added a backup of old pages that are no longer live

author: luxagraf <sng@luxagraf.net> 2023-07-28 13:43:36 -0500
committer: luxagraf <sng@luxagraf.net> 2023-07-28 13:43:36 -0500
commit: a30c790edea652494e7481f6798047a3bc1fd4ea (patch)
tree: b0936860abd6767716f56c68e305d8f5e0e38bd4 /bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03
parent: 9a620cf42bf1fe6977e378bd834b41ff4a593dde (diff)
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+<title>Another Spring</title>
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+    <meta property="og:description" content="This becomes a day like any other that is somehow different. Then another and another. Little things. The air feels brighter. The river is lower. Less practical footwear appears on feet around you. The mornings are crisp and the pollen hasn&#39;t started yet." />
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+<main class="h-entry">
+    <article class="h-entry hentry post--article" itemscope itemType="http://schema.org/Article">
+            <header id="header" class="post--header ">
+                <h1 class="p-name entry-title post--title" itemprop="headline">Another&nbsp;Spring</h1>
+                <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post--date" datetime="2016-03-20T02:08:26" itemprop="datePublished">March <span>20, 2016</span></time>
+            <p class="p-author author hide" itemprop="author"><span class="byline-author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></span></p>
+                <aside class="p-location h-adr adr post--location" itemprop="contentLocation" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Place">
+                    <span class="p-locality locality">Athens</span>, <a class="p-region region" href="/jrnl/united-states/" title="travel writing from the United States">Georgia</a>, <span class="p-country-name">U.S.</span>
+                </aside>
+            </header>
+        <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody">
+            <p>This becomes a day like any other that is somehow different. Then another and another. Little things. The air feels brighter. The river is lower. Less practical footwear appears on the feet around you.</p>
+<p>The mornings are crisp and the pollen hasn't started yet. The trees still bare though the smaller shrubs turn purple and white. Everything feels fragile but possible again. </p>
+<p><amp-img alt="Bumblebee on bright pink flowers photographed by luxagraf" height="624" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p>
+<p>It might not last. It's possible another snow storm is yet to come, but you have to cast your lot with some version of the future. </p>
+<p>And then the pollen does start. The world coalesces out of its dream state into great lime green clouds of oak and pecan pollen. A world of runny eyes and burning lungs. It's awful for a week to ten days. Then the catkins fall in great heaps that mat in the corners of the deck, choke the gutters and require a rake to get out of the yard.</p>
+<p>Then the clouds of pollen disappear and you know summer heat is only a week or two away. This is how it goes around here, year after year. It typically starts a bit before calendar spring. I'm not good with dates though. I'm not good with time actually. Unless I have a deadline. </p>
+<p>Human are the only ones with deadlines. Spring comes when it comes. </p>
+<p>There is the spring equinox. The plane of Earth's equator passes through the center of the Sun with admirable regularity. It might not mark spring precisely, but from here on out there's more light in the day than darkness. </p>
+<p>If you whip out your stopwatch you'll notice that the length of day and night aren't <em>exactly</em> the same, but then if you're the sort to whip out a stopwatch for holidays probably no one is going to invite your to their equinox party anyway. It's close enough. It's something to mark, somehow. </p>
+<p>One of the unfortunate side effects of not being religious or subscribing to any particular religion<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup> is that you have little to mark. Days and months slide by. Changes proceed largely without us or without our marking them in any way. Secularists don't have potlucks.</p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<amp-img alt="Child eating chicken at potluck lunch photographed by luxagraf" height="1081" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/potluckchicken_1320.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/potluckchicken_1320.jpg 1320w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/potluckchicken_680.jpg 680w" width="1320"></amp-img>
+<figcaption>Secular potlucks? Chicken!</figcaption>
+</figure>
+<p>One of the wonderful things about the internet though is that it makes communities possible that would otherwise not be possible. No church to attend every Sunday with the same people? No problem, start a Facebook group<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup>. Profit. Or at least potluck.</p>
+<p>Which is the world's longest intro to we went to an equinox party and easter egg hunt with a bunch of fellow secularists. And it was great. There was even old school climbing equipment of the sort children could take real risks on. I'd like to attribute that to the lack of religion present, but that would be stretching it. I think it was just some playground equipment that time forgot.</p>
+<p><amp-img alt="girl climbing up a steep ramp photographed by luxagraf" height="883" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_01_1320.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_01_1320.jpg 1320w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_01_680.jpg 680w" width="1320"></amp-img></p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<amp-img alt="two girls climbing steep ramp photographed by luxagraf" height="883" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_02_1320.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_02_1320.jpg 1320w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_02_680.jpg 680w" width="1320"></amp-img>
+<figcaption>If your twin sister climbs something, there's no way you aren't going to do the same.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+<p>There was an egg hunt as well, though my children are a bit young to get too into it. They are far more enthralled by the own anticipation of a thing than any thing itself. Actually maybe that's not something you grow out of, I think I'm the same way. The potluck was good. It had chicken. It marked a thing, a change, or the symbol of a change, that the weather sometimes aligns with, sometimes does not. But it lacked a certain gravitas.</p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="884" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_03_1320.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_03_1320.jpg 1320w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_03_680.jpg 680w" width="1320"></amp-img>
+<figcaption>A couple of sticks, some water, hours gone.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+<p>Not that spring has much gravitas. But there is a certain violence to change, even seasonal change, that seems like it's worth a pause, however brief, to reflect. The snow melts, the rain falls, it all goes somewhere. Water cuts through red Georgia mud. Trees are washed from banks. Rocks tumble down to sand, slow canyons carved a bit more every year as the silt and sand rolls down from the Appalachia to the sea. The mountains themselves are changing, getting smaller, their sides steeper. All this change destroys what came before. </p>
+<p>We like to paint spring as something that emerges out of winter, something that grows up from some blankness, and it does from one perspective, but we overlook that it destroys what came before. There is no change without destruction and decay. It's possible to recast that destruction in pretty words, but it is always destruction, especially from the point of view of what came before. It would be interesting to hear what the caterpillar thinks of the butterfly.</p>
+<p>I'm never going to get the collective solemnity of ceremony without religion though. I know that. That sort of gravity comes from larger groups of like minded people than I will ever find, even on Facebook. For now I'll settle for potlucks.</p>
+<div class="footnote">
+<hr/>
+<ol>
+<li id="fn:1">
+<p>The sun god religions obsess over rules, power and control when we all know potlucks are what matters. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn:2">
+<p>It'd be a whole lot cooler if Facebook wasn't the mediator of anyone's community, but for now that's where the people are so that's where the communities are. Just remember that the <a href="http://www.theregister.co.uk/2010/05/14/facebook_trust_dumb/">people behind Facebook</a> are true <a href="http://deoxy.org/wiki/The_Johnson_Family">Burroughsian shits</a> and act accordingly. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:2" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+        </div>
+        </article>
+</main>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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+            <header id="header" class="post-header ">
+                <h1 class="p-name entry-title post-title" itemprop="headline">Another Spring</h1>
+                
+                <div class="post-linewrapper">
+                <div class="p-location h-adr adr post-location" itemprop="contentLocation" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Place">
+                    <h3 class="h-adr" itemprop="address" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/PostalAddress"><span class="p-locality locality" itemprop="addressLocality">Athens</span>, <a class="p-region region" href="/jrnl/united-states/" title="travel writing from the United States">Georgia</a>, <span class="p-country-name" itemprop="addressCountry">U.S.</span></h3>
+                     &ndash;&nbsp;<a href="" onclick="showMap(33.88121959056056, -83.31667656250653, { type:'point', lat:'33.88121959056056', lon:'-83.31667656250653'}); return false;" title="see a map">Map</a>
+                </div>
+                <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-03-20T02:08:26" itemprop="datePublished">March <span>20, 2016</span></time>
+                <span class="hide" itemprop="author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person">by <a class="p-author h-card" href="/about"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></a></span>
+                </div>
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+        <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody">
+            <p>This becomes a day like any other that is somehow different. Then another and another. Little things. The air feels brighter. The river is lower. Less practical footwear appears on the feet around you.</p>
+<p>The mornings are crisp and the pollen hasn&#8217;t started yet. The trees still bare though the smaller shrubs turn purple and white. Everything feels fragile but possible again. </p>
+<div class="picwide">
+        <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134.jpg " title="view larger image">
+            <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134_pic5.jpg 648w" alt="Bumblebee on bright pink flowers photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" >
+        </a>
+</div>
+
+<p>It might not last. It&#8217;s possible another snow storm is yet to come, but you have to cast your lot with some version of the future. </p>
+<p>And then the pollen does start. The world coalesces out of its dream state into great lime green clouds of oak and pecan pollen. A world of runny eyes and burning lungs. It&#8217;s awful for a week to ten days. Then the catkins fall in great heaps that mat in the corners of the deck, choke the gutters and require a rake to get out of the yard.</p>
+<p>Then the clouds of pollen disappear and you know summer heat is only a week or two away. This is how it goes around here, year after year. It typically starts a bit before calendar spring. I&#8217;m not good with dates though. I&#8217;m not good with time actually. Unless I have a deadline. </p>
+<p>Human are the only ones with deadlines. Spring comes when it comes. </p>
+<p>There is the spring equinox. The plane of Earth&#8217;s equator passes through the center of the Sun with admirable regularity. It might not mark spring precisely, but from here on out there&#8217;s more light in the day than darkness. </p>
+<p>If you whip out your stopwatch you&#8217;ll notice that the length of day and night aren&#8217;t <em>exactly</em> the same, but then if you&#8217;re the sort to whip out a stopwatch for holidays probably no one is going to invite your to their equinox party anyway. It&#8217;s close enough. It&#8217;s something to mark, somehow. </p>
+<p>One of the unfortunate side effects of not being religious or subscribing to any particular religion<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup> is that you have little to mark. Days and months slide by. Changes proceed largely without us or without our marking them in any way. Secularists don&#8217;t have potlucks.</p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+        <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/potluckchicken.jpg " title="view larger image">
+            <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/potluckchicken_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/potluckchicken_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="Child eating chicken at potluck lunch photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/potluckchicken.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Secular potlucks? Chicken!">
+        </a>
+<figcaption>Secular potlucks? Chicken!</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>One of the wonderful things about the internet though is that it makes communities possible that would otherwise not be possible. No church to attend every Sunday with the same people? No problem, start a Facebook group<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup>. Profit. Or at least potluck.</p>
+<p>Which is the world&#8217;s longest intro to we went to an equinox party and easter egg hunt with a bunch of fellow secularists. And it was great. There was even old school climbing equipment of the sort children could take real risks on. I&#8217;d like to attribute that to the lack of religion present, but that would be stretching it. I think it was just some playground equipment that time forgot.</p>
+<div class="picfull">
+        <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/equinox-party_01.jpg " title="view larger image">
+            <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_01_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_01_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="girl climbing up a steep ramp photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/equinox-party_01.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" >
+        </a>
+</div>
+
+<figure class="picfull">
+        <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/equinox-party_02.jpg " title="view larger image">
+            <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_02_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_02_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="two girls climbing steep ramp photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/equinox-party_02.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="If your twin sister climbs something, there&#39;s no way you aren&#39;t going to do the same.">
+        </a>
+<figcaption>If your twin sister climbs something, there&#8217;s no way you aren&#8217;t going to do the same.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>There was an egg hunt as well, though my children are a bit young to get too into it. They are far more enthralled by the own anticipation of a thing than any thing itself. Actually maybe that&#8217;s not something you grow out of, I think I&#8217;m the same way. The potluck was good. It had chicken. It marked a thing, a change, or the symbol of a change, that the weather sometimes aligns with, sometimes does not. But it lacked a certain gravitas.</p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+        <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/equinox-party_03.jpg " title="view larger image">
+            <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_03_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/equinox-party_03_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/equinox-party_03.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="A couple of sticks, some water, hours gone.">
+        </a>
+<figcaption>A couple of sticks, some water, hours gone.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Not that spring has much gravitas. But there is a certain violence to change, even seasonal change, that seems like it&#8217;s worth a pause, however brief, to reflect. The snow melts, the rain falls, it all goes somewhere. Water cuts through red Georgia mud. Trees are washed from banks. Rocks tumble down to sand, slow canyons carved a bit more every year as the silt and sand rolls down from the Appalachia to the sea. The mountains themselves are changing, getting smaller, their sides steeper. All this change destroys what came before. </p>
+<p>We like to paint spring as something that emerges out of winter, something that grows up from some blankness, and it does from one perspective, but we overlook that it destroys what came before. There is no change without destruction and decay. It&#8217;s possible to recast that destruction in pretty words, but it is always destruction, especially from the point of view of what came before. It would be interesting to hear what the caterpillar thinks of the butterfly.</p>
+<p>I&#8217;m never going to get the collective solemnity of ceremony without religion though. I know that. That sort of gravity comes from larger groups of like minded people than I will ever find, even on Facebook. For now I&#8217;ll settle for potlucks.</p>
+<div class="footnote">
+<hr>
+<ol>
+<li id="fn:1">
+<p>The sun god religions obsess over rules, power and control when we all know potlucks are what matters.&#160;<a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">&#8617;</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn:2">
+<p>It&#8217;d be a whole lot cooler if Facebook wasn&#8217;t the mediator of anyone&#8217;s community, but for now that&#8217;s where the people are so that&#8217;s where the communities are. Just remember that the <a href="http://www.theregister.co.uk/2010/05/14/facebook_trust_dumb/">people behind Facebook</a> are true <a href="http://deoxy.org/wiki/The_Johnson_Family">Burroughsian shits</a> and act accordingly.&#160;<a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:2" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">&#8617;</a></p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+        </div>
+        <div class="entry-footer">
+            <aside id="wildlife">
+                <h3>Fauna and Flora</h3>
+                
+                <ul>
+                
+                <li class="grouper">Birds<ul>
+                
+                <li>American Robin </li>
+                
+                <li>Blue Jay </li>
+                
+                <li>Brown-headed Cowbird </li>
+                
+                <li><a href="/dialogues/brown-thrasher">Brown Thrasher</a> </li>
+                
+                <li>Canada Goose </li>
+                
+                <li>Carolina Chickadee </li>
+                
+                <li>Chipping Sparrow </li>
+                
+                <li>Downy Woodpecker </li>
+                
+                <li>Eastern Bluebird </li>
+                
+                <li>Eastern Towhee </li>
+                
+                <li>Gray Catbird </li>
+                
+                <li>Great Blue Heron </li>
+                
+                <li>Hooded Warbler </li>
+                
+                <li><a href="/dialogues/northern-cardinal">Northern Cardinal</a> </li>
+                
+                <li><a href="/dialogues/northern-mockingbird">Northern Mockingbird</a> </li>
+                
+                <li>Red-bellied Woodpecker </li>
+                
+                <li><a href="/dialogues/summer-tanager">Summer Tanager</a> </li>
+                
+                <li>Tufted Titmouse </li>
+                
+                <li>Wood Duck </li>
+                
+                <li>Yellow-rumped Warbler </li>
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diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/another-spring.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/another-spring.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28531de
--- /dev/null
+++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/another-spring.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,50 @@
+Another Spring
+==============
+
+    by Scott Gilbertson
+    </jrnl/2016/03/another-spring>
+    Sunday, 20 March 2016
+
+This becomes a day like any other that is somehow different. Then another and another. Little things. The air feels brighter. The river is lower. Less practical footwear appears on the feet around you.
+
+The mornings are crisp and the pollen hasn't started yet. The trees still bare though the smaller shrubs turn purple and white. Everything feels fragile but possible again. 
+
+<img src="images/2017/bees-garden_2015-04-01_140134.jpg" id="image-86" class="picwide" />
+
+It might not last. It's possible another snow storm is yet to come, but you have to cast your lot with some version of the future. 
+
+And then the pollen does start. The world coalesces out of its dream state into great lime green clouds of oak and pecan pollen. A world of runny eyes and burning lungs. It's awful for a week to ten days. Then the catkins fall in great heaps that mat in the corners of the deck, choke the gutters and require a rake to get out of the yard.
+
+Then the clouds of pollen disappear and you know summer heat is only a week or two away. This is how it goes around here, year after year. It typically starts a bit before calendar spring. I'm not good with dates though. I'm not good with time actually. Unless I have a deadline. 
+
+Human are the only ones with deadlines. Spring comes when it comes. 
+
+There is the spring equinox. The plane of Earth's equator passes through the center of the Sun with admirable regularity. It might not mark spring precisely, but from here on out there's more light in the day than darkness. 
+
+If you whip out your stopwatch you'll notice that the length of day and night aren't *exactly* the same, but then if you're the sort to whip out a stopwatch for holidays probably no one is going to invite your to their equinox party anyway. It's close enough. It's something to mark, somehow. 
+
+One of the unfortunate side effects of not being religious or subscribing to any particular religion[^1] is that you have little to mark. Days and months slide by. Changes proceed largely without us or without our marking them in any way. Secularists don't have potlucks.
+
+<img src="images/2016/potluckchicken.jpg" id="image-87" class="picfull caption" />
+
+One of the wonderful things about the internet though is that it makes communities possible that would otherwise not be possible. No church to attend every Sunday with the same people? No problem, start a Facebook group[^2]. Profit. Or at least potluck.
+
+Which is the world's longest intro to we went to an equinox party and easter egg hunt with a bunch of fellow secularists. And it was great. There was even old school climbing equipment of the sort children could take real risks on. I'd like to attribute that to the lack of religion present, but that would be stretching it. I think it was just some playground equipment that time forgot.
+
+<img src="images/2016/equinox-party_01.jpg" id="image-88" class="picfull" />
+
+<img src="images/2016/equinox-party_02.jpg" id="image-89" class="picfull caption" />
+
+There was an egg hunt as well, though my children are a bit young to get too into it. They are far more enthralled by the own anticipation of a thing than any thing itself. Actually maybe that's not something you grow out of, I think I'm the same way. The potluck was good. It had chicken. It marked a thing, a change, or the symbol of a change, that the weather sometimes aligns with, sometimes does not. But it lacked a certain gravitas.
+
+<img src="images/2016/equinox-party_03.jpg" id="image-90" class="picfull caption" />
+
+Not that spring has much gravitas. But there is a certain violence to change, even seasonal change, that seems like it's worth a pause, however brief, to reflect. The snow melts, the rain falls, it all goes somewhere. Water cuts through red Georgia mud. Trees are washed from banks. Rocks tumble down to sand, slow canyons carved a bit more every year as the silt and sand rolls down from the Appalachia to the sea. The mountains themselves are changing, getting smaller, their sides steeper. All this change destroys what came before. 
+
+We like to paint spring as something that emerges out of winter, something that grows up from some blankness, and it does from one perspective, but we overlook that it destroys what came before. There is no change without destruction and decay. It's possible to recast that destruction in pretty words, but it is always destruction, especially from the point of view of what came before. It would be interesting to hear what the caterpillar thinks of the butterfly.
+
+I'm never going to get the collective solemnity of ceremony without religion though. I know that. That sort of gravity comes from larger groups of like minded people than I will ever find, even on Facebook. For now I'll settle for potlucks.
+
+[^1]: The sun god religions obsess over rules, power and control when we all know potlucks are what matters.
+
+[^2]: It'd be a whole lot cooler if Facebook wasn't the mediator of anyone's community, but for now that's where the people are so that's where the communities are. Just remember that the [people behind Facebook](http://www.theregister.co.uk/2010/05/14/facebook_trust_dumb/) are true [Burroughsian shits](http://deoxy.org/wiki/The_Johnson_Family) and act accordingly.
diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/index.html
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..476a07d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/index.html
@@ -0,0 +1,107 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html>
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+        <li>March</li>
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+    <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive">
+    <h1> Archive: March 2016</h1>
+    <ul class="date-archive">
+        <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/03/another-spring" title="Another Spring">Another&nbsp;Spring</a> 
+            <time datetime="2016-03-20T02:08:26-04:00">Mar 20, 2016</time>
+        </li> 
+        <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/03/up-in-the-air" title="Up in the Air">Up in the&nbsp;Air</a> 
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+                <h1 class="p-name entry-title post--title" itemprop="headline">Up in the&nbsp;Air</h1>
+                <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post--date" datetime="2016-03-08T15:44:28" itemprop="datePublished">March <span>8, 2016</span></time>
+            <p class="p-author author hide" itemprop="author"><span class="byline-author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></span></p>
+                <aside class="p-location h-adr adr post--location" itemprop="contentLocation" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Place">
+                    <span class="p-locality locality">Athens</span>, <a class="p-region region" href="/jrnl/united-states/" title="travel writing from the United States">Georgia</a>, <span class="p-country-name">U.S.</span>
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+            <p>I tore the rear air conditioning unit off the back of the bus today. It <a href="/jrnl/2015/09/progress">joins the front unit</a> in the growing pile of bus trash at the side of our house.</p>
+<p><amp-img alt="The big Blue bus sans air conditioner roof wart" height="649" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/no-air-con-01.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/no-air-con-01-720.jpg 720w,
+            https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/no-air-con-01.jpg 1140w,
+            https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/no-air-con-01-2280.jpg 2280w" width="1140"></amp-img></p>
+<p>Afterward I stood back and looked at the Travco. All the clean lines and curves joined together again, no more air conditioning warts to interrupt the sliding smooth and unbroken swoop of white and blue. The big blue bus looked sleek and whole again.</p>
+<p>I'll admit it gave me no small measure of satisfaction, thinking that perhaps, amidst the exponentially increasing insanity, I'd made some tiny thing right in the world. It was that same sort joy that comes from eating really dark chocolate. The aesthetic perfection of hundred percent dark chocolate. </p>
+<p>I didn't really get a chance to savor this feeling because the universe hates smugness and soon after I had another thought, hmm, maybe I should check and see if it's going to rain any time soon... Oh, well, yes it is. For three days straight. Starting tomorrow. And I just opened a fourteen inch square hole in the roof of the bus. Genius.</p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<amp-img alt="" height="396" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/hole.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/hole.jpg 680w,
+            https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/hole-2x.jpg 1360w," width="680"></amp-img>
+<figcaption>The abyss stares back. Wait, did you say rain?</figcaption>
+</figure>
+<p>I got a trash bag, some painter's tape, some duct tape, a dictionary of German swear words, and got to work. </p>
+<p>I had some time up there on the roof of the bus to reflect on what I had done. More or less an incredibly impractical thing. In the service of what I think is my offbeat, but at times deeply felt sense of aesthetics, I had ripped out two at least partly functioning air conditioners. </p>
+<p>Actually I should probably look up aesthetics in the dictionary and make sure that's what I'm acting in the service of. Or I should read Kant. But then it all gets very technical and is predicated on the belief that there is an absolute sense of "good" and "bad" to beauty and I don't know if it matters that much. Maybe dark chocolate metaphors are good enough. If the dark chocolate is good enough. Screw Kant.</p>
+<p>Somewhere in a tangle of duct tape and torn plastic trash bags, I got to wondering what Kant would have made of a 1969 Travco. The engine would be new and presumably mind blowing, but Kant was probably familiar with Gypsies at least. The mobile home concept would be familiar. Probably frowned on, but familiar. But what would he make of tearing out an object of convenience and comfort because I think aesthetic integrity and beauty trump personal comfort? </p>
+<p>I decided there was a high probability he would think I was an idiot to forego the comfort of air conditioning, which, from his point of view, would be like magic. The problem is I've never been able to get through more than a few pages of <cite>Critique of Judgment</cite> without being overcome with a desire to reach back through time and give the man a hug<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup> and say, relax, it's all going to be okay. </p>
+<p>Aesthetics have always seemed pretty simple to me. There is stuff in the world that makes you feel delight. So when you discover this beauty and delight in the world around you, you embrace it and do what you can in service of it<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup>. Like removing ugly air conditioners.</p>
+<p>The designers of the Travco, to my mind, felt the same way, though they were doubtless bound by certain economic and marketplace constraints I don't have. Hence, warts on the roof if you must. But no one who's of a purely practical bent would ever have designed the large front sliding windows the way they are designed. They're wildly impractical, worse, they leak. But there they are. Pure aesthetics. They look like the person who designed them had discovered delight in their beauty. Little water coming in? Get a towel.</p>
+<p><amp-img alt="1969 Dodge Travco main window" height="341" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/window.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/window.jpg 680w,
+            https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/window-2x.jpg 1360w," width="680"></amp-img></p>
+<p>The marketplace does not value aesthetics though. The wonderful sweeping curves of the Travco's windows leaked badly enough that at some point (early '70s) the idea was abandoned altogether. </p>
+<p>Aesthetics are a learning experience, a feedback loop of sorts, though the experience is better when it creates change in other direction -- adding <em>in</em> wildly impractical, but aesthetically delightful, sliding windows as it were. </p>
+<p>Consider dark chocolate. I'd never really had any until I started dating my wife. I thought chocolate was something that skins a cheap candy bar full of nougat and indecipherable ingredients. The first time my wife gave me a bit of real chocolate was revelatory. The possibilities of life expanded, I had discovered more joy and beauty. Aesthetic progress you might say.</p>
+<p>Aesthetics are a life long process, always in flux, that's part of what drives us all to want to know what's around the next corner, over the next hill. As naturalist and herbalist Juliette de Bairacli Levy writes, "I believe that this endless search for beauty in surroundings, in people and one's personal life, is the headstone of travel."</p>
+<p>My own aesthetics are like yours I imagine, complicated and often contradictory, nothing so firmly delineated as to please Kant. But one thing I have figured out is that comfort is transitory and moreover, relative. Aesthetics are neither<sup id="fnref:3"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:3" rel="footnote">3</a></sup>. </p>
+<p>Which is to say, removing the air conditioner might mean that I end up hot, sweating and unable to sleep, but this too, as they say, shall pass. I won't <em>always</em> be hot sweaty and unable to sleep. I will always have to look at the air conditioning wart that used to be on top of the bus. Comfort must be chased; beauty exists.</p>
+<p>This is what I kept telling myself the next morning as I mopped up the floor where all the water had come pouring in after my duct tape and trash bag covering collapsed under the weight of accumulated rain water. Comfort is relative. Beauty just is. </p>
+<p>For those of us from the relative north, one of the stranger sights in the tropics is the way everyone grabs a jacket the minute the temperature drops below 80 degrees. Even though I have been on the other side of it; living through a succession of New England winters with less and less pain each time. Still, I'll never forget the first night I spent in Goa. The sun went down, the temperature dropped to about 80 and the jackets came out. One person's balmy evening is another person's winter.</p>
+<p>By the time I got to <a href="/jrnl/2006/03/angkor-wat">Seam Reap</a> several months later I thought I had adjusted a bit. I had not. It was hot, hotter than anything I have experienced before or since. Hotter than <a href="/jrnl/2010/04/death-valley">Death Valley</a>. I was traveling with Matt and Debi at the time and somehow we convinced ourselves that we didn't need air conditioning. To be honest I think it was Matt that convinced Debi and I. But he was right.</p>
+<p>During the day we spent our time outside exploring Angkor Wat in the heat of the day, when the rest of the tourists were passing the time in air conditioned cafés). We went out in the heat of the day precisely because it was hot, because hardly any other tourists did. We had Angkor Wat to ourselves. </p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<amp-img alt="Angkor Wat, Cambodia without the people" height="425" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/angkor-wat-sans-people.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/angkor-wat-sans-people.jpg 680w,
+            https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/angkor-wat-sans-people-2x.jpg 1360w," width="680"></amp-img>
+<figcaption>Angkor Wat without the people.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+<p>We could have returned home to a nice air conditioned room. But if you do that you never adapt. Our bodies are fantastically adaptable machines over the long run. You get used to the heat. This never happens if you retreat to air conditioning at every opportunity. </p>
+<p>At night we would crank the ceiling fan to 11 and then, one after the other, take the coldest shower we could get, which was just below scalding because the water tank was in the sun all day, and then dive in our respective beds in hopes that we'd would fall asleep before the real sweating started. </p>
+<p>What does this slightly masochistic experiment have to do with aesthetics? Nothing directly, but I came away with from that experience knowing that comfort is relative, both psychologically and physiologically. Seam Reap set my relative quite a few notches above where it had been previously and ever since then I have never really been hot. Sure, it gets moderately unpleasant to be out working in the heat of the day in the Georgia summer, but every time I catch myself about to complain I think, well, at least it's not as hot as Seam Reap. </p>
+<p>If you're going to be spending a lot of time in the heat it makes more sense to push through a bit of discomfort until you start to adapt to it than it does to hide out in air conditioning all the time. Eventually, after a few years I suspect, you'll be pulling out the jacket when the thermometer dips below 80.</p>
+<p>Adaptation may well be our greatest talent as a species. Air conditioning undercuts that.</p>
+<p>So in the end it makes more sense to tear out aesthetically unpleasant air conditioning units than it does to keep them. Comfort is relative and transitory, aesthetics are not.</p>
+<p>That said, up until now I've been making it sound like a binary choice -- air conditioning wart atop the bus or nothing. I am not the only one living in the Travco. And the one thing I put higher than aesthetics is never impose your will on someone else. Plus, I do like to have my dark chocolate and eat it too. </p>
+<p>I would never subject my kids to Seam Reap without air conditioning. Not at their age anyway. Children are physiologically different, their bodies aren't as good at cooling themselves as adults are. </p>
+<p>That's why I took the now useless 110V wire from the roof air conditioner, extended it with some new wire and rerouted it behind the closet and down to where the refrigerator used to be, where there is now plenty of room for a window air unit, which will serve as our new air conditioner and heater. </p>
+<p>I can hear Kant breathing a sigh of relief. The magic is there if we need it. The beauty is there as well. Granted, I ripped out the generator, which means we'll never be able to run the air for long, but we should be able to run it enough to cool things off in the evening before bed (and we can run it as much as we like if there's shore power around).</p>
+<p>If it does get so hot that no one in my family is happy, or god forbid, our dark chocolate starts to melt, we'll do what people with movable homes have done for millennia -- go somewhere else. </p>
+<div class="footnote">
+<hr/>
+<ol>
+<li id="fn:1">
+<p>And Schopenhauer, that man really needed a hug. Actually most white male philosophers in European history seem like they would have benefited from more hugs. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn:2">
+<p>If you don't embrace your own aesthetics, capitalism is always there to provide simpler, numeric terms by which to define value. Choose wisely. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:2" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn:3">
+<p>There is of course fleeting beauty, e.g. sunsets. The shortness of some beautiful natural phenomena do not, however, affect our judgment of them as beautiful. It just means we only have a limited amount of time to enjoy them. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:3" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 3 in the text">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+        </div>
+        </article>
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+  "description": "I tore the rear air unit off the back of the bus today. All the clean lines and curves joined together again, no more air conditioning warts to interrupt the sliding smooth and unbroken swoop of white and blue. The big blue bus looked sleek and whole again"
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+                <h1 class="p-name entry-title post-title" itemprop="headline">Up in the Air</h1>
+                
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+                    <h3 class="h-adr" itemprop="address" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/PostalAddress"><span class="p-locality locality" itemprop="addressLocality">Athens</span>, <a class="p-region region" href="/jrnl/united-states/" title="travel writing from the United States">Georgia</a>, <span class="p-country-name" itemprop="addressCountry">U.S.</span></h3>
+                     &ndash;&nbsp;<a href="" onclick="showMap(33.95794580601253, -83.40819353408179, { type:'point', lat:'33.95794580601253', lon:'-83.40819353408179'}); return false;" title="see a map">Map</a>
+                </div>
+                <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-03-08T15:44:28" itemprop="datePublished">March <span>8, 2016</span></time>
+                <span class="hide" itemprop="author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person">by <a class="p-author h-card" href="/about"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></a></span>
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+        <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody">
+            <p>I tore the rear air conditioning unit off the back of the bus today. It <a href="/jrnl/2015/09/progress">joins the front unit</a> in the growing pile of bus trash at the side of our house.</p>
+<p><img class="picwide" sizes="(max-width: 1140px) 100vw, (min-width: 1141px) 1140px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01-720.jpg 720w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01.jpg 1140w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01-2280.jpg 2280w"
+       src="[[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01.jpg" alt="The big Blue bus sans air conditioner roof wart"></p>
+<p>Afterward I stood back and looked at the Travco. All the clean lines and curves joined together again, no more air conditioning warts to interrupt the sliding smooth and unbroken swoop of white and blue. The big blue bus looked sleek and whole again.</p>
+<p>I&#8217;ll admit it gave me no small measure of satisfaction, thinking that perhaps, amidst the exponentially increasing insanity, I&#8217;d made some tiny thing right in the world. It was that same sort joy that comes from eating really dark chocolate. The aesthetic perfection of hundred percent dark chocolate. </p>
+<p>I didn&#8217;t really get a chance to savor this feeling because the universe hates smugness and soon after I had another thought, hmm, maybe I should check and see if it&#8217;s going to rain any time soon&#8230; Oh, well, yes it is. For three days straight. Starting tomorrow. And I just opened a fourteen inch square hole in the roof of the bus. Genius.</p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<img class="picfull" sizes="(max-width: 680px) 100vw, (min-width: 681) 680px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/hole.jpg 680w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/hole-2x.jpg 1360w,"
+    src="[[base_url]]2016/hole.jpg" alt="">
+<figcaption>The abyss stares back. Wait, did you say rain?</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>I got a trash bag, some painter&#8217;s tape, some duct tape, a dictionary of German swear words, and got to work. </p>
+<p>I had some time up there on the roof of the bus to reflect on what I had done. More or less an incredibly impractical thing. In the service of what I think is my offbeat, but at times deeply felt sense of aesthetics, I had ripped out two at least partly functioning air conditioners. </p>
+<p>Actually I should probably look up aesthetics in the dictionary and make sure that&#8217;s what I&#8217;m acting in the service of. Or I should read Kant. But then it all gets very technical and is predicated on the belief that there is an absolute sense of &#8220;good&#8221; and &#8220;bad&#8221; to beauty and I don&#8217;t know if it matters that much. Maybe dark chocolate metaphors are good enough. If the dark chocolate is good enough. Screw Kant.</p>
+<p>Somewhere in a tangle of duct tape and torn plastic trash bags, I got to wondering what Kant would have made of a 1969 Travco. The engine would be new and presumably mind blowing, but Kant was probably familiar with Gypsies at least. The mobile home concept would be familiar. Probably frowned on, but familiar. But what would he make of tearing out an object of convenience and comfort because I think aesthetic integrity and beauty trump personal comfort? </p>
+<p>I decided there was a high probability he would think I was an idiot to forego the comfort of air conditioning, which, from his point of view, would be like magic. The problem is I&#8217;ve never been able to get through more than a few pages of <cite>Critique of Judgment</cite> without being overcome with a desire to reach back through time and give the man a hug<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup> and say, relax, it&#8217;s all going to be okay. </p>
+<p>Aesthetics have always seemed pretty simple to me. There is stuff in the world that makes you feel delight. So when you discover this beauty and delight in the world around you, you embrace it and do what you can in service of it<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup>. Like removing ugly air conditioners.</p>
+<p>The designers of the Travco, to my mind, felt the same way, though they were doubtless bound by certain economic and marketplace constraints I don&#8217;t have. Hence, warts on the roof if you must. But no one who&#8217;s of a purely practical bent would ever have designed the large front sliding windows the way they are designed. They&#8217;re wildly impractical, worse, they leak. But there they are. Pure aesthetics. They look like the person who designed them had discovered delight in their beauty. Little water coming in? Get a towel.</p>
+<p><img class="picfull" sizes="(max-width: 680px) 100vw, (min-width: 681) 680px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/window.jpg 680w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/window-2x.jpg 1360w,"
+    src="[[base_url]]2016/window.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco main window"></p>
+<p>The marketplace does not value aesthetics though. The wonderful sweeping curves of the Travco&#8217;s windows leaked badly enough that at some point (early &#8216;70s) the idea was abandoned altogether. </p>
+<p>Aesthetics are a learning experience, a feedback loop of sorts, though the experience is better when it creates change in other direction &#8212; adding <em>in</em> wildly impractical, but aesthetically delightful, sliding windows as it were. </p>
+<p>Consider dark chocolate. I&#8217;d never really had any until I started dating my wife. I thought chocolate was something that skins a cheap candy bar full of nougat and indecipherable ingredients. The first time my wife gave me a bit of real chocolate was revelatory. The possibilities of life expanded, I had discovered more joy and beauty. Aesthetic progress you might say.</p>
+<p>Aesthetics are a life long process, always in flux, that&#8217;s part of what drives us all to want to know what&#8217;s around the next corner, over the next hill. As naturalist and herbalist Juliette de Bairacli Levy writes, &#8220;I believe that this endless search for beauty in surroundings, in people and one&#8217;s personal life, is the headstone of travel.&#8221;</p>
+<p>My own aesthetics are like yours I imagine, complicated and often contradictory, nothing so firmly delineated as to please Kant. But one thing I have figured out is that comfort is transitory and moreover, relative. Aesthetics are neither<sup id="fnref:3"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:3" rel="footnote">3</a></sup>. </p>
+<p>Which is to say, removing the air conditioner might mean that I end up hot, sweating and unable to sleep, but this too, as they say, shall pass. I won&#8217;t <em>always</em> be hot sweaty and unable to sleep. I will always have to look at the air conditioning wart that used to be on top of the bus. Comfort must be chased; beauty exists.</p>
+<p>This is what I kept telling myself the next morning as I mopped up the floor where all the water had come pouring in after my duct tape and trash bag covering collapsed under the weight of accumulated rain water. Comfort is relative. Beauty just is. </p>
+<p>For those of us from the relative north, one of the stranger sights in the tropics is the way everyone grabs a jacket the minute the temperature drops below 80 degrees. Even though I have been on the other side of it; living through a succession of New England winters with less and less pain each time. Still, I&#8217;ll never forget the first night I spent in Goa. The sun went down, the temperature dropped to about 80 and the jackets came out. One person&#8217;s balmy evening is another person&#8217;s winter.</p>
+<p>By the time I got to <a href="/jrnl/2006/03/angkor-wat">Seam Reap</a> several months later I thought I had adjusted a bit. I had not. It was hot, hotter than anything I have experienced before or since. Hotter than <a href="/jrnl/2010/04/death-valley">Death Valley</a>. I was traveling with Matt and Debi at the time and somehow we convinced ourselves that we didn&#8217;t need air conditioning. To be honest I think it was Matt that convinced Debi and I. But he was right.</p>
+<p>During the day we spent our time outside exploring Angkor Wat in the heat of the day, when the rest of the tourists were passing the time in air conditioned cafés). We went out in the heat of the day precisely because it was hot, because hardly any other tourists did. We had Angkor Wat to ourselves. </p>
+<figure class="picfull">
+<img class="picfull" sizes="(max-width: 680px) 100vw, (min-width: 681) 680px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/angkor-wat-sans-people.jpg 680w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/angkor-wat-sans-people-2x.jpg 1360w,"
+    src="[[base_url]]2016/angkor-wat-sans-people.jpg" alt="Angkor Wat, Cambodia without the people">
+<figcaption>Angkor Wat without the people.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>We could have returned home to a nice air conditioned room. But if you do that you never adapt. Our bodies are fantastically adaptable machines over the long run. You get used to the heat. This never happens if you retreat to air conditioning at every opportunity. </p>
+<p>At night we would crank the ceiling fan to 11 and then, one after the other, take the coldest shower we could get, which was just below scalding because the water tank was in the sun all day, and then dive in our respective beds in hopes that we&#8217;d would fall asleep before the real sweating started. </p>
+<p>What does this slightly masochistic experiment have to do with aesthetics? Nothing directly, but I came away with from that experience knowing that comfort is relative, both psychologically and physiologically. Seam Reap set my relative quite a few notches above where it had been previously and ever since then I have never really been hot. Sure, it gets moderately unpleasant to be out working in the heat of the day in the Georgia summer, but every time I catch myself about to complain I think, well, at least it&#8217;s not as hot as Seam Reap. </p>
+<p>If you&#8217;re going to be spending a lot of time in the heat it makes more sense to push through a bit of discomfort until you start to adapt to it than it does to hide out in air conditioning all the time. Eventually, after a few years I suspect, you&#8217;ll be pulling out the jacket when the thermometer dips below 80.</p>
+<p>Adaptation may well be our greatest talent as a species. Air conditioning undercuts that.</p>
+<p>So in the end it makes more sense to tear out aesthetically unpleasant air conditioning units than it does to keep them. Comfort is relative and transitory, aesthetics are not.</p>
+<p>That said, up until now I&#8217;ve been making it sound like a binary choice &#8212; air conditioning wart atop the bus or nothing. I am not the only one living in the Travco. And the one thing I put higher than aesthetics is never impose your will on someone else. Plus, I do like to have my dark chocolate and eat it too. </p>
+<p>I would never subject my kids to Seam Reap without air conditioning. Not at their age anyway. Children are physiologically different, their bodies aren&#8217;t as good at cooling themselves as adults are. </p>
+<p>That&#8217;s why I took the now useless 110V wire from the roof air conditioner, extended it with some new wire and rerouted it behind the closet and down to where the refrigerator used to be, where there is now plenty of room for a window air unit, which will serve as our new air conditioner and heater. </p>
+<p>I can hear Kant breathing a sigh of relief. The magic is there if we need it. The beauty is there as well. Granted, I ripped out the generator, which means we&#8217;ll never be able to run the air for long, but we should be able to run it enough to cool things off in the evening before bed (and we can run it as much as we like if there&#8217;s shore power around).</p>
+<p>If it does get so hot that no one in my family is happy, or god forbid, our dark chocolate starts to melt, we&#8217;ll do what people with movable homes have done for millennia &#8212; go somewhere else. </p>
+<div class="footnote">
+<hr>
+<ol>
+<li id="fn:1">
+<p>And Schopenhauer, that man really needed a hug. Actually most white male philosophers in European history seem like they would have benefited from more hugs.&#160;<a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">&#8617;</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn:2">
+<p>If you don&#8217;t embrace your own aesthetics, capitalism is always there to provide simpler, numeric terms by which to define value. Choose wisely.&#160;<a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:2" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">&#8617;</a></p>
+</li>
+<li id="fn:3">
+<p>There is of course fleeting beauty, e.g. sunsets. The shortness of some beautiful natural phenomena do not, however, affect our judgment of them as beautiful. It just means we only have a limited amount of time to enjoy them.&#160;<a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:3" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 3 in the text">&#8617;</a></p>
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diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/up-in-the-air.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/up-in-the-air.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..552d440
--- /dev/null
+++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/up-in-the-air.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,102 @@
+Up in the Air
+=============
+
+    by Scott Gilbertson
+    </jrnl/2016/03/up-in-the-air>
+    Tuesday, 08 March 2016
+
+I tore the rear air conditioning unit off the back of the bus today. It [joins the front unit](/jrnl/2015/09/progress) in the growing pile of bus trash at the side of our house.
+
+<img class="picwide" sizes="(max-width: 1140px) 100vw, (min-width: 1141px) 1140px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01-720.jpg 720w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01.jpg 1140w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01-2280.jpg 2280w"
+       src="[[base_url]]2016/no-air-con-01.jpg" alt="The big Blue bus sans air conditioner roof wart">
+
+Afterward I stood back and looked at the Travco. All the clean lines and curves joined together again, no more air conditioning warts to interrupt the sliding smooth and unbroken swoop of white and blue. The big blue bus looked sleek and whole again.
+
+I'll admit it gave me no small measure of satisfaction, thinking that perhaps, amidst the exponentially increasing insanity, I'd made some tiny thing right in the world. It was that same sort joy that comes from eating really dark chocolate. The aesthetic perfection of hundred percent dark chocolate. 
+
+I didn't really get a chance to savor this feeling because the universe hates smugness and soon after I had another thought, hmm, maybe I should check and see if it's going to rain any time soon... Oh, well, yes it is. For three days straight. Starting tomorrow. And I just opened a fourteen inch square hole in the roof of the bus. Genius.
+
+<figure class="picfull">
+<img class="picfull" sizes="(max-width: 680px) 100vw, (min-width: 681) 680px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/hole.jpg 680w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/hole-2x.jpg 1360w,"
+    src="[[base_url]]2016/hole.jpg" alt="">
+<figcaption>The abyss stares back. Wait, did you say rain?</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+I got a trash bag, some painter's tape, some duct tape, a dictionary of German swear words, and got to work. 
+
+I had some time up there on the roof of the bus to reflect on what I had done. More or less an incredibly impractical thing. In the service of what I think is my offbeat, but at times deeply felt sense of aesthetics, I had ripped out two at least partly functioning air conditioners. 
+
+Actually I should probably look up aesthetics in the dictionary and make sure that's what I'm acting in the service of. Or I should read Kant. But then it all gets very technical and is predicated on the belief that there is an absolute sense of "good" and "bad" to beauty and I don't know if it matters that much. Maybe dark chocolate metaphors are good enough. If the dark chocolate is good enough. Screw Kant.
+
+Somewhere in a tangle of duct tape and torn plastic trash bags, I got to wondering what Kant would have made of a 1969 Travco. The engine would be new and presumably mind blowing, but Kant was probably familiar with Gypsies at least. The mobile home concept would be familiar. Probably frowned on, but familiar. But what would he make of tearing out an object of convenience and comfort because I think aesthetic integrity and beauty trump personal comfort? 
+
+I decided there was a high probability he would think I was an idiot to forego the comfort of air conditioning, which, from his point of view, would be like magic. The problem is I've never been able to get through more than a few pages of <cite>Critique of Judgment</cite> without being overcome with a desire to reach back through time and give the man a hug[^1] and say, relax, it's all going to be okay. 
+
+Aesthetics have always seemed pretty simple to me. There is stuff in the world that makes you feel delight. So when you discover this beauty and delight in the world around you, you embrace it and do what you can in service of it[^2]. Like removing ugly air conditioners.
+
+The designers of the Travco, to my mind, felt the same way, though they were doubtless bound by certain economic and marketplace constraints I don't have. Hence, warts on the roof if you must. But no one who's of a purely practical bent would ever have designed the large front sliding windows the way they are designed. They're wildly impractical, worse, they leak. But there they are. Pure aesthetics. They look like the person who designed them had discovered delight in their beauty. Little water coming in? Get a towel.
+
+<img class="picfull" sizes="(max-width: 680px) 100vw, (min-width: 681) 680px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/window.jpg 680w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/window-2x.jpg 1360w,"
+    src="[[base_url]]2016/window.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco main window">
+
+The marketplace does not value aesthetics though. The wonderful sweeping curves of the Travco's windows leaked badly enough that at some point (early '70s) the idea was abandoned altogether. 
+
+Aesthetics are a learning experience, a feedback loop of sorts, though the experience is better when it creates change in other direction -- adding *in* wildly impractical, but aesthetically delightful, sliding windows as it were. 
+
+Consider dark chocolate. I'd never really had any until I started dating my wife. I thought chocolate was something that skins a cheap candy bar full of nougat and indecipherable ingredients. The first time my wife gave me a bit of real chocolate was revelatory. The possibilities of life expanded, I had discovered more joy and beauty. Aesthetic progress you might say.
+
+Aesthetics are a life long process, always in flux, that's part of what drives us all to want to know what's around the next corner, over the next hill. As naturalist and herbalist Juliette de Bairacli Levy writes, "I believe that this endless search for beauty in surroundings, in people and one's personal life, is the headstone of travel."
+
+My own aesthetics are like yours I imagine, complicated and often contradictory, nothing so firmly delineated as to please Kant. But one thing I have figured out is that comfort is transitory and moreover, relative. Aesthetics are neither[^3]. 
+
+Which is to say, removing the air conditioner might mean that I end up hot, sweating and unable to sleep, but this too, as they say, shall pass. I won't *always* be hot sweaty and unable to sleep. I will always have to look at the air conditioning wart that used to be on top of the bus. Comfort must be chased; beauty exists.
+
+This is what I kept telling myself the next morning as I mopped up the floor where all the water had come pouring in after my duct tape and trash bag covering collapsed under the weight of accumulated rain water. Comfort is relative. Beauty just is. 
+
+For those of us from the relative north, one of the stranger sights in the tropics is the way everyone grabs a jacket the minute the temperature drops below 80 degrees. Even though I have been on the other side of it; living through a succession of New England winters with less and less pain each time. Still, I'll never forget the first night I spent in Goa. The sun went down, the temperature dropped to about 80 and the jackets came out. One person's balmy evening is another person's winter.
+
+By the time I got to [Seam Reap](/jrnl/2006/03/angkor-wat) several months later I thought I had adjusted a bit. I had not. It was hot, hotter than anything I have experienced before or since. Hotter than [Death Valley](/jrnl/2010/04/death-valley). I was traveling with Matt and Debi at the time and somehow we convinced ourselves that we didn't need air conditioning. To be honest I think it was Matt that convinced Debi and I. But he was right.
+
+During the day we spent our time outside exploring Angkor Wat in the heat of the day, when the rest of the tourists were passing the time in air conditioned cafés). We went out in the heat of the day precisely because it was hot, because hardly any other tourists did. We had Angkor Wat to ourselves. 
+
+<figure class="picfull">
+<img class="picfull" sizes="(max-width: 680px) 100vw, (min-width: 681) 680px"
+    srcset="[[base_url]]2016/angkor-wat-sans-people.jpg 680w,
+            [[base_url]]2016/angkor-wat-sans-people-2x.jpg 1360w,"
+    src="[[base_url]]2016/angkor-wat-sans-people.jpg" alt="Angkor Wat, Cambodia without the people">
+<figcaption>Angkor Wat without the people.</figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+We could have returned home to a nice air conditioned room. But if you do that you never adapt. Our bodies are fantastically adaptable machines over the long run. You get used to the heat. This never happens if you retreat to air conditioning at every opportunity. 
+
+At night we would crank the ceiling fan to 11 and then, one after the other, take the coldest shower we could get, which was just below scalding because the water tank was in the sun all day, and then dive in our respective beds in hopes that we'd would fall asleep before the real sweating started. 
+
+What does this slightly masochistic experiment have to do with aesthetics? Nothing directly, but I came away with from that experience knowing that comfort is relative, both psychologically and physiologically. Seam Reap set my relative quite a few notches above where it had been previously and ever since then I have never really been hot. Sure, it gets moderately unpleasant to be out working in the heat of the day in the Georgia summer, but every time I catch myself about to complain I think, well, at least it's not as hot as Seam Reap. 
+
+If you're going to be spending a lot of time in the heat it makes more sense to push through a bit of discomfort until you start to adapt to it than it does to hide out in air conditioning all the time. Eventually, after a few years I suspect, you'll be pulling out the jacket when the thermometer dips below 80.
+
+Adaptation may well be our greatest talent as a species. Air conditioning undercuts that.
+
+So in the end it makes more sense to tear out aesthetically unpleasant air conditioning units than it does to keep them. Comfort is relative and transitory, aesthetics are not.
+
+That said, up until now I've been making it sound like a binary choice -- air conditioning wart atop the bus or nothing. I am not the only one living in the Travco. And the one thing I put higher than aesthetics is never impose your will on someone else. Plus, I do like to have my dark chocolate and eat it too. 
+
+
+I would never subject my kids to Seam Reap without air conditioning. Not at their age anyway. Children are physiologically different, their bodies aren't as good at cooling themselves as adults are. 
+
+That's why I took the now useless 110V wire from the roof air conditioner, extended it with some new wire and rerouted it behind the closet and down to where the refrigerator used to be, where there is now plenty of room for a window air unit, which will serve as our new air conditioner and heater. 
+
+I can hear Kant breathing a sigh of relief. The magic is there if we need it. The beauty is there as well. Granted, I ripped out the generator, which means we'll never be able to run the air for long, but we should be able to run it enough to cool things off in the evening before bed (and we can run it as much as we like if there's shore power around).
+
+If it does get so hot that no one in my family is happy, or god forbid, our dark chocolate starts to melt, we'll do what people with movable homes have done for millennia -- go somewhere else. 
+
+[^1]: And Schopenhauer, that man really needed a hug. Actually most white male philosophers in European history seem like they would have benefited from more hugs.
+[^2]: If you don't embrace your own aesthetics, capitalism is always there to provide simpler, numeric terms by which to define value. Choose wisely.
+[^3]: There is of course fleeting beauty, e.g. sunsets. The shortness of some beautiful natural phenomena do not, however, affect our judgment of them as beautiful. It just means we only have a limited amount of time to enjoy them.
author	luxagraf <sng@luxagraf.net>	2023-07-28 13:43:36 -0500
committer	luxagraf <sng@luxagraf.net>	2023-07-28 13:43:36 -0500
commit	a30c790edea652494e7481f6798047a3bc1fd4ea (patch)
tree	b0936860abd6767716f56c68e305d8f5e0e38bd4 /bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03
parent	9a620cf42bf1fe6977e378bd834b41ff4a593dde (diff)