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diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/03/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/03/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49ba1ef --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/03/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,104 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <!--[if IE]> + <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv8.css" + media="screen"> + <!--[if IE]> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/css/ie.css" + media="screen"> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="manifest.json"> + <meta property="fb:pages" content="900822029969349" /> + +</head> +<body id="archive"> + <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> + <div class="header-wrapper"> + <header role="banner"> + <h1><a id="logo" href="/" title="home">Luxagraf</a></h1> + <h2>Walk Slowly</h2> + </header> + <nav role="navigation" class="bl"> + <ul> + <li id="laverdad"><a href="/jrnl/" title="What we've been up to lately">Journal</a></li> + <!--<li id="nota"><a href="/field-notes/" title="Quick notes and images from the road">Notes</a></li> + <li id="fotos"><a href="/photos/" title="Photos from travels around the world">Photos</a></li>i--> + <li id="maps"><a href="/map" title="Maps">Map</a></li> + <li id="about"><a href="/about" title="About Luxagraf">About</a></li> + <li id="etc" class="last"><a href="/projects/" title="the less visible portions of the iceberg">More</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + <ul class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/Breadcrumb"> + <li><a href="/" title="luxagraf homepage" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Home</span></a> → </li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="See all Journal Entries" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Journal</span></a> →</li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/2012/">2012</a> →</li> + <li>March</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: March 2012</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia" title="Street Food in Athens Georgia">Street Food in Athens Georgia</a> + <time datetime="2012-03-31T21:56:00-04:00">Mar 31, 2012</time> + </li> + </ul> + + + + <footer role="contentinfo"> + <nav class="bl"> + <ul> + <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> + <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> + <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + <p id="license"> + © 2003-2018 + <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). + </p> + </footer> + </div> + +<!-- Piwik --> +<script type="text/javascript"> +var _paq = _paq || []; 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Athens is not a huge place. It's not what I'd call a small town either, though the downtown area manages to retain, for now, that feel. That, combined with the U.S. Government's seeming dislike for street vendors in general means that there are, to the best of my knowledge only two or three street vendors in town and none of them have anything like a regular presence anywhere.</p> +<p>It used to be different. There used to at least be JB, who had a sausage cart that could be counted on to be outside the 40 Watt every Friday and Saturday night. Sometimes JB would even follow the crowds to house parties, slinging sausage, beans and "comeback" sauce into the wee hours of the morning. I miss JB. I <a href="http://one.longshotmag.com/article/going-for-seconds">wrote about my experience with JB</a> for Longshot Magazine a while back.</p> +<p>JB was irreplaceable. He left a vacuum that's never been properly filled. There is a 24 hour diner downtown, but there's something about eating on the street at night. It draws you out, makes you part of the city. It's a shared experience, street food. More communal and more intimate at the same time. </p> +<p><break></break></p> +<p>Cheap food, made fresh, in front of you. Served hot, wrapped in newspaper. Street food is the people's food, it removes the mystery of the kitchen, lays the process bare. It's the staple diet of people around the world. </p> +<p><amp-img alt="Fish tacos, street food, athens GA" height="335" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2012/foodcart-1.jpg" width="550"></amp-img> </p> +<p>I've had everything from fish and chips to deep fried water beetles from street vendors and it was all good. Yes, even the beetles. Part of the beauty of street food is you can see it all before you commit, so if it looks bad, well, on to the next cart. </p> +<p>For me places often come to be defined in large part by the food I ate. Especially looking back. Sites rarely stand out in my memory, but that delicious mystery meat I ate on the banks of the Mekong? Clear as day. When I think of India now I think of trains and chai. I think of little red clay cups piled beside the tracks, slowly dissolving in an afternoon thundershower. I think of little push carts clattering by, selling samosas and Chaats. </p> +<p>In Bangkok I lived for a month eating almost exclusively skewered meat grilled in a tiny cart with only a handful of glowing charcoal, tended by an old woman who spoke no English, but knew my order after two nights<sup id="fnref:1"><a href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. Six pork, six beef, spicy sauce, one bag of sticky rice.</p> +<p>In Paris I ate oysters from street vendors. In London fish and chips. In Laos noodle bowls. In Nicaragua empanadas and plantains. At home in Athens there used to be JB. Now there’s pretty much nothing.</p> +<p>In Athens this weekend that changed, if only for a meal or two. The deep friend Korean Hot Dog from <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Streets-Cafe/145003412180488">Streets Café</a> was amazing. As was the sausage from <a href="http://www.lafondadawgs.com/">La Fonda</a>. Several of the Atlanta-based trucks were great as well. But none of it will be there tomorrow. In fact it probably won't be there ever again. That's what was sad about the experience, it was great big tease. It was a reminder: you could have this. But you don't.</p> +<p>On some level my love of street food isn't really even about the food. The food is just the catalyst for something more. It's the common tether that brings us all to the same table in the end. There are huge gulfs between cultures, beliefs differ in ways that you’re never going to move beyond, but everyone understands food. </p> +<p>If you want to get to know someone, eat with them. It’s the universal social language.</p> +<p>And that's what makes a community, people coming together in collective spaces -- owned by no one -- and setting aside whatever might divide them for long enough to share a table, a taco, a noodle bowl, some rice. </p> +<p><amp-img alt="People and food come together, athens GA" height="367" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2012/foodcart-2.jpg" width="550"></amp-img> </p> +<p>In order for people to come together, in order to establish the kind of commons that form the basis of a healthy community, you need some kind of anchor. You need something to tether the whole thing to the ground. Street food carts and trucks offer that anchor, that basis for bringing people together in a communal space. </p> +<p>That’s missing in Athens and it has been ever since JB stopped pulling into the 40 Watt parking lot. Athens has world class restaurants. Athens has world famous music venues and more bars than many cities twice its size. That's all great, but none of it brings us together the way street food could if we let it.</p> +<ol class="footnote"> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>According to a friend who was in Bangkok last week she's still there, plying her trade.<a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +</ol> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ef8d77 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia.html @@ -0,0 +1,401 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Street Food In Athens Georgia - by Scott Gilbertson</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="If you want to get to know someone, eat with them. 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Athens is not a huge place. It’s not what I’d call a small town either, though the downtown area manages to retain, for now, that feel. That, combined with the U.S. Government’s seeming dislike for street vendors in general means that there are, to the best of my knowledge only two or three street vendors in town and none of them have anything like a regular presence anywhere.</p> +<p>It used to be different. There used to at least be JB, who had a sausage cart that could be counted on to be outside the 40 Watt every Friday and Saturday night. Sometimes JB would even follow the crowds to house parties, slinging sausage, beans and “comeback” sauce into the wee hours of the morning. I miss JB. I <a href="http://one.longshotmag.com/article/going-for-seconds">wrote about my experience with JB</a> for Longshot Magazine a while back.</p> +<p>JB was irreplaceable. He left a vacuum that’s never been properly filled. There is a 24 hour diner downtown, but there’s something about eating on the street at night. It draws you out, makes you part of the city. It’s a shared experience, street food. More communal and more intimate at the same time. </p> +<p><break></p> +<p>Cheap food, made fresh, in front of you. Served hot, wrapped in newspaper. Street food is the people’s food, it removes the mystery of the kitchen, lays the process bare. It’s the staple diet of people around the world. </p> +<p><img alt="Fish tacos, street food, athens GA" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2012/foodcart-1.jpg"/> </p> +<p>I’ve had everything from fish and chips to deep fried water beetles from street vendors and it was all good. Yes, even the beetles. Part of the beauty of street food is you can see it all before you commit, so if it looks bad, well, on to the next cart. </p> +<p>For me places often come to be defined in large part by the food I ate. Especially looking back. Sites rarely stand out in my memory, but that delicious mystery meat I ate on the banks of the Mekong? Clear as day. When I think of India now I think of trains and chai. I think of little red clay cups piled beside the tracks, slowly dissolving in an afternoon thundershower. I think of little push carts clattering by, selling samosas and Chaats. </p> +<p>In Bangkok I lived for a month eating almost exclusively skewered meat grilled in a tiny cart with only a handful of glowing charcoal, tended by an old woman who spoke no English, but knew my order after two nights<sup id="fnref:1"><a href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. Six pork, six beef, spicy sauce, one bag of sticky rice.</p> +<p>In Paris I ate oysters from street vendors. In London fish and chips. In Laos noodle bowls. In Nicaragua empanadas and plantains. At home in Athens there used to be JB. Now there’s pretty much nothing.</p> +<p>In Athens this weekend that changed, if only for a meal or two. The deep friend Korean Hot Dog from <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Streets-Cafe/145003412180488">Streets Café</a> was amazing. As was the sausage from <a href="http://www.lafondadawgs.com/">La Fonda</a>. Several of the Atlanta-based trucks were great as well. But none of it will be there tomorrow. In fact it probably won’t be there ever again. That’s what was sad about the experience, it was great big tease. It was a reminder: you could have this. But you don’t.</p> +<p>On some level my love of street food isn’t really even about the food. The food is just the catalyst for something more. It’s the common tether that brings us all to the same table in the end. There are huge gulfs between cultures, beliefs differ in ways that you’re never going to move beyond, but everyone understands food. </p> +<p>If you want to get to know someone, eat with them. It’s the universal social language.</p> +<p>And that’s what makes a community, people coming together in collective spaces — owned by no one — and setting aside whatever might divide them for long enough to share a table, a taco, a noodle bowl, some rice. </p> +<p><img alt="People and food come together, athens GA" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2012/foodcart-2.jpg"/> </p> +<p>In order for people to come together, in order to establish the kind of commons that form the basis of a healthy community, you need some kind of anchor. You need something to tether the whole thing to the ground. Street food carts and trucks offer that anchor, that basis for bringing people together in a communal space. </p> +<p>That’s missing in Athens and it has been ever since JB stopped pulling into the 40 Watt parking lot. Athens has world class restaurants. Athens has world famous music venues and more bars than many cities twice its size. That’s all great, but none of it brings us together the way street food could if we let it.</p> +<ol class="footnote"> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>According to a friend who was in Bangkok last week she’s still there, plying her trade.<a href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> +</li> +</ol> + </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> + </ul> + </ul> + </aside> + + + </div> + </article> + + + <div class="nav-wrapper"> + <nav id="page-navigation" > + <ul> + <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2011/10/worst-place-on-earth" rel="prev" title=" The Worst Place on Earth">The Worst Place on Earth</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2012/05/things-behind-sun" rel="next" title=" Things Behind the Sun">Things Behind the Sun</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> + +<div class="comment--form--header"> + <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> + <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> +</div> +<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> + +<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> + + + <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="130" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833451" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="e707e6717ac3c4b1e53cef20d115bc2647c56731" id="id_security_hash"> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_name">Name:</label> + <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> + <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_url">URL:</label> + <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> + <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> +</textarea></div> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset style="display:none;"> + <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> + <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> + </fieldset> + + + <div class="submit"> + <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> + <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> + </div> +</form> +<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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Athens is not a huge place. It's not what I'd call a small town either, though the downtown area manages to retain, for now, that feel. That, combined with the U.S. Government's seeming dislike for street vendors in general means that there are, to the best of my knowledge only two or three street vendors in town and none of them have anything like a regular presence anywhere.
+
+It used to be different. There used to at least be JB, who had a sausage cart that could be counted on to be outside the 40 Watt every Friday and Saturday night. Sometimes JB would even follow the crowds to house parties, slinging sausage, beans and "comeback" sauce into the wee hours of the morning. I miss JB. I [wrote about my experience with JB][3] for Longshot Magazine a while back.
+
+JB was irreplaceable. He left a vacuum that's never been properly filled. There is a 24 hour diner downtown, but there's something about eating on the street at night. It draws you out, makes you part of the city. It's a shared experience, street food. More communal and more intimate at the same time.
+
+<break>
+
+Cheap food, made fresh, in front of you. Served hot, wrapped in newspaper. Street food is the people's food, it removes the mystery of the kitchen, lays the process bare. It's the staple diet of people around the world.
+
+<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2012/foodcart-1.jpg" alt="Fish tacos, street food, athens GA" />
+
+I've had everything from fish and chips to deep fried water beetles from street vendors and it was all good. Yes, even the beetles. Part of the beauty of street food is you can see it all before you commit, so if it looks bad, well, on to the next cart.
+
+For me places often come to be defined in large part by the food I ate. Especially looking back. Sites rarely stand out in my memory, but that delicious mystery meat I ate on the banks of the Mekong? Clear as day. When I think of India now I think of trains and chai. I think of little red clay cups piled beside the tracks, slowly dissolving in an afternoon thundershower. I think of little push carts clattering by, selling samosas and Chaats.
+
+In Bangkok I lived for a month eating almost exclusively skewered meat grilled in a tiny cart with only a handful of glowing charcoal, tended by an old woman who spoke no English, but knew my order after two nights<sup id="fnref:1"><a href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. Six pork, six beef, spicy sauce, one bag of sticky rice.
+
+In Paris I ate oysters from street vendors. In London fish and chips. In Laos noodle bowls. In Nicaragua empanadas and plantains. At home in Athens there used to be JB. Now there’s pretty much nothing.
+
+In Athens this weekend that changed, if only for a meal or two. The deep friend Korean Hot Dog from [Streets Café][1] was amazing. As was the sausage from [La Fonda][2]. Several of the Atlanta-based trucks were great as well. But none of it will be there tomorrow. In fact it probably won't be there ever again. That's what was sad about the experience, it was great big tease. It was a reminder: you could have this. But you don't.
+
+On some level my love of street food isn't really even about the food. The food is just the catalyst for something more. It's the common tether that brings us all to the same table in the end. There are huge gulfs between cultures, beliefs differ in ways that you’re never going to move beyond, but everyone understands food.
+
+If you want to get to know someone, eat with them. It’s the universal social language.
+
+And that's what makes a community, people coming together in collective spaces -- owned by no one -- and setting aside whatever might divide them for long enough to share a table, a taco, a noodle bowl, some rice.
+
+<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2012/foodcart-2.jpg" alt="People and food come together, athens GA" />
+
+In order for people to come together, in order to establish the kind of commons that form the basis of a healthy community, you need some kind of anchor. You need something to tether the whole thing to the ground. Street food carts and trucks offer that anchor, that basis for bringing people together in a communal space.
+
+That’s missing in Athens and it has been ever since JB stopped pulling into the 40 Watt parking lot. Athens has world class restaurants. Athens has world famous music venues and more bars than many cities twice its size. That's all great, but none of it brings us together the way street food could if we let it.
+
+[1]: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Streets-Cafe/145003412180488
+[2]: http://www.lafondadawgs.com/
+[3]: http://one.longshotmag.com/article/going-for-seconds
+[4]: http://athensfoodcartfest.wordpress.com/
+
+<ol class="footnote">
+<li id="fn:1">
+<p>According to a friend who was in Bangkok last week she's still there, plying her trade.<a href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+ diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/05/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/05/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d8e258 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/05/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,104 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <!--[if IE]> + <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv8.css" + media="screen"> + <!--[if IE]> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/css/ie.css" + media="screen"> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="manifest.json"> + <meta property="fb:pages" content="900822029969349" /> + +</head> +<body id="archive"> + <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> + <div class="header-wrapper"> + <header role="banner"> + <h1><a id="logo" href="/" title="home">Luxagraf</a></h1> + <h2>Walk Slowly</h2> + </header> + <nav role="navigation" class="bl"> + <ul> + <li id="laverdad"><a href="/jrnl/" title="What we've been up to lately">Journal</a></li> + <!--<li id="nota"><a href="/field-notes/" title="Quick notes and images from the road">Notes</a></li> + <li id="fotos"><a href="/photos/" title="Photos from travels around the world">Photos</a></li>i--> + <li id="maps"><a href="/map" title="Maps">Map</a></li> + <li id="about"><a href="/about" title="About Luxagraf">About</a></li> + <li id="etc" class="last"><a href="/projects/" title="the less visible portions of the iceberg">More</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + <ul class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/Breadcrumb"> + <li><a href="/" title="luxagraf homepage" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Home</span></a> → </li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="See all Journal Entries" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Journal</span></a> →</li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/2012/">2012</a> →</li> + <li>May</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: May 2012</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2012/05/things-behind-sun" title="Things Behind the Sun">Things Behind the Sun</a> + <time datetime="2012-05-20T22:47:00-04:00">May 20, 2012</time> + </li> + </ul> + + + + <footer role="contentinfo"> + <nav class="bl"> + <ul> + <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> + <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> + <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + <p id="license"> + © 2003-2018 + <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). + </p> + </footer> + </div> + +<!-- Piwik --> +<script type="text/javascript"> +var _paq = _paq || []; 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They can no longer afford to live at home with the level of care they now require. </p> +<p>I don't know how much of my life was spent in that house, probably well over a year if you added up all the holidays and family gatherings.</p> +<p>I can smell the house, I can see the bedrooms though I haven't actually walked down the hall in many, many years. I remember trying to fall asleep in the front room to the red glow of the candle bulbs my grandmother put up at Christmas. I remember listening to Neil Diamond 8 tracks in the same room. I remember my cousin walking around the kitchen with the fantastically long, coiled phone cord trailing behind her (still the longest phone cord I've ever seen).</p> +<p><break></break></p> +<p>And now I'm thousands of miles away and someone is clearing out the house. Moving out the furniture, dividing up a few possessions among children and grandchildren and all I can think about is that I've never even taken a picture of the house. </p> +<p>I'd like to stand in the street one last time and look at the low, brick house, the curved curb and the perpetually dead lawn, to take a picture, not to remember it, I'll never forget it anyway, but simply to have done it. To have taken the time to do it because I recognized it meant something to me; but I didn't.</p> +<p>I'd like it to be evening when I take the picture, the sort of desert evening that is pure relief, when the sky sighs a light grey-blue glow at twilight and the temperature finally falls below a hundred. The dry air is still, the clouds silent in the distance, behind the mountains. I'd like to frame the photo on the left with the junipers that aren't there any more, but were when I was younger. In the center I'd like to see the old brown Datsun truck (long since sold) that used to meet us in Utah, Arizona, Colorado to go camping for a week each spring. Zion National Park, Canyonlands, Arches, Natural Bridges, the wild southwest desert. The small brown truck with its white camper shell, tent and stove tucked in the back, fishing poles in long tubes hanging from the roof inside the shell, the silver washpan my grandfather poured scalding water into every morning to shave, a little mirror hanging from the camper shell hinge. My grandparents slept in cots in a tent. They were well into their sixties by then.</p> +<p>I'd like to get Pepper in the picture. I only saw him a few weeks of the year, but he was the closest thing I ever had to a dog when I was young. And perhaps Honcho, the ornery cat I never really liked, but he was tough and I always respected him. </p> +<p>I can see this image in my mind, see it quite clearly, but I'll never be able to take it. It's just a house, a structure made of brick and wood. Nothing more. Everything else is your mind, where you can keep it forever. I'm not sure if I keep saying that to myself because I believe it or because I want to. It's true either way. Everything else is in your mind. Even if you didn't think to remember it until the memories were all you had. </p> +<p><small>Image adapted from <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/5174263185/">Dusk</a> by Kevin Dooley, Flickr</small></p> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/05/things-behind-sun.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/05/things-behind-sun.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..14ec1d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/05/things-behind-sun.html @@ -0,0 +1,390 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Things Behind The Sun - by Scott Gilbertson</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="Everything else is in your mind. 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They can no longer afford to live at home with the level of care they now require. </p> +<p>I don’t know how much of my life was spent in that house, probably well over a year if you added up all the holidays and family gatherings.</p> +<p>I can smell the house, I can see the bedrooms though I haven’t actually walked down the hall in many, many years. I remember trying to fall asleep in the front room to the red glow of the candle bulbs my grandmother put up at Christmas. I remember listening to Neil Diamond 8 tracks in the same room. I remember my cousin walking around the kitchen with the fantastically long, coiled phone cord trailing behind her (still the longest phone cord I’ve ever seen).</p> +<p><break></p> +<p>And now I’m thousands of miles away and someone is clearing out the house. Moving out the furniture, dividing up a few possessions among children and grandchildren and all I can think about is that I’ve never even taken a picture of the house. </p> +<p>I’d like to stand in the street one last time and look at the low, brick house, the curved curb and the perpetually dead lawn, to take a picture, not to remember it, I’ll never forget it anyway, but simply to have done it. To have taken the time to do it because I recognized it meant something to me; but I didn’t.</p> +<p>I’d like it to be evening when I take the picture, the sort of desert evening that is pure relief, when the sky sighs a light grey-blue glow at twilight and the temperature finally falls below a hundred. The dry air is still, the clouds silent in the distance, behind the mountains. I’d like to frame the photo on the left with the junipers that aren’t there any more, but were when I was younger. In the center I’d like to see the old brown Datsun truck (long since sold) that used to meet us in Utah, Arizona, Colorado to go camping for a week each spring. Zion National Park, Canyonlands, Arches, Natural Bridges, the wild southwest desert. The small brown truck with its white camper shell, tent and stove tucked in the back, fishing poles in long tubes hanging from the roof inside the shell, the silver washpan my grandfather poured scalding water into every morning to shave, a little mirror hanging from the camper shell hinge. My grandparents slept in cots in a tent. They were well into their sixties by then.</p> +<p>I’d like to get Pepper in the picture. I only saw him a few weeks of the year, but he was the closest thing I ever had to a dog when I was young. And perhaps Honcho, the ornery cat I never really liked, but he was tough and I always respected him. </p> +<p>I can see this image in my mind, see it quite clearly, but I’ll never be able to take it. It’s just a house, a structure made of brick and wood. Nothing more. Everything else is your mind, where you can keep it forever. I’m not sure if I keep saying that to myself because I believe it or because I want to. It’s true either way. Everything else is in your mind. Even if you didn’t think to remember it until the memories were all you had. </p> +<p><small>Image adapted from <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/5174263185/">Dusk</a> by Kevin Dooley, Flickr</small></p> + </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> + </ul> + </ul> + </aside> + + + </div> + </article> + + + <div class="nav-wrapper"> + <nav id="page-navigation" > + <ul> + <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia" rel="prev" title=" Street Food in Athens Georgia">Street Food in Athens Georgia</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2013/05/consider-the-apalachicola-oyster" rel="next" title=" Consider the Apalachicola Oyster">Consider the Apalachicola Oyster</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> + +<div class="comment--form--header"> + <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> + <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> +</div> +<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> + +<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> + + + <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="131" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833450" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="f241258fceb31736efa36035920f67b468ec1b3c" id="id_security_hash"> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_name">Name:</label> + <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> + <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_url">URL:</label> + <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset > + <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> + <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> +</textarea></div> + </fieldset> + + + + <fieldset style="display:none;"> + <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> + <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> + </fieldset> + + + <div class="submit"> + <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> + <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> + </div> +</form> +<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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+
+My grandparents left the home they lived in for 60 years today. They can no longer afford to live at home with the level of care they now require.
+
+I don't know how much of my life was spent in that house, probably well over a year if you added up all the holidays and family gatherings.
+
+I can smell the house, I can see the bedrooms though I haven't actually walked down the hall in many, many years. I remember trying to fall asleep in the front room to the red glow of the candle bulbs my grandmother put up at Christmas. I remember listening to Neil Diamond 8 tracks in the same room. I remember my cousin walking around the kitchen with the fantastically long, coiled phone cord trailing behind her (still the longest phone cord I've ever seen).
+
+<break>
+
+And now I'm thousands of miles away and someone is clearing out the house. Moving out the furniture, dividing up a few possessions among children and grandchildren and all I can think about is that I've never even taken a picture of the house.
+
+I'd like to stand in the street one last time and look at the low, brick house, the curved curb and the perpetually dead lawn, to take a picture, not to remember it, I'll never forget it anyway, but simply to have done it. To have taken the time to do it because I recognized it meant something to me; but I didn't.
+
+I'd like it to be evening when I take the picture, the sort of desert evening that is pure relief, when the sky sighs a light grey-blue glow at twilight and the temperature finally falls below a hundred. The dry air is still, the clouds silent in the distance, behind the mountains. I'd like to frame the photo on the left with the junipers that aren't there any more, but were when I was younger. In the center I'd like to see the old brown Datsun truck (long since sold) that used to meet us in Utah, Arizona, Colorado to go camping for a week each spring. Zion National Park, Canyonlands, Arches, Natural Bridges, the wild southwest desert. The small brown truck with its white camper shell, tent and stove tucked in the back, fishing poles in long tubes hanging from the roof inside the shell, the silver washpan my grandfather poured scalding water into every morning to shave, a little mirror hanging from the camper shell hinge. My grandparents slept in cots in a tent. They were well into their sixties by then.
+
+I'd like to get Pepper in the picture. I only saw him a few weeks of the year, but he was the closest thing I ever had to a dog when I was young. And perhaps Honcho, the ornery cat I never really liked, but he was tough and I always respected him.
+
+I can see this image in my mind, see it quite clearly, but I'll never be able to take it. It's just a house, a structure made of brick and wood. Nothing more. Everything else is your mind, where you can keep it forever. I'm not sure if I keep saying that to myself because I believe it or because I want to. It's true either way. Everything else is in your mind. Even if you didn't think to remember it until the memories were all you had.
+
+<small>Image adapted from [Dusk][1] by Kevin Dooley, Flickr</small>
+
+[1]: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/5174263185/ diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba58621 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2012/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,116 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="description" + content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <!--[if IE]> + <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv8.css" + media="screen"> + <!--[if IE]> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/css/ie.css" + media="screen"> + <![endif]--> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="manifest.json"> + <meta property="fb:pages" content="900822029969349" /> + +</head> +<body id="archive"> + <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> + <div class="header-wrapper"> + <header role="banner"> + <h1><a id="logo" href="/" title="home">Luxagraf</a></h1> + <h2>Walk Slowly</h2> + </header> + <nav role="navigation" class="bl"> + <ul> + <li id="laverdad"><a href="/jrnl/" title="What we've been up to lately">Journal</a></li> + <!--<li id="nota"><a href="/field-notes/" title="Quick notes and images from the road">Notes</a></li> + <li id="fotos"><a href="/photos/" title="Photos from travels around the world">Photos</a></li>i--> + <li id="maps"><a href="/map" title="Maps">Map</a></li> + <li id="about"><a href="/about" title="About Luxagraf">About</a></li> + <li id="etc" class="last"><a href="/projects/" title="the less visible portions of the iceberg">More</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + <ul class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/Breadcrumb"> + <li><a href="/" title="luxagraf homepage" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Home</span></a> → </li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="See all Journal Entries" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Journal</span></a> →</li> + <li>2012</li> + + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1>2012, on luxagraf</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="dater"><span>March 2012</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia" title="Street Food in Athens Georgia">Street Food in Athens Georgia</a> + <time datetime="2012-03-31T21:56:00-04:00">Mar 31, 2012</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>May 2012</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2012/05/things-behind-sun" title="Things Behind the Sun">Things Behind the Sun</a> + <time datetime="2012-05-20T22:47:00-04:00">May 20, 2012</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + </ul> + + + <footer role="contentinfo"> + <nav class="bl"> + <ul> + <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> + <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> + <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> + <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + <p id="license"> + © 2003-2018 + <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). + </p> + </footer> + </div> + +<!-- Piwik --> +<script type="text/javascript"> +var _paq = _paq || []; 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