be off work early). We’ll deliver J to his temporary residence, hit the sack early, and head out to the airport Friday AM.

Which is cool. But. I’ve now been preparing for travel, traveling, recuperating from travel (work-wise), moving, reorganizing, thrown out of my office, moved back into my office, etc. for nearly three weeks. It drives me bonkers. My routine is totally disconnected, I’m unanchored from the waypoints I use to mark my days, and I feel completely discombobulated. This will only be compounded by spending the week in a way where the day of the week is largely irrelevant, where I spend most of the day in windowless conference room, and where my only contact with home is iChat. I love travel, but hate traveling. A paradox, I understand, but there it is. Still, one more week, then summer settles in.

Just remember to pack the GPS for caching and navigation, so I'm off.

Bedded down

2008-06-03T12:42:00.000-04:00

Finished!

The side yard bed and corner bed in the front are complete. Last night I installed a well for the crawlspace vent, smoothed out the soil, laid down 150' of soaker hose and attached a quad bibb to the spigot, and put weedblocker fabric down over the whole thing. It watered all night, and I’ll water it nightly until we plant. Hopefully, it’ll settle enough to allow me to till in an inch or so of composted horse manure, but that’s not a requirement.

That first pic is the side bed from the upper end. Down at the bottom, you can see the air handler that I'm going to try and hide. Probably with honeysuckle. From the lower view, you can see how the beds step down about seven inches every 10'.

The front bed wraps around the new crawlspace door. Throughout, I removed about 8" of soil, then replaced that plus the 7" depth of the rail tie with black loam topsoil. I should be able to grow anything.

Packing has started for the trip to what E calls “‘cisco.” Departure is imminent. I’m not looking forward to the flight, frankly, but I am looking forward to visiting the city again. Mom’s coming along this year to see the Left Coast, so it should be pretty awesome.

Ah, well. Back to work.

Glad to know we have a choice...

2008-06-02T21:18:00.000-04:00

In related news, my mandarin orange can announces that I will receive “whole segments.” Which sounds like a topological impossibility to me.

Buy now!

2008-05-29T23:12:00.001-04:00

In the men’s at a local Wal-Mart is this simple stainless-steel vending machine selling ... well, truthfully, I don't know what’s selling, but it’s only a buck. What the hell? How can you pass up a bargain like that?

This week’s (unexpected) project

2008-05-29T21:57:00.001-04:00

Meet the week’s project.

This was a purely unexpected one. Just before leaving for the beach, I was closing the shed doors and noticed that one of the trims boards on the front looked odd. I poked it with a tool and, lo, it was punky. Rotten as hell.

So I ripped it off, figuring to replace it when I got back. I started after we arrived, and promptly found that the entire framing setup and all the trim was absolutely full of carpenter ants. Ripped it all off, and built new doors.

While I was at it, I figured it was time to replace the steps I'd ripped off a while back, so I built new ones. And you know what? The cost of lumber has gone up along with everything else. The steps and doors, plus another two-tread set of steps for the barn, cost nearly $300! Just incredible.

But it's a better setup than before. The steps, previously a wimply 3' wide, are now a generous 6'. The doors are simpler and cleaner, made of paneling and 100% pressure-treated trim members. The hardware is all galvanized or powder-finished, the door fastens top and bottom to keep vermin out, it has internal stops for better weather resistance, a functional hasp and pin, and larger hook eyes on the lower portion for easy fastening. All minor stuff, but it adds up to a real improvement.

Just..expensive for what it is.

Last night's dinner

2008-05-29T21:41:00.000-04:00

Last night’s supper. A quickie batch of Annie’s shells and cheese, a little broccoli sauteed with soy sauce, and thumb-sized shrimp cooked with a little olive oil. Deeee-lish!

This is not something I'd advertise

2008-05-29T20:50:00.001-04:00

I’m just sayin’ is all.

High School Diplomas!

2008-05-29T20:44:00.001-04:00

I’m inclined to believe -- and this is just my opinion, of course -- that anyone dumb enough to call a number spray-painted on a foam-core sign advertising “School at Home” and “HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMAS” probably couldn’t get such an item by any of the other, more...normal means.

Your tax dollars at work!

2008-05-29T20:31:00.000-04:00

Do the Kannapolis Police understand that when taxpayers complain about the inefficiency of government service, this is precisely the sort of thing they mean?

I was picking up groceries on the way home recently when I was treated to this...four squad cars (including an unmarked, and five city-paid police officers, responding to a...parking lot fender-bender. Do what?

No, really...two officers, I can understand. More than that, and you're into “more supervisors than workers” territory. Good to see the K-town fuzz taking care of business and keeping everyone safe.

Miss E and the Angry Inchworm

2008-05-29T20:26:00.001-04:00

Found whilst helping me dig a flower bed.

Door update

2008-05-29T20:20:00.000-04:00

Ta-da! Finished. Landing bar and barrel bolts installed. Just needs caulk and the well. Actually, it’s done already, I just haven’t taken pictures yet. Fear not, valiant reader! I will dampen your spirits with more displays of meatball carpentry in short order!

Update: Forgot I had a picture of it stained. A lovely Amsterdam blue. Pity it covers that neat grain pattern.

Great googly-moogly!

2008-05-29T20:13:00.001-04:00

Snapped this at driving by a new “senior village” (trans. - “old folks’ home”). Fifteen flags. Reckon they figure they have a pretty sharp bead on their audience?

Bruce "Utah" Duncan Phillips (15 May 1935 - 23 May 2008), R.I.P.

2008-05-27T14:59:00.000-04:00

I missed the news last week while I was away, but Utah Phillips is dead. From a letter written to friends shortly before his death:

“I spent a long time finding my way—couches, floors, big towns, small towns, marginal pay (folk wages). But I found that people seemed to like what I was doing. The folk music family took me in, carried me along, and taught me the value of song far beyond making a living. It taught me that I don't need wealth, I don't need power, and I don't need fame. What I need is friends, and that's what I found— everywhere—and not just among those on the stage, but among those in front of the stage as well. . . . The future? I don't know. But I have songs in a folder I've never paid attention to, and songs inside me waiting for me to bring them out. Through all of it, up and down, it's the song. It's always been the song.”

Go carefully, Utah. You lived well, may you have so much in the next life.

In Flanders Fields

2008-05-26T08:27:00.000-04:00

In Flanders Fields
Lt Col John McCrae, MD

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Success!

2008-05-16T21:58:00.001-04:00

Crawlspace door complete, well in place, pavers laid. All that remains is to touch up some paint and put the Sweep & Lock in place (can't be done on wet brick, and it's been raining).

Ridin' for Jesus

2008-05-14T14:35:00.000-04:00

Used the iPhone to snap a quickie of homeboy here at a yard sale a couple of weeks back. Where to begin? How about at the bottom...dig that snazzy belt. Stylin'!

Then there's the shirt. This dude and his spousal unit* are the first living, breathing members of the Cowboy Church Network I've ever come across. This means that they may, in fact, be dressed in their Sunday best. Even though it was Saturday.

The shades don't bear a mention. Every dork in creation** owns a pair of wraparound shades now. I'm somewhat shocked to realize that I was around as they came into style.

But that hair. Oh, that incredible hair. So short and receding in the front, so cropped and clean over the ears, so neatly blocked on the back. Right up until you hit the thumb-size hank of rattail that hasn't been in vogue for any male older than seven since I was in junior high.

Seriously, man..what were you thinking? “Man, I really wanna grow me a mullet. A big ol' shaggy ape drape. But m'wife don't like 'em, and I ain't got so much up top any more. Looks like I'll have to fix me up a rat tail! Yee-haw!"

The goatee and one-day stubble contribute to the image of a hyperpituitary first grader. Lose the 'tail, my friend. Close your eyes, give the scissors to your wife, throw down a couple of shots if you need to, and resign yourself to your age cohort.

It happens to the best of us.

*Presumably churchy types -- even Cowboy Churchy types -- do not, unlike many bikers, refer to their womenfolk as “bitches.” They do, however, use the word “impacting” on their website in a way that's almost as offensive.

**Myself included.

A tree blows in Davidson

2008-05-14T14:31:00.001-04:00

On the 10th, a line of storms blew through the area, dousing us with rain and -- in some cases -- hail. That was enough to knock much of the pollen off the trees, out of the air, and so on. On Monday, the wind came along behind scouring the air again, and giving the tree outside my office a blow-dry. If you click through for the large image, you can tell that the giant pecan behind the bank is leaning even further...the wind at 30ft off the ground was nearly constant.

Invigorate?

2008-05-14T14:23:00.000-04:00

Dear BP:

Invigorate. Really? Invigorate?

Listen, marketing types -- I don't want my car invigorated. Nor do I want it revitalized, energized, vivified, roused, bucked-up or rejuvenated. Maybe I'm getting old. I understand this. But I'm sane enough at this point in my life to understand that I drive a 90bhp 90's-vintage diesel sedan, not a frakkin' sports coupe, okay?

I'll be satisfied if your fuel just allows me to get from point A to point B without any major engine damage. And without, thank you, any invigoration.

2008-05-14T11:56:00.000-04:00

Here's what I ripped out of the crawlspace entry day before yesterday. Tasty, eh? Crappy paint, poorly secured, ill-fitting...all the best features of a quality construction job (and, to be fair, the excellent maintenance it's had over the years...not).

So I tore it out. Finally. Reworking the bed around it was the actual motivator that kicked the job over, but that's kind of immaterial. It needed doing. Once the hole was open, I discovered the reason the door frame wasn't flush with the brick -- the lazy-ass builder had failed to notch one of two joists deeply enough! The first (lateral) cut was deep enough, they just didn't carve out enough depth. Thirty seconds with a saber saw fixed it.

This time, the top member of the frame and the stops are anchored with a series of coated deck screws, while the verticals and the base are set with Liquid Nails, as I mentioned earlier. After a day's dry time, this sucker is rock solid.

As usual, I managed to misjudge my lumber needs just enough to be annoying. I picked up one too few 1x2 boards. Actually, I got enough for the one stop I'd originally planned to install, but when I decided to stop all four sides, that left me one short. But I digress. Come to think of it, this entire blog qualifies as a digression, more or less, so what's one more?

I cut the door from 3/4" sanded exterior plywood. I would have used pressure treated, but they were out. Since the plywood isn't actually in ground or masonry contact, and since my final step will be to stain the entire assembly, I think it'll be fine. If not, I'll replace the panel later, no sweat. I only had to trim it a little to get a good fit, and with the stops, it's far more weather/wind/critter-tight.

All the hardware is run-of-the-mill galvanized stuff for rust-proofing. The bar of 1x2 at the top of the door serves as both handle and “landing gear” -- the door will sit on it and stay level when opened, making it more comfortable to get in and out and easier to pick back up to close. When it's snugged into the frame and barrel-locked, it's surprisingly solid for what it is.

Tonight I'll finish setting the frame for the “well” surrounding the door, and hopefully get the sand and pavers in, as well as drop a bead of cedar-color caulk around it (the caulk is probably overkill, but there are flaws in the masonry in 2-3 places that result in some gaposis, and I want to make sure no baby snakes find their way in). That'll leave Thursday evening to put a coat of stain on everything, inside and out, and then it's ready to have topsoil dropped around it on Friday/Saturday.

Incidentally, I kind of apologize for all the minutiae on my home repairs. It's just what I'm doing at the moment. Work is a dry hole, since the semester is shutting down and I'm prepping for vacation. Emma's antics lately don't bear talking about (well, they might, but it wouldn't be pleasant), and I'm tired to death of politics. So this is what you get.

More Door

2008-05-13T16:46:00.000-04:00

Ripped out the crawlspace door last night.

Found out it was only secured by four nails into the (notched) porch joists above. Nice. Had planned to use parasleeve anchors to fix the new frame in place, but opted for Liquid Nails instead, to avoid issues with splitting the brick.

Got the frame set it place, the door panel cut, and the stops screwed in. Tonight I'll put one last stop in, hinge and lock the door, and start building the well. The door, instead of swinging open, will drop down so it's automatically out of the way. Two galvanized barrel bolts will secure it, instead of the rusty rotating hasp-and-key bit that's in there now, and the well around it will be lined with pavers so it's easy to keep clean, and level.

Pictures this evening.

Happy Post-Mother's Day

2008-05-12T02:49:00.000-04:00

Saturday was productive, marginally. I finished setting the railroad ties for the front north corner planting bed, and started digging it out. Actually, the soil in this bed isn't awful, just full of weeds, oak and sweetgum roots, and it's not sloped well. So out it came, and I raked the finished slope to the desired grade.

Errands in town were minimal, and were followed by Roscoe's birthday gathering at Bio-M-Bo's (which everyone regards as a strange name...we've resorted to simply calling it "bimbo's"). No live music, regrettably, but the adobado chicken was spicy, and the Negra Modelo was smooth, so that's okay. A stop by the Teeter for yellow carrots -- which we've discovered E consumes ravenously -- then home to bed.

I actually got L's Mother's Day present a few weeks back as part of a silent auction supporting a Charlotte teen theatre group. Yoga lessons. She's had one...if we can stop being sick, she can go back.

Sunday, eh...not so good. Finished the bed digging and headed to Lowe's for materials right before it poured a p all through town. At Lowe's, I'd planned on about $50 in materials to created a well for the crawlspace door, line it with pavers and build a new door. That turned into $175 for materials plus tomato and pepper starts, planting containers, and so on and so on. The rain started, and finished, while we were in the store. Missed it by that much, as they say.

Then off to Starbucks for Mother's Day desserts with Lynn and Steve. What's to say? It's Starbucks...which means it's passable, if not outstanding. Back at home, we hulled, washed and froze a gallon of fresh strawberries for winter consumption. Halfway through that exercise I had to stop and put up the dog and chickens, close up the house and warn the neighbors of a coming tornadic storm. Missed us by a couple of miles to the south, thank heaven, because it had golf-ball size hail (a fact the weather drones seemed to take great pleasure it repeating ad nausaeum). You could, however, hear the rushing wind over all that distance, which was a little creepy.

Oddly, this was the worst we got. Shrop, who lives about 2 miles northwest of us, got this. Strange weather.

The evening, and on into the morning, has been dominated by attempting to reformat and update an Inspiron 2200 for Bob. This has been an exercise.

I'd rather go dig clay.

Everything is Miscellaneous

2008-05-07T14:49:00.000-04:00

After six months of dilatory attempts, I have (more or less) finished David Weinberger's Everything Is Miscellaneous: The Power of the New Digital Disorder.

I wish I could issue a firm pronouncement of my opinions of Weinberger's work, but I can't. So instead, some general observations.

First, Weinberger is in love with metadata, and with systems that mine metadata in an inherently organic, user-driven way. That's all well and good. The problem is that he doesn't seem to see any practical limit to the amount of metadata that's worth accumulating about a given object. I disagree with that perspective, because after a while, the pile of metadata becomes so dense that the marginal return of adding further descriptors is vanishingly small. Pile on enough metadata about an object, and you wind up recreating the object, for all intents.

Second, Weinberger is in love with technology. This should more or less follow from the first observation, because metadata rich organization is necessarily high-technology organization. It is not possible to practically maintain rich metadata sets on index cards. Weinberger's faith that high-technology systems are the savior of organization is touching, but has major flaws. For one thing, it is a hopelessly Western-centric, first-world-centric point of view. It's reliant on broad availability of cheap, high-speed, interconnected computing power that simply isn't a fact of life in the developing world. Weinbergers vision works for me, with my two laptops, iPhone and broadband-wireless-everywhere lifestyle. For Nanook and his sled team, not so much.

Further, for the world to organize (or disorganize) itself in Weinberger fashion, we have to assume bottomless supplies of cheap energy. Energy to build and maintain the technological systems that gather and mine metadata, primarily. I'm not convinced that an energy-rich society is a long-term possibility. If energy goes, or becomes prohibitively expensive, suddenly it becomes a lot less of a priority to have wireless access to a multi-billion record database, compared to, say, walking to the library for a book.

Finally, I think Weinberger is guilty of simply spreading a little technology frosting over old concepts and calling them new. In discussing "new learning," he talks about now in the new information age, recall of facts is a skill more suited to quiz shows than to education. I call philosophical bullshit on this argument from the start, but even if you accept it, it's not new. Instant recall of facts has rarely ever been as important as the ability to know where to find the relevant facts.

Our ability to find the required facts is certainly enhanced by our technology. But the fundamental need is not new or special.

I guess at the core of things, I'd say that Weinberger is a smart guy with a lot of good ideas, and some genuinely penetrating insights. That said, he's also guilty of believing his own bullshit, and that ends up turning what might have been an interesting book into an exercise in pro-technology cheerleading. For me, anyway. Your mileage, as they say, may vary.

"Gas Prices Stink"

2008-05-07T09:10:00.000-04:00

That was the sum total statement of a 6" circle of vinyl plastered to the back of the vehicle in front of me this morning. The vehicle in question was a Chevy Silverado full-size pickup sporting a V-8 engine that gets, on average, about 15-16 MPG.

For the driver, I suppose the sticker was a statement of rock-bottom truth. I'm sure in his case, gas prices do stink. Nevertheless...

The truck was new. Spiffy-shiny new, I mean. Which means he bought it knowing full well what gas prices have been doing (there's no way the truck could be over a year old). From that, we can deduce that the driver is either (a) clinically insane, or (b) an idiot.

There's an interesting deduction to be made, as well, from the juxtaposition of his mini gas-rant with his other sticker -- "American And Proud Of It." Ah -- doubtless one of Dick Cheney's "The American way of life is not negotiable" crowd.

It figures.

Image annoyance

2008-05-06T12:33:00.001-04:00

I really don't like the way ecto handles image uploads. I can't figure out how to stop it clipping the images when it thinks they're too big. Trying Mars Edit to see if it improves the situation.

Ecto does offer full rich-text editing, which Mars Edit doesn't seem too. That's kind of a bother, but possibly not enough to matter.

UPDATE: Hmm. That was...unsatisfactory.

UPDATE: Uploaded an image to Flickr from iPhoto. Inserting via Mars Edit's media manager.

UPDATE: Better, though I just discovered I can accomplish the same thing with ecto. I kind of think I like Mars Edit's interface better, tho.

Dig It, Redux

2008-05-06T12:25:00.001-04:00

After some slow going while I was down sick, work on the bed has resumed apace. Digging completed Saturday AM.

Depth is pretty consistent across the bed, except at the extreme upper end, where there's a little downslope to help direct runoff. Or, perhaps, because the vein of undiggable clay ran closer to the surface there, eliciting an exasperated "Screw this noise!" when I tried to even out the depth. You decide which...or maybe both. The pile you see at the top right is five cubic yards of loamy topsoil, delivered that morning.

Spread out, it looks more like this:

I'll be moving the remainder of the fill in by trailersfull in order to avoid the landscaper's exorbitant delivery charges, but the basics are in place, and I've start setting the beds around the front to accompany these.

Next steps:

Complete topsoil fill of side bed.

Install stepping boards to control soil slope in side bed.

Lay ties for front corner bed.

Filet corner between side and front with steel/fiberglas edging.

Remove hard clay top in side/corner beds and fill with topsoil.

Plant!

Edge beds with liriope and topsoil.

Spring Hill Nurseries and Park Seed are going to hear from me in the next week or so with orders for astilbes, hydrangeas, hostas and other shade-loving plants. By next spring, I should have actual landscaping.

To complete the exercise, once the plants are in place, I'll order batches of ladybugs, red wigglers, nightcrawlers and crickets. A week or so later, I'll half-bury some clay pots to make toad abodes. And at whatever point it's convenient, the liriope planting will soften the edges of those ties. I'll try to get close-ups, but the texturing on some of the ties, where years of trains pressed them into the ballast stone, is beautiful.

Illustrative

2008-04-27T15:20:00.001-04:00

Surfing a popular news aggregator this afternoon, I noticed this succession of headlines. No wonder people are distracted to the point of near-imbecility. In the estimation of this aggregator (and by convention, therefore, in the estimation of its readers, these two facts are of more or less identical importance.

Congratulations, reddit. You are officially irrelevant (if you ever had any relevance to start with).

Dig it!

2008-04-27T11:04:00.000-04:00

For the last several days, when I've not been busy being ill, I've been working alongside the house to install a large planting bed.

This is not the simple exercise it may sound.

The area is partly what used to be covered by the deck (under the new bay window). The entire area is about 9 feet by 30 feet, slopes a little ungently, has a pair of nasty crape myrtle trees growing in it, and contains our air handler as well. Yuck. Plus, the soil is basically hard clay. Down to about four inches, it might be amendable, with enough patience and compost. Below that, it's hardpan.

So the first step of the process is boxing out the bed with old railroad ties (which I love as borders. I had nearly enough left over from Emma's play yard to skirt the whole area.

Next, the serious digging begins. I'm removing enough soil (or "proto-sandstone") to leave with with roughly a foot of total depth to the top of the ties. (That crack in the tie above? Pulled shut with a 10-inch galvanized lag screw I had left over from something else...that was fun, let me tell you.)

Here you can see the basic outcome. Essentially, I'm building a huge flowerpot. I'll backfill this with good topsoil from the landscape center up the street. They're due to deliver five cubic yards on Wednesday. I'm hoping to have everything dug out so they can drop it right into the bed. In the meantime, I'm finding lots of interesting stuff -- old copper and iron gas pipe, a complete place-setting of flatware, old toy balls, assorted bits of siding trimmings, half bricks, and so on.

Oh, and a skink. Found him in the mulch one evening while Emma was playing nearby. Once I got him calmed down, he discovered that my hand was a welcome source of heat in the evening cool, so he stuck around.

At first, Emma was a little reticent about touching him.

That went away soon enough. To the skink's chagrin, doubtless. We let him go in an old oak stump nearby, and I dropped a left-over half cubic yard of topsoil into the bottom of the new bed.

Not bad.

Now I'm working on digging out the rest of it. The crape myrtle came out more easily than I'd anticipated. Biggest problem so far is the layer of gray hardpan about 10 inches below the surface. It's not diggable. It can be scraped off, flaked off, or chipped off, but digging out a good spade full of this stuff just isn't on the cards. Still, things are moving along.

I'm setting the ties as I move up the bed, pinning them into the clay with 18 inch section of 3/8" rebar. I'm also learning and filling a quarter-cubic-meter barrow full to the top with clay and trying to push it uphill is a losing battle. So I'm moving smaller loads at a time. Hopefully, I'll have this all done by next weekend. I'll post more pics then.

It's Amazing Levitating Jesus™!

2008-04-27T10:40:00.001-04:00

Went to church a while back for my nephew Wyatt's christening. St. Thomas has a beautiful sanctuary, and part of the Easter decor involved a large collection of flowers in front of a plain wood cross. Affixed to the front center of the cross was a bracket, from the end of which dangled a Christ figure plainly designed to be hung on a flat wall. The net effect was an image of Jesus levitating over a field of blooms, powered presumably by the sheer uplift of pollen.

I wish I'd been sitting more to the front, so I could've captured the full effect. It humorous, if well-intentioned. Oh, and to the right, you can see the amazing Klingon Vigil Lamp. This this I seriously do not get.

For non-Catholics, the vigil light is kept burning next to the tabernacle when there's consecrated host inside. Which is pretty much always. Growing up, our vigil light was, if I remember right, a small candle. Fine.

This thing, though, is brushed steel in the shape of a U with terrifyingly pointy uprights. In the center of the U is a cherry-red lamp with an electric light inside. The full sense is, as I noted, very Klingon.

Weird.

Amazing Transforming Owl

2008-04-20T21:39:00.000-04:00

No idea what species this is, but the reaction to "aggressor" owls is...wait for it...a hoot.

Man about the yard

2008-04-20T16:42:00.001-04:00

The goings-on this weekend have been domestic. Visits to the grandparents' are cancelled as E fights off the remains of a virus. L and I slept late this morning, since E was kind enough to accommodate. Aside from a brief interval of rain, the weather has also been cooperative.

The grass is receiving its first haircut of the year, thanks to a delay engendered by a faulty trickle charger and a dead mower battery. Seventy-five dollars later, I have a new, more reliable charger and a new battery, along with a functional mower. The neighbors, I feel sure, are happy.

Also finally getting to work on a new bed where the old deck used to be. Pictures will be along shortly.

Convenience?

2008-04-12T20:49:00.000-04:00

Uhhh...no. If it was "for my convenience," the changing station would be right here where I am now, not out the door and down the hall in another room. Another in an ongoing series of corpspeak complaints

why?

2008-04-08T00:27:00.000-04:00

Dependent arising: "The understanding that any phenomenon ‘exists’ only because of the ‘existence’ of other phenomena in an incredibly complex web of cause and effect covering time past, time present and time future."

Elusive question. Why? In roughly eight years of keeping an online journal of some form, I've never been able to answer it. There are bits and bobs of an answer around -- to post funny stuff I find, to rant about things that infuriate me, to show pictures I like. In the end, I have a sneaking suspicion that it represents an attempt at self-definition. This, I am coming to realize, is an exercise in recursion.

I exist only because of others. I am defined by what I represent to others. Self-definition is a handy illusion, but it is an illusion. I can only hint and suggest. In the end, the picture is colored by others. In the end, all I can do is navigate the web, not create or destroy it. Everything I am, and everything I do, is intimately linked to everything, and everyone, else. A given link may be too small, too subtle, to pluck from the tangle, but it is there, nevertheless.

I half-suspect, when it's late, that I'm more a subject than I've previously acknowledge to the peculiar American mythos of the rugged individual. That's a false bravado on our part. He doesn't exist...never has.

Maybe what this is really about is a coming to terms with my rejection of that mythos, and my own attempts to acknowledge dependent arising.