I left San Francisco on the 21st, equinox. I didn't learn this fact until reminded of it while visiting my friends, the Kings, in Livermore. As fate would have it, I had stopped by Dark Carnival on my way eastward to replace a hardcover I'd recently given away (as well as stopping by zachary's for a half-baked that fed me for days) and what do I find there? Neal Stephenson's new novel, Anathem. My knees don't quite buckle as I have a bookgasm, whispering to myself sweet nothings of astonishment that no doubt amused the woman on the other side of the bookcase. On the cover, an analemma and someone dressed as a monk. I always leave Dark Carnival having spent more than I'd intended but seldom have I left with such an ethereal sense of glee. Needless to say, by now I've devoured the 937 pages and have tracked down an unabridged audio version to which I set my pace this afternoon as I tread the Mist Trail. But I get ahead of myself.
I'm spending three weeks on walkabout while my brother and his family are enjoying Snug Harbor down by the sea. I flew into Las Vegas on Sunday the 14th, was graciously picked up by Mr. Craig Brown and taken to their new, opulent, temporary digs. Their water-damaged home grows closer to restoration, and they're more than ready to be able to come home at last. I spent the night with them there, enjoying a lovely roast for dinner and the company of Chrissy's sister and her husband. A few interesting conversations with Craig in the back yard, as well.
In the morning Craig kindly brought me over to their place and I began to prepare Appa for departure. I stacked all the unneeded Burn gear neatly by Craig's fence, checked Appa's oil, turned on the fridge and I was off to Trader Joe's to fill the larder for the journey.
That evening I rolled over windmill-festooned hills towards the blazing orange disc of the setting sun and glided into Bakersfield, where an RV campground awaited me. Power! Wifi! I enjoyed it while it lasted. I wrote some postcards then drifted off to sleep in the warm September air, awash in an infinitude of crickets and the muted passing shush of the highway.
Tuesday the 16th saw me rising early then cooling my heels because the registration office didn't open 'til nine. I'd gotten in the night before just after they'd closed, so hadn't had a chance to register. That put a slow pace on the morning which I found myself amenable to, while at the same time there grew an increasing eagerness to be on my way, the blacktop flying by beneath me, Appa all rattles, rumbles and creaks.
After stopping by Zachary's on College for a stuffed spinach and mushroom which filled a shelf of the refridgerator, I crossed the bridge I once climbed back in my reckless youth and entered the City. I picked up my brother without even pulling over, though I did stop. Scott is car-free in a city that encourages such decisions and so seldom ventures outside of its bounds. This being the case, he jumped at the opportunity to climb aboard Appa and strike off for parts South for a few days- Santa Cruz and a day trip to Monterey for the aquarium.
We enjoyed that gustatorial tour de force, Santa Cruz Zack's for breakfast, leftover Oakland Zack's for lunch. Makes for a good two-meal day.
The aquarium is a marvel- if you haven't seen it, stop reading now and make your travel plans. I was charmed, as always, by the otters, and reminded of how much larger sea otters are compared with their freshwater cousins. Scott's become quite the shutterbug- to the lasting satisfaction of his family, I might add, who've been trying to get him to channel his artistic talents in that direction for some time now. He's been taking a lot of time-lapse video- a macro shot of the infinitely whirling cylinder of sardines, our campfire over the course of an hour as it decayed into cinder and ash.
Yesterday, on Friday the 19th, we stopped to get Appa some (expensive but worth it) preventative medicine in the tire and lube department and headed back to San Francisco. Scott had a rehearsal with a group who are working on a series of short radio plays adapted from the work of William F. Nolan. Nolan has approved the scripts and the recordings will be available on iTunes for download. A few of them are planned for live performance along with a burlesque show. They have a real Twilight Zone feel to them- very noir. They had a couple of no-shows, so I was asked if I would read a part or two on some of them, which was exciting and fun. Having enjoyed a great many radio shows and audio books over the years, it was a treat to be let in on the back side of the process.
This morning Scott and I each finished half our plate of chilaquiles, taking the other half home for lunch. I'm sitting in a coffee bar two blocks from where Appa is parked between KQED and the MUNI yard- one of the safer spots, if not the quietest, as busses go by all night long -but there's also someone in the KQED lobby all night long.
Tomorrow I head out to pick up more Zack's en passant as I make my way to Livermore to see my buddy Noah who has a show going at the Pleasanton Playhouse. Then I strike off for points East, Crane Flat campground and Yosemite Valley. My new hiking boots are aching for the trails and I'm looking forward to smelling like wood smoke.
I've been taking pictures, but I thought I'd get the text of it down first, adding the images once I've had a chance to sort through them and do any clean-up I deem meet.
reading on paper: The Solitues by John Crowley (bought new at Bookshop Santa Cruz because I hate the Borders that's two blocks away) reading on e-ink: Orca by Steven Brust reading on MP3: To Say Nothing of the Dog, by Connie Willis
It has been just over a year, I see, since I last posted to this journal. A shame, as there are a great many things that happened during the past year that I'd like to be able to recall with greater clarity. The most important thing that happened during the last year was my relationship with T. After years of friendship and flirting, we became a couple in May of last year. Last night we ceased to be one.
I'm living in Oceanside these days and T and her dog moved in here with me a few months ago. It's a lovely place, but is ninety minutes away from greater L.A., which can be somewhat isolating. With T moving out next week, I'll feel the bite of that distance all the more keenly. A bright note: Amtrak will take me to Union Station for twenty bucks- which is a deal when you look at fuel prices these days- and there's a station within walking distance of my front door.
I turned to this journal because I thought it important to capture the essence of my reaction. Maybe if I remember more, things will suck less next time. Without diving into gory details, what complaints she had I could find no fault with. I'm all too aware of my shortcomings, and feel certain that after years of only getting the Todd highlight reel, coming face to face with the fallible and fault-ridden flesh and blood must come as something of a disappointment.
So all that is nothing new. What can I learn?
I was caught off-guard because, while I knew things were stagnating for various reasons, I thought I'd get a chance to sit down, go over what we both need to work on, and see how we move ahead from there. Next time I'll be quicker to address anything I feel is going astray. My partner wont always be willing to sit down and work things out by the time things get bad. To boil it down to a more general rule, don't expect other people to have the same mindset and expectations. Sounds laughably simple when expressed that way, but it's an error I've seen over and over again. Projection of our own perceptions and frames of mind onto those we interact with rather than looking objectively and being certain before proceeding.
More than once she'd ask me when I was going to update my journal. Well, I guess this is what it took.
With the ice broken, as it were, I'll likely be posting here more often. Hopefully with more photography. HDR stuff. I won't just go all emo and plaster the walls with bad poetry about loneliness and desolation. If there's something you learn, having ridden these waves time and again, it's a certain emotional resilience. A certain perspective.
So anyway. Hi. Good to be back. Go out there and drink some water. And, to end this on a happy note, I'll share my favorite joke these days. A sexy math joke, if you can believe such a thing.
What's the square root of sixty-nine?
Eight somethin'.
Thanks, folks, thanks. I'm here all week. Try the steak!
I'm working on an infinity mirror project for the outside of the Tesseract. It's rare and pleasing to get such satisfying results on the first day of a project.
First day was mostly R&D. We've got to split the mirrors on the walls due to the steel reinforcement bars and we've learned that we'll likely have to do the same for the door, as, without reinforcement, 4'x4' is much to fragile. We might consider making it smaller and still singular for effect. We'll see what we learn making the ones we know we have to cut. I'm going back to Paul's on Monday to start cutting mirror and assembling the first wall pieces.
I'm starting work on the sexy CD for this year's collection of themed mix CDs for Faire. I'm soliciting suggestions for sexy songs to put on it. Having 'down' or 'dirty' in the song title earns bonus points, but it's really song quality and sexiness that I'm looking for.
My nephew is, without a doubt, the cutest most well-behaved baby I've ever met. He consistently charms everyone around him and is a joy to be around. I know my genetic link to him must have some effect on my judgment, and any time I try to express his exemplary characteristics to those with children of their own I get a knowing, bemused, tolerant smile. Everyone thinks that of their own young ones. But I'm right. Uh huh, suuure, they think. "All the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average."
The fact that both of his parents are able to work at home must have something to do with his general demeanor. He has no want for attention or love and is never far from his god and goddess. I've never heard him cry for more than a minute or two at a time, yet his laughter and crooning baby songs echo strongly in my memory. Perhaps the best part of this trip to Mexico is the length of time I get to spend in his company.
The fact that my second-eldest brother, Kent, has a child now takes the pressure off of Scott and I in a couple of ways. There's no longer any doubt about our family continuing into the future (i won't say family name 'cos i'd feel the same were he a she, regardless of our culture's genetically backward naming policy) and Scott and I are able to give vent to our paternal instincts with a child that shares a significant percentage of our genes. Lacking a child of my own, a child of my brother is the next best thing.
And yet I cannot help but feel my own lack in some way exacerbated by seeing the pure delight that Ty is. I cannot help but wonder what a child of my own would be like, nor help but envy the love that my brother shares with his wife and son. Being surrounded by doting couples on vacation also throws into sharp relief my solitary state. As I cruise through my thirty-sixth year it feels as if my chances of finding that sort of fulfillment dwindle with each passing day. My standards remain (perhaps quixotically) high and all too often those who would otherwise make my heart sing contain some fatal flaw- an existing marriage or, more difficult to leave behind, a nicotine habit.
While I take advantage of my freedom to wander the world it would be disingenuous of me to deny the fact that I feel the pangs of loneliness and unfulfilled desire that is the cost of such freedom. Yet I cannot but admit that there exists hope, that thirty-six is the new twenty and that older men have fathered vast broods, but I recognize that hope as fleeting- a faint glimmer like the first star in the evening sky.
Faint it may be, I wish on that star still and, contrary to what any djinn might advise, I still find myself wishing for love.
I found this when checking YouTube for Schoolhouse Rock vids and pulled the audio off of it to put it on Church & State, one of this year's Faire mix CD's I'm in the habit of making. Everyone I hip to it flips, so I thought I'd hip you all.
Almost forgot a highlight of the Coba trip. In a lagoon bordering the ruins we saw a crocodile that was being fed by three young boys. While the croc sat not three meters away from them, they placed a cut-off clear two liter bottle in the water. A minute or two later, they'd retrieve it and reach in to pull out the little fish that'd gotten trapped in there. They'd toss them twitching onto the grass and use their slingshots to finish them off point-blank. Then they'd stick a fish onto the end of a stick and use that to feed the crocodile, who, with a menacing snap of the jaws, would pull the stick out of the boy's hand and chomp away on the fish.
I woke at 3am last Monday to herd my eldest brother & father into a car, through LAX and onto a plane which took us to Houston. There we rendezvoused with my other brother along with his wife and son and boarded a flight to Cozumel, Mexico.
We're staying at the Cozumel Palace, an all-inclusive resort where the restaurants, bars & a good many excursions are included in the nightly rate. While not quite as excessively opulent as the cruise we went on last year, it's still a bit more luxury than I'm accustomed to- or comfortable with. It is a step in the right direction, though, so maybe the next family vacation we take will be even closer to suiting my sensibilities. I'll push for Paris, next time, in a normal hotel. With cruises and resorts you end up surrounded by a lot of Yankee (my newly adopted adjectival form of U.S. since 'American' is insulting to the rest of the western hemisphere) Touristas. That's a plus to some. Not to me.
The weather is tropical, the water blue. There's a section of ocean right next to the hotel that's cordoned-off with a buoy line, and, while there's not a lot in the way of coral, there's a decent amount of sea-life and some cannons that made their way to the ocean floor from the deck of a pirate ship some 150 years ago. I've made a game of retrieving trash from the sea floor and have scored a dozen or so points for Ravenclaw.
Scott, my eldest brother that lives in SF & works at Amoeba, joined me Thursday on an excursion to the mainland where we visited one of the Mayan ruins in the area, Coba. The ferry ride over was enjoyable, the brief shopping-stop on the bus ride there was forgettable, and the ruins themselves awe-inspiring. The guide was quite informative, giving us an overview of the Mayan counting system and calendar, as well as an explanation of the sport they practiced, the courts of which still remain- decorated with skulls symbolizing the reincarnatory fate that awaited after the final point was scored.
The climax of the tour, though, was the temple-pyramid Nohoch Mul, 42m in height and the only Mayan pyramid that one is allowed to ascend. And ascend it we did. In the oppressive tropical heat, aided by a thick rope that had been fastened to the center of the steps, we scurried our way to the top- pausing twice to pant madly and catch our breath. At the top was a small enclosed room in which we took refuge from el Sol. Once we'd recovered somewhat, we emerged into the wind & glaring sunshine to gaze out over the jungle triumphant, trying to picture the city in its heyday, connected to other cities by hundreds of kilometers of raised, paved white roads.
Long ago children were sacrificed by pushing them down that long flight of stairs. Luckily for me, when I fell down them, I stumbled only few a few meters. Instead of a broken neck I came away with a mildly twisted ankle and a bruised thumbnail. You won't catch me complaining.
Going further back, on Tuesday there was a fire & drum show at the hotel. As they were setting up I ran back to the room to grab some rainbow glasses. I gave one pair to the fire troupe, one to the hotel's MC (who wore them all night and was even seen sporting them the next day) and another to our server for dinner, who later confided to me with a grin that it was his birthday. After the show I gave the troupe a few more pairs and some aurora rings. After asking where I might spin fire during my stay I was told that the Blue Parrot at 23:00 was the place to be. Going to try for that tonight.
This post is getting long enough, so I won't wax eloquent about my nephew, Ty, who's charming everyone. He, and the effect, both pleasant and poignant, he has on me, deserve a post all their own.
This is our first full light-up of the Burning Maypole project. The ribbons are two-inch kevlar wick, the fuel is bio-dielsel. My camera seems to have problems autofocusing here- sorry about that. We ran into a little trouble unwinding, but bear in mind this is the first or second time these people have done this and the first time lit.
This was meant to be a proof-of-concept video for the Los Angeles Fire Conclave choreography submission for the show at Burning Man this year, but was shot down by Crimson as she didn't want to set a precedent for any kinds of installation.
The project will be going forward as a part of Prometheatrics, the camp behind the Hypercube mirror-box bungee ride. Should we be on the Esplanade again this year, we'll likely set the Maypole up across the street for nightly dances.
Slashdot thread about the whole ‘if aliens could have found us they would have by now’ concept. A few bits particularly caught my eye involving relativity, time & fuel.
#* Re:More likely by Orange Crush (Score:2) Monday February 19, @01:54PM # Re:More likely (Score:5, Informative) by aditi (707829) on Monday February 19, @12:03PM (#18068484) "The speed of light is a real and unbreakable rule as a result nothing more than 4 or 5 light years away is reachable."
An insertion here about relativity: if the ship were traveling fast enough, you mightn't need several generations just for 4-5 years. Because of relativistic time dilation, the astronauts in the spaceship would feel considerably less time elapse, while the journey would seem to take decades to everyone on earth. The question then becomes whether people would be willing to spend trillions of dollars on something only their children and grandchildren would see. [ Reply to This | Parent ]
* Re:More likely (Score:5, Informative) by Maxo-Texas (864189) on Monday February 19, @12:14PM (#18068604) You are correct... some interesting comments here http://math.ucr.edu/home/baez/physics/Relativity/S R/rocket.html [ucr.edu] From the article, for 1g acceleration: Distance Location On Ship Time. 4.3 ly nearest star 3.6 years 27 ly Vega 6.6 years 30,000 ly Center of our galaxy 20 years 2,000,000 ly Andromeda galaxy 28 years [ Reply to This | Parent ] o Re:More likely (Score:5, Interesting) by rudy_wayne (414635) on Monday February 19, @01:20PM (#18069668) There's more to this problem than just the issue of time. What if intelligent life exists in another galaxy (We have now identified more than 100,000 other galaxies in the universe.)
According to the calculations in that article, using 1g acceleration someone from Andromeda (2 million light years) could reach us with only 28 years passing on board their ship. Sounds nice. Outside the ship, however, millions of years would have passed, which means that the visiting aliens would have had to leave their home planet before there was any human life on earth in order to arrive today.
Also, the fuel requirement, assuming 100% efficiency, is 4000 tons of fuel for every 1 kilogram of ship weight. And that's only if the visiting aliens want to go sailing past us. If they want to stop and visit, they have to start slowing down at the half-way point of the journey, which means:
1. They have to know exactly where they are going so that they know when to start slowing down. Coming from Andromeda, how would they even know that earth would be a desirable destination?
2. It greatly increases the fuel requirement -- 4 thousand million tons of fuel per kilogram of ship weight.
Diebold- the company that makes a good number of the electronic voting machines used in the last two elections, that have been hacked publicly, and which many think delivered Jr. his two terms- had (until quite recently) photos of their master keys on their site. This was enough info for copies to be made which will open ANY Diebold voting machine.
My favorite Digg comment: "I'm in your Diebolds, killing your democracy."
How stoked am I? I'm filling the Sony Reader my family got me for my birthday and Jesus' with all kinds of beauty- Twain, Thoreau, Stephenson, Asimov, Bradbury, Borges. The list goes on. Right now I'm downloading all the Hugos. Heh. I think I'll name it Alexandria.
I'm listening to an unabridged recording of Fahrenheit 451 and it's the first time I've been exposed to the text. I know, I know, I have a real knack for not reading things I've been commanded to read. I learned how to ask insightful and probing questions about books I never read based solely upon information already let drop by classmates. Remind me to tell you the story of the man who was too lazy to fail some day.
So I'm digging Bradbury and loving the net because I can pause it, look up the Alexander Pope essay that was just quoted, cross reference the Pierian reference on Wikipedia to a synopsis of the Satyricon written by Petronius about the misadventures of a young gay couple in ancient Rome. All in 180 seconds. Alexandria at our fingertips. Lovely.
from Essay on Criticism by Alexander Pope, 1688-1744
"A little learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again. Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts, In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, While from the bounded level of our mind, Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind; But more advanced, behold with strange surprise New distant scenes of endless science rise! So pleased at first, the towering Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky, Th' eternal snows appear already pass'd, And the first clouds and mountains seem the last: But those attain'd, we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way, Th' increasing prospect tires our wandering eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!"
This is a shot from 2005- one of my favorite pieces of all time, called The Machine. You could climb up to the second floor and look out across the playa. Around the base were a number of capstans where folk could turn gears that were hooked up to belts that reached over to the central tower and, very slowly, turned it. More than turned it- the installation was designed so that, as the top slowly went around, the arms would slowly close upwards. The folks on the top would cheer those down below. I don't recall how far it had gotten by the end of the week. This is one of those pieces that, since they didn't burn, I harbor a secret hope of seeing again on the playa.
How often at night where the heavens are bright With the light of the glittering stars Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed If their glory exceeds that of ours
If you saw this installation in action a long, slow sigh of wistful contentment is escaping your lips right now. My greed for photons resulted in this image being slightly misleading. More than just a bunch of bright violet ping-pong balls, this was a three dimensional display with each ball a pixel, and it cycled through a staggering variety of patterns and forms, from a fountain of rainbow, to an enormous spider, to a gentle blue snowfall. This was off our port bow across the Esplanade and it was a joy to behold. One unique aspect of the installation was that the audience was so hypnotized that a sudden bright change could pull spontaneous, simultaneous oohs, ahhs & laughter. Early on they cordoned off the outer edge, but when we first arrived you could walk into it and lay underneath.
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During the Burn there was a blinding white flash from a point on the second floor and what could only be a cascade of burning magnesium flowed down. A fireman beyond the no man's land line, encased in his reflective suit, turned around to face us, threw his hands into the air and shouted "It worked!"
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A few years back I shot a burn night photo that was overexposed in a particularly cool way. Here's my attempt to recapture it for 2006. We look like we have super powers. We do.
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technomadia's journal
satisfied
depressed
creative
curious
