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diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/01/bring-on-the-change.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/01/bring-on-the-change.amp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04cda37 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/01/bring-on-the-change.amp @@ -0,0 +1,186 @@ + + +<!doctype html> +<html amp lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Bring on the Change</title> +<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/01/bring-on-the-change"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> + <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> + <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2016/01/bring-on-the-change"> + <meta name="twitter:description" content="I've been thinking about this little mantra ever since I saw it six or seven years ago. 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I don't think I've ever seen what I consider the secret to happiness so succinctly and completely captured. </p> +<p>I'm reprinting it here because I've been putting into action lately. And the author of this little guide happiness, Mark Pilgrim, removed his entire online presence back in 2011. When he originally published it in '09 or so he said he was on step 4. I assume he eventually made it to step 8. </p> +<blockquote> +<ol> +<li>Stop buying stuff you don't need</li> +<li>Pay off all your credit cards</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in your house/apartment storage lockers, etc.</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit on the first floor of your house attic, garage, etc.</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in one room of your house</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in a suitcase</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in a backpack</li> +<li>Get rid of the backpack</li> +</ol> +</blockquote> +<p>I would say I am simultaneously on steps 2 and 4, with 5 and even 6 in sight. </p> +<p>For the record, while I understand wandering monks and the like, right now I personally have no desire to go beyond step 7. Still, if I learned nothing else from Tolstoy, I did learn that you never know when you'll end wandering.</p> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/01/bring-on-the-change.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/01/bring-on-the-change.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b428d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/01/bring-on-the-change.html @@ -0,0 +1,395 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Bring On The Change - 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="I've been thinking about this little mantra ever since I saw it six or seven years ago. 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I don’t think I’ve ever seen what I consider the secret to happiness so succinctly and completely captured. </p> +<p>I’m reprinting it here because I’ve been putting into action lately. And the author of this little guide happiness, Mark Pilgrim, removed his entire online presence back in 2011. When he originally published it in ‘09 or so he said he was on step 4. I assume he eventually made it to step 8. </p> +<blockquote> +<ol> +<li>Stop buying stuff you don’t need</li> +<li>Pay off all your credit cards</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn’t fit in your house/apartment storage lockers, etc.</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn’t fit on the first floor of your house attic, garage, etc.</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn’t fit in one room of your house</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn’t fit in a suitcase</li> +<li>Get rid of all the stuff that doesn’t fit in a backpack</li> +<li>Get rid of the backpack</li> +</ol> +</blockquote> +<p>I would say I am simultaneously on steps 2 and 4, with 5 and even 6 in sight. </p> +<p>For the record, while I understand wandering monks and the like, right now I personally have no desire to go beyond step 7. Still, if I learned nothing else from Tolstoy, I did learn that you never know when you’ll end wandering.</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/2015/12/tools" rel="prev" title=" Tools">Tools</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/03/up-in-the-air" rel="next" title=" Up in the Air">Up in the Air</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="164" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833426" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="81e24ec03f9b52f6af4a9d563699843d3b6c8ad4" 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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I don't think I've ever seen what I consider the secret to happiness so succinctly and completely captured.
+
+I'm reprinting it here because I've been putting into action lately. And the author of this little guide happiness, Mark Pilgrim, removed his entire online presence back in 2011. When he originally published it in '09 or so he said he was on step 4. I assume he eventually made it to step 8.
+
+>1. Stop buying stuff you don't need
+>2. Pay off all your credit cards
+>3. Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in your house/apartment storage lockers, etc.
+>4. Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit on the first floor of your house attic, garage, etc.
+>5. Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in one room of your house
+>6. Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in a suitcase
+>7. Get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit in a backpack
+>8. Get rid of the backpack
+
+I would say I am simultaneously on steps 2 and 4, with 5 and even 6 in sight.
+
+For the record, while I understand wandering monks and the like, right now I personally have no desire to go beyond step 7. 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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> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/another-spring.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/another-spring.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..449cd61 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/another-spring.html @@ -0,0 +1,438 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Another Spring - 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="This becomes a day like any other that is somehow different. 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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> +<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’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"> + <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’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> +<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's no way you aren't going to do the same."> + </a> +<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"> + <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’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> + <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/2016/03/up-in-the-air" rel="prev" title=" Up in the Air">Up in the Air</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/05/root-down" rel="next" title=" Root Down">Root Down</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="167" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833425" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="b6d3e4c01ff21bfcbdb8a839d4a45add0bb12a70" 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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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> +<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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>March</li> + </ul> + <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 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 Air</a> + <time datetime="2016-03-08T15:44:28-05:00">Mar 08, 2016</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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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> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/up-in-the-air.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/up-in-the-air.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8553e83 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/03/up-in-the-air.html @@ -0,0 +1,450 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Up In The Air - 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="I tore the rear air unit off the back of the bus today. 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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’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"> +<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’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><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’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"> +<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’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> + <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/2016/01/bring-on-the-change" rel="prev" title=" Bring on the Change">Bring on the Change</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/03/another-spring" rel="next" title=" Another Spring">Another Spring</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="166" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833426" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="0e04cc0a256e38da1c176c6feaa37f1204a75f58" 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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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. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/back-from-somewhere.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/back-from-somewhere.amp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8bc7f23 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/back-from-somewhere.amp @@ -0,0 +1,211 @@ + + +<!doctype html> +<html amp lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Back From Somewhere</title> +<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> + <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> + <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere"> + <meta name="twitter:description" content="Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot, nor the humidity left over from morning rains convinced my kids to abandon the Jittery Joe's skate contest."/> + <meta name="twitter:title" content="Back From Somewhere"/> + <meta name="twitter:site" content="@luxagraf"/> + <meta name="twitter:domain" content="luxagraf"/> + <meta name="twitter:image:src" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/post-images/2016/skate.jpg"/> + <meta name="twitter:creator" content="@luxagraf"/> + <meta name="twitter:site:id" content="9469062"> + <meta name="twitter:creator:id" content="9469062"> + <meta name="twitter:description" content=""/> + + <meta name="geo.placename" content="Athens, Georgia"> + <meta name="geo.region" content="US-GA"> + <meta property="og:type" content="article" /> + <meta property="og:title" content="Back From Somewhere" /> + <meta property="og:url" content="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere" /> + <meta property="og:description" content="Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot, nor the humidity left over from morning rains convinced my kids to abandon the Jittery Joe's skate contest." /> + <meta property="article:published_time" content="2016-05-22T00:47:39" /> + <meta property="article:author" content="Luxagraf" /> + <meta property="og:site_name" content="Luxagraf" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/post-images/2016/skate.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_1170.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_2280.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_2280.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_2280.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:locale" content="en_US" /> + + +<script type="application/ld+json"> +{ + "@context": "http://schema.org", + "@type": "BlogPosting", + "headline": "Back From Somewhere", + "description": "Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot, nor the humidity left over from morning rains convinced my kids to abandon the Jittery Joe's skate contest.", + "datePublished": "2016-05-22T00:47:39", + "author": { + "@type": "Person", + "name": "Scott Gilbertson" + }, + "publisher": { + "@type": "Person", + "name": "Scott Gilbertson" + "logo": { + "@type": "ImageObject", + "url": "", + "width": 240, + "height": 53 + } + } +} +</script> +<style amp-custom> +body { + font-size: 1rem; 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At least they think they do. They're really good at getting excited about things. Like most kids (I imagine), they get excited about things even when I know they have only a dim inkling of what those things might actually entail. The idea, the anticipation, is often more exciting in fact than the actual thing.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="689" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>I went to get some coffee the other morning and noticed that the Jittery Joe's roaster was hosting a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1126780367373997/">skate contest</a> the following Saturday. Skating and surfing more or less defined my existence (along with punk rock) from junior high through, well, now.</p> +<p>I try not to steer my kids in any particular direction. I try to expose them to as many different things as possible and see where they're drawn. But secretly I really hope they end up liking a few of the things I did when I was a kid, like skate boarding. So I mentioned the skate contest the night before and showed them a bit of the old Bones Brigade video. They were entertained for a few minutes and then they wanted to move on to something else. </p> +<p>I figured the actual skate contest would be the same way: take it in for an hour or so and then slowly interest would wane and we'd all head home. That's about how it generally goes when we take them to any sort of organized event. </p> +<p>This time, however, I was wrong. They could not get enough of the skating. Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot nor the humidity left over from morning rains deterred them. We were there all afternoon, over four hours of skating, pulled pork and the occasional train rolling by. They never stopped loving it. </p> +<figure class="picfull"> +<amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="1472" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_2280.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_720.jpg 720w" width="2280"></amp-img> +<figcaption>Pulled pork sandwiches never hurt.</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>And neither did I. I haven't skated in years. Over a decade. And even before that most I did was use my old board to go get cigarettes from the gas station down the street. But skating culture, along with surfing culture and punk culture are things that were a huge part of me and that has never never gone away, even if I mostly watch from afar these days. </p> +<p>I still feel more at home among skaters, surfers and punks than anywhere else. </p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="1377" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_2280.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_720.jpg 720w" width="2280"></amp-img></p> +<p>Since having kids though I've accidentally drifted away from that culture. There are practical considerations. It's hard to get out to shows, the beach is a really long way away and I no longer have a skateboard. Instead I find myself at the sort of "kid friendly" affairs I swore I would never go to. And you know what, I was right, those things suck. And they aren't very kid friendly either. But we're remarkably adaptable creatures. Do something enough and it starts to feel normal, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. </p> +<p>I spent so much time not fitting in at kids birthday parties and "kid friendly" events around town I forgot that there was actually people with whom I did fit in. I'd forgotten that I had a people. </p> +<p>The Shredder Joes contest was a nice reminder that there are still sane, friendly, open people out there in the world among whom I feel at home.</p> +<p>On the drive home Corrinne turned to me and said "I know it's been 18 years, but I felt more at home there than I do at any of these hipster family bullshit events we go to." I'd been thinking a similar thing, but I'd been wondering why. </p> +<p>Why did the kids want to spend four hours watching skaters and can't be bothered with a petting zoo for more than five minutes?</p> +<p>I have a few theories, but the one that's most appealing is pretty simple: because the world of skating doesn't have rules. There are the basics rules of taking turns and accommodating the people around you, but for the most part you are expected to do whatever you want to do. The petting zoos and the kid friendly events are full of waiting in line and doing as you're told.</p> +<p>Another part of it is the welcoming nature of people in skate/surf/punk scene. That's not to say there aren't assholes in any group of people. There absolutely are, especially surfers who can be real territorial, but <a href="http://www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-surfer-gang-enforcement-20160211-story.html">exceptions aside</a>, generally, if you have the humility to start at the bottom, you'll be accepted eventually. It's even easier if you're a kid, I've seen some of the scariest looking heavily tattooed Hawaiian surfers move aside with a smile for some kid just learning<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. The thing about learning a skill like surfing or skating is that you never forget that it is <em>learned</em>, and that tends to create sympathy for those who are just starting out.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="1434" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_2280.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_720.jpg 720w" width="2280"></amp-img></p> +<p>Another thing that I think makes the skate/surf/punk scene different is that it's built around practice and failure. Watching skating is watching failure after failure until that time when you stick it and suddenly all that failure is gone. People comfortable with failure typically have less to prove. It was always my experience that skaters, surfers and punks were really only trying to prove something when they're skating, surfing or playing. Hipster parent events are one big gathering of uptight people with something to prove and nowhere to prove it. The difference between the two is palpable. </p> +<p>It could also be that those scenes are full of people who, by necessity, have mastered their fears. To a degree anyway. You can only get so far in skating if you're afraid of getting hurt. I know this because I was always too afraid of getting hurt to be any good<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup>. Anyone willing to drop in on a backyard ramp or empty pool has necessarily mastered at least some of their fear. Fear closes you up, it feeds on itself. </p> +<p>Whatever it is that makes these things different my kids seem to pick up on it. </p> +<p>The skate show was also the single most diverse event I've ever been to in Athens. With one exception, there was not a single woman skating. That was disappointing, but when we got home I pulled up some videos of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMocKem3N4c">Vanessa Torres</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91IgE_JXiBs">Elissa Steamer</a> and <a href="http://www.peggyoki.com/about-me/peggy-oki-dogtown-and-z-boys">Peggy Oki</a>, along with some great home videos of girls skating on YouTube to balance things out. </p> +<p>The best part of the day for me though was on the way home when Olivia asked if she could have a skateboard for her birthday. Absolutely.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr/> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>Whereas, while still friendly, they did not hesitate to cut me or my friend Andy out of any wave they wanted. <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>Put me in the water and my fear disappears, but concrete? That shit hurts. And I could never get past that enough to get any better. <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> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/back-from-somewhere.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/back-from-somewhere.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3bcdab4 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/back-from-somewhere.html @@ -0,0 +1,434 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Back From Somewhere - 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="Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot, nor the humidity left over from morning rains convinced my kids to abandon the Jittery Joe's skate contest."> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv9.css" + media="screen"> + <link rel="stylesheet" href="/media/print.css" media="print" title="print" /> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="/favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="/manifest.json" /> + <link rel="dns-prefetch" href="https://stats.luxagraf.net"> + + <link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere" /> + <meta name="ICBM" content="33.96708459770432, -83.38646227664735" /> + <meta name="geo.position" content="33.96708459770432; 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return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> + </div> + <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-05-22T00:47:39" itemprop="datePublished">May <span>22, 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> + </header> + <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody"> + <p>My kids love to do new things. At least they think they do. They’re really good at getting excited about things. Like most kids (I imagine), they get excited about things even when I know they have only a dim inkling of what those things might actually entail. The idea, the anticipation, is often more exciting in fact than the actual thing.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528.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/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528_picwide-med.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>I went to get some coffee the other morning and noticed that the Jittery Joe’s roaster was hosting a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1126780367373997/">skate contest</a> the following Saturday. Skating and surfing more or less defined my existence (along with punk rock) from junior high through, well, now.</p> +<p>I try not to steer my kids in any particular direction. I try to expose them to as many different things as possible and see where they’re drawn. But secretly I really hope they end up liking a few of the things I did when I was a kid, like skate boarding. So I mentioned the skate contest the night before and showed them a bit of the old Bones Brigade video. They were entertained for a few minutes and then they wanted to move on to something else. </p> +<p>I figured the actual skate contest would be the same way: take it in for an hour or so and then slowly interest would wane and we’d all head home. That’s about how it generally goes when we take them to any sort of organized event. </p> +<p>This time, however, I was wrong. They could not get enough of the skating. Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot nor the humidity left over from morning rains deterred them. We were there all afternoon, over four hours of skating, pulled pork and the occasional train rolling by. They never stopped loving it. </p> +<figure class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922.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/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Pulled pork sandwiches never hurt."> + </a> +<figcaption>Pulled pork sandwiches never hurt.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>And neither did I. I haven’t skated in years. Over a decade. And even before that most I did was use my old board to go get cigarettes from the gas station down the street. But skating culture, along with surfing culture and punk culture are things that were a huge part of me and that has never never gone away, even if I mostly watch from afar these days. </p> +<p>I still feel more at home among skaters, surfers and punks than anywhere else. </p> +<div class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807.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/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Since having kids though I’ve accidentally drifted away from that culture. There are practical considerations. It’s hard to get out to shows, the beach is a really long way away and I no longer have a skateboard. Instead I find myself at the sort of “kid friendly” affairs I swore I would never go to. And you know what, I was right, those things suck. And they aren’t very kid friendly either. But we’re remarkably adaptable creatures. Do something enough and it starts to feel normal, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. </p> +<p>I spent so much time not fitting in at kids birthday parties and “kid friendly” events around town I forgot that there was actually people with whom I did fit in. I’d forgotten that I had a people. </p> +<p>The Shredder Joes contest was a nice reminder that there are still sane, friendly, open people out there in the world among whom I feel at home.</p> +<p>On the drive home Corrinne turned to me and said “I know it’s been 18 years, but I felt more at home there than I do at any of these hipster family bullshit events we go to.” I’d been thinking a similar thing, but I’d been wondering why. </p> +<p>Why did the kids want to spend four hours watching skaters and can’t be bothered with a petting zoo for more than five minutes?</p> +<p>I have a few theories, but the one that’s most appealing is pretty simple: because the world of skating doesn’t have rules. There are the basics rules of taking turns and accommodating the people around you, but for the most part you are expected to do whatever you want to do. The petting zoos and the kid friendly events are full of waiting in line and doing as you’re told.</p> +<p>Another part of it is the welcoming nature of people in skate/surf/punk scene. That’s not to say there aren’t assholes in any group of people. There absolutely are, especially surfers who can be real territorial, but <a href="http://www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-surfer-gang-enforcement-20160211-story.html">exceptions aside</a>, generally, if you have the humility to start at the bottom, you’ll be accepted eventually. It’s even easier if you’re a kid, I’ve seen some of the scariest looking heavily tattooed Hawaiian surfers move aside with a smile for some kid just learning<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. The thing about learning a skill like surfing or skating is that you never forget that it is <em>learned</em>, and that tends to create sympathy for those who are just starting out.</p> +<div class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009.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/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Another thing that I think makes the skate/surf/punk scene different is that it’s built around practice and failure. Watching skating is watching failure after failure until that time when you stick it and suddenly all that failure is gone. People comfortable with failure typically have less to prove. It was always my experience that skaters, surfers and punks were really only trying to prove something when they’re skating, surfing or playing. Hipster parent events are one big gathering of uptight people with something to prove and nowhere to prove it. The difference between the two is palpable. </p> +<p>It could also be that those scenes are full of people who, by necessity, have mastered their fears. To a degree anyway. You can only get so far in skating if you’re afraid of getting hurt. I know this because I was always too afraid of getting hurt to be any good<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup>. Anyone willing to drop in on a backyard ramp or empty pool has necessarily mastered at least some of their fear. Fear closes you up, it feeds on itself. </p> +<p>Whatever it is that makes these things different my kids seem to pick up on it. </p> +<p>The skate show was also the single most diverse event I’ve ever been to in Athens. With one exception, there was not a single woman skating. That was disappointing, but when we got home I pulled up some videos of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMocKem3N4c">Vanessa Torres</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91IgE_JXiBs">Elissa Steamer</a> and <a href="http://www.peggyoki.com/about-me/peggy-oki-dogtown-and-z-boys">Peggy Oki</a>, along with some great home videos of girls skating on YouTube to balance things out. </p> +<p>The best part of the day for me though was on the way home when Olivia asked if she could have a skateboard for her birthday. Absolutely.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>Whereas, while still friendly, they did not hesitate to cut me or my friend Andy out of any wave they wanted. <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>Put me in the water and my fear disappears, but concrete? That shit hurts. And I could never get past that enough to get any better. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:2" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">↩</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> + </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/2016/05/root-down" rel="prev" title=" Root Down">Root Down</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/06/engine" rel="next" title=" Engine">Engine</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="169" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833424" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="5d0b5f4ff83e728d12287fd83f86960d3c333e95" 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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At least they think they do. They're really good at getting excited about things. Like most kids (I imagine), they get excited about things even when I know they have only a dim inkling of what those things might actually entail. The idea, the anticipation, is often more exciting in fact than the actual thing.
+
+<img src="images/2017/skate-show_2016-05-21_132528.jpg" id="image-105" class="picwide" />
+
+I went to get some coffee the other morning and noticed that the Jittery Joe's roaster was hosting a [skate contest](https://www.facebook.com/events/1126780367373997/) the following Saturday. Skating and surfing more or less defined my existence (along with punk rock) from junior high through, well, now.
+
+I try not to steer my kids in any particular direction. I try to expose them to as many different things as possible and see where they're drawn. But secretly I really hope they end up liking a few of the things I did when I was a kid, like skate boarding. So I mentioned the skate contest the night before and showed them a bit of the old Bones Brigade video. They were entertained for a few minutes and then they wanted to move on to something else.
+
+I figured the actual skate contest would be the same way: take it in for an hour or so and then slowly interest would wane and we'd all head home. That's about how it generally goes when we take them to any sort of organized event.
+
+This time, however, I was wrong. They could not get enough of the skating. Neither the intense afternoon sun beating down on the concrete slab of parking lot nor the humidity left over from morning rains deterred them. We were there all afternoon, over four hours of skating, pulled pork and the occasional train rolling by. They never stopped loving it.
+
+<img src="images/2017/skate-show_2016-05-21_132922.jpg" id="image-107" class="picfull caption" />
+
+And neither did I. I haven't skated in years. Over a decade. And even before that most I did was use my old board to go get cigarettes from the gas station down the street. But skating culture, along with surfing culture and punk culture are things that were a huge part of me and that has never never gone away, even if I mostly watch from afar these days.
+
+I still feel more at home among skaters, surfers and punks than anywhere else.
+
+<img src="images/2017/skate-show_2016-05-21_131807.jpg" id="image-106" class="picfull" />
+
+Since having kids though I've accidentally drifted away from that culture. There are practical considerations. It's hard to get out to shows, the beach is a really long way away and I no longer have a skateboard. Instead I find myself at the sort of "kid friendly" affairs I swore I would never go to. And you know what, I was right, those things suck. And they aren't very kid friendly either. But we're remarkably adaptable creatures. Do something enough and it starts to feel normal, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.
+
+I spent so much time not fitting in at kids birthday parties and "kid friendly" events around town I forgot that there was actually people with whom I did fit in. I'd forgotten that I had a people.
+
+The Shredder Joes contest was a nice reminder that there are still sane, friendly, open people out there in the world among whom I feel at home.
+
+On the drive home Corrinne turned to me and said "I know it's been 18 years, but I felt more at home there than I do at any of these hipster family bullshit events we go to." I'd been thinking a similar thing, but I'd been wondering why.
+
+Why did the kids want to spend four hours watching skaters and can't be bothered with a petting zoo for more than five minutes?
+
+I have a few theories, but the one that's most appealing is pretty simple: because the world of skating doesn't have rules. There are the basics rules of taking turns and accommodating the people around you, but for the most part you are expected to do whatever you want to do. The petting zoos and the kid friendly events are full of waiting in line and doing as you're told.
+
+Another part of it is the welcoming nature of people in skate/surf/punk scene. That's not to say there aren't assholes in any group of people. There absolutely are, especially surfers who can be real territorial, but [exceptions aside](http://www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-surfer-gang-enforcement-20160211-story.html), generally, if you have the humility to start at the bottom, you'll be accepted eventually. It's even easier if you're a kid, I've seen some of the scariest looking heavily tattooed Hawaiian surfers move aside with a smile for some kid just learning[^1]. The thing about learning a skill like surfing or skating is that you never forget that it is *learned*, and that tends to create sympathy for those who are just starting out.
+
+<img src="images/2017/skate-show_2016-05-21_132009.jpg" id="image-108" class="picfull" />
+
+Another thing that I think makes the skate/surf/punk scene different is that it's built around practice and failure. Watching skating is watching failure after failure until that time when you stick it and suddenly all that failure is gone. People comfortable with failure typically have less to prove. It was always my experience that skaters, surfers and punks were really only trying to prove something when they're skating, surfing or playing. Hipster parent events are one big gathering of uptight people with something to prove and nowhere to prove it. The difference between the two is palpable.
+
+It could also be that those scenes are full of people who, by necessity, have mastered their fears. To a degree anyway. You can only get so far in skating if you're afraid of getting hurt. I know this because I was always too afraid of getting hurt to be any good[^2]. Anyone willing to drop in on a backyard ramp or empty pool has necessarily mastered at least some of their fear. Fear closes you up, it feeds on itself.
+
+Whatever it is that makes these things different my kids seem to pick up on it.
+
+The skate show was also the single most diverse event I've ever been to in Athens. With one exception, there was not a single woman skating. That was disappointing, but when we got home I pulled up some videos of [Vanessa Torres](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMocKem3N4c), [Elissa Steamer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91IgE_JXiBs) and [Peggy Oki](http://www.peggyoki.com/about-me/peggy-oki-dogtown-and-z-boys), along with some great home videos of girls skating on YouTube to balance things out.
+
+The best part of the day for me though was on the way home when Olivia asked if she could have a skateboard for her birthday. Absolutely.
+
+
+[^1]: Whereas, while still friendly, they did not hesitate to cut me or my friend Andy out of any wave they wanted.
+[^2]: Put me in the water and my fear disappears, but concrete? That shit hurts. And I could never get past that enough to get any better. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7a4999 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,107 @@ +<!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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>May</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: May 2016</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere" title="Back From Somewhere">Back From Somewhere</a> + <time datetime="2016-05-22T00:47:39-04:00">May 22, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/05/root-down" title="Root Down">Root Down</a> + <time datetime="2016-05-15T01:48:01-04:00">May 15, 2016</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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+ font-size: 0.875rem; +} +blockquote * { + font-style: italic; +} +blockquote * em { + font-weight: bold; +} +blockquote * strong { + font-style: normal; +} +hr { + border: none; + border-bottom: 0.0625rem dotted #ccc; +} +.hide {display: none;} +</style> +<style>body {opacity: 0}</style><noscript><style>body {opacity: 1}</style></noscript> +<script async src="https://cdn.ampproject.org/v0.js"></script> +</head> +<body> + +<nav> +<a href="https://luxagraf.net/"> +luxagraf</a> +</nav> + +<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">Root Down</h1> + <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post--date" datetime="2016-05-15T01:48:01" itemprop="datePublished">May <span>15, 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--" itemprop="articleBody"> + <p>One of the interesting things about moving is the archeology it requires, digging through layers of accumulation to reveal yourself. The longer you've been in one location the more stuff that's accumulated. As far as I can tell there is no real way to combat the detritus of the world seeping into your space, save cutting off all contact with the outside world. I imagine monasteries are generally immaculate; the rest of us get out the pick axes and clear the rubble.</p> +<p>At first I spent a lot time thinking how hard it is to move, but then I realized it's probably no harder to move out than it was to move in. Moving out just happens to severely compress time. You acquire over the span of 10 years. You un-acquire in a matter of weeks.</p> +<p>But in between the crap, the dirt as it were, there are the occasional shards of pottery and other things of interest. </p> +<p>Many moons ago I was down in Laguna Beach, CA at the now long gone Tippecanoe's clothing store when I ran across a relatively innocuous dark olive green shirt. Probably handmade, it looked a bit like an old-style baseball jersey, with an iron-on number three in red on the front pocket. On the back it had a cheery serif script that read "Fuck Our Society", flanked on either side by anarchy A's in padlocks. You bet your ass I bought it.</p> +<figure class="picfull"> +<amp-img alt="Fuck Our Society t-shirt photographed by luxagraf" height="1424" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/DSCF9320_01_2280.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/DSCF9320_01_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/DSCF9320_01_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/DSCF9320_01_720.jpg 720w" width="2280"></amp-img> +<figcaption>Clearly this was before I started paying attention to fonts.</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>I was in a band back then and I played quite a few shows in it. I'm pretty sure my friend Ruben asked me to play with his band on the side just because he wanted the shirt on stage with him. </p> +<p>This was Orange County CA in the mid to late 1990s, deviations from the norm simply didn't happen. The shirt stood out. I didn't wear it much. Wearing it was a kind of performance. And this site notwithstanding, I don't generally live my life as a public performance. I haven't worn the shirt since I moved back east in 1999.</p> +<p>Once, on the way to a show, we stopped at Trader Joe's to grab a snack for the road and while we were standing in line I felt a tap on the shoulder. I had been conscious of wearing the shirt since I got out of the car so I turned around expecting some kind of confrontation, but it was a tiny older woman, not much over five feet tall, a grandmotherly figure who I had no doubt was about to express some offense at my shirt. But instead she looked me up and down and then smiled and said, "I like your shirt." </p> +<p>I felt like that was probably the shirt's high water mark. I don't think I've worn it since. Why do I still have it? Fuck our society's obsession with keeping things. I fired off an email to a friend I knew would want it and it's gone.</p> +<p>This particular purge is probably the biggest I've ever done, both because we've been in this house the longest and because I've made the most money. Money, no matter how frugal you might be, seems to breed stuff. It's not the purchases or the money that bother me though. Not even the dumb things like the $1300 TV that's now worth essentially nothing. It's the little things I did not stop myself from getting. It's the lack of personal awareness they demonstrate. The old banjo that caught my eye at a junk shop outside of Nashville, the old mailing label and postage box set, the antique cards, the mediocre books that could have been checked out and returned and the coffee mugs. How many coffee mugs do I actually need? How many books am I reading right now?</p> +<p>All these little things are symptoms of my failure to appreciate things without possessing them. </p> +<p>I sold what I could on eBay. I took the books to a friend's yard sale and looked at them on the ground there in a cardboard box before I finally realized there was nothing special about them at all. </p> +<p>The rest of the accumulation I pitched into boxes and dumped at my favorite local charity thrift store.</p> +<p>Not everything goes though. I'm not a minimalist counting up my possessions. Not yet anyway. The bus may not be huge, but it's downright roomy compared to traveling with only a pack. We also have a storage unit for now. There are things I don't want to throw away, but which also don't belong in the bus. Like old photographs, which are probably the most exciting artifacts to stumble across in a moving dig.</p> +<p>It worries me sometimes that it's always the same photographs I discover whenever I undertake these excavations. The photographs I have are a reasonable catalogue of my life from roughly when I dropped out of college until about 2001 when I switched to a digital camera. There are no physical artifacts documenting anything in my life for the last 15 years, save a handful of prints from our wedding. </p> +<p>On the plus side this keeps the entirety of my photo collection to single shoe box. But I wonder. I wonder how much fun it will be to dig through your parent's hard drive in search of your youth. Will the hard drive even spin 50 years from now? Will there be an operating system and image viewers capable of reading all those zeros and ones? Do you have anything that could read the tape archives of 50 years ago? </p> +<p>I don't normally advocate for buying stuff, but a <a href="http://instax.com/products/printer/">Fuji Instax printer</a> is on our short list of trip purchases. I want to leave my kids a record of their childhood that exists outside these digital walls.</p> +<p>That's always the hard part of these excavations, figuring out what actually has personal value and what doesn't. I find I'm often wrong. I thought the banjo and the books had value to me, but they don't. Five years ago I almost threw out the photos. Now they're the only thing I keep around.</p> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/root-down.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/root-down.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0523b71 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/05/root-down.html @@ -0,0 +1,398 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single black" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Root Down - 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="Digging through the accumulation of a decade in search of the tiny scraps that actually matter."> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv9.css" + media="screen"> + <link rel="stylesheet" href="/media/print.css" media="print" title="print" /> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="/favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="/manifest.json" /> + <link rel="dns-prefetch" href="https://stats.luxagraf.net"> + + <link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/05/root-down" /> + <meta name="ICBM" content="33.95784791685379, -83.40821499175358" /> + <meta name="geo.position" content="33.95784791685379; 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return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> + </div> + <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-05-15T01:48:01" itemprop="datePublished">May <span>15, 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> + </header> + <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--" itemprop="articleBody"> + <p>One of the interesting things about moving is the archeology it requires, digging through layers of accumulation to reveal yourself. The longer you’ve been in one location the more stuff that’s accumulated. As far as I can tell there is no real way to combat the detritus of the world seeping into your space, save cutting off all contact with the outside world. I imagine monasteries are generally immaculate; the rest of us get out the pick axes and clear the rubble.</p> +<p>At first I spent a lot time thinking how hard it is to move, but then I realized it’s probably no harder to move out than it was to move in. Moving out just happens to severely compress time. You acquire over the span of 10 years. You un-acquire in a matter of weeks.</p> +<p>But in between the crap, the dirt as it were, there are the occasional shards of pottery and other things of interest. </p> +<p>Many moons ago I was down in Laguna Beach, CA at the now long gone Tippecanoe’s clothing store when I ran across a relatively innocuous dark olive green shirt. Probably handmade, it looked a bit like an old-style baseball jersey, with an iron-on number three in red on the front pocket. On the back it had a cheery serif script that read “Fuck Our Society”, flanked on either side by anarchy A’s in padlocks. You bet your ass I bought it.</p> +<figure class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/DSCF9320_01_I6dAsVS.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/DSCF9320_01_I6dAsVS_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/DSCF9320_01_I6dAsVS_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="Fuck Our Society t-shirt photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/DSCF9320_01_I6dAsVS.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Clearly this was before I started paying attention to fonts."> + </a> +<figcaption>Clearly this was before I started paying attention to fonts.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>I was in a band back then and I played quite a few shows in it. I’m pretty sure my friend Ruben asked me to play with his band on the side just because he wanted the shirt on stage with him. </p> +<p>This was Orange County CA in the mid to late 1990s, deviations from the norm simply didn’t happen. The shirt stood out. I didn’t wear it much. Wearing it was a kind of performance. And this site notwithstanding, I don’t generally live my life as a public performance. I haven’t worn the shirt since I moved back east in 1999.</p> +<p>Once, on the way to a show, we stopped at Trader Joe’s to grab a snack for the road and while we were standing in line I felt a tap on the shoulder. I had been conscious of wearing the shirt since I got out of the car so I turned around expecting some kind of confrontation, but it was a tiny older woman, not much over five feet tall, a grandmotherly figure who I had no doubt was about to express some offense at my shirt. But instead she looked me up and down and then smiled and said, “I like your shirt.” </p> +<p>I felt like that was probably the shirt’s high water mark. I don’t think I’ve worn it since. Why do I still have it? Fuck our society’s obsession with keeping things. I fired off an email to a friend I knew would want it and it’s gone.</p> +<p>This particular purge is probably the biggest I’ve ever done, both because we’ve been in this house the longest and because I’ve made the most money. Money, no matter how frugal you might be, seems to breed stuff. It’s not the purchases or the money that bother me though. Not even the dumb things like the $1300 TV that’s now worth essentially nothing. It’s the little things I did not stop myself from getting. It’s the lack of personal awareness they demonstrate. The old banjo that caught my eye at a junk shop outside of Nashville, the old mailing label and postage box set, the antique cards, the mediocre books that could have been checked out and returned and the coffee mugs. How many coffee mugs do I actually need? How many books am I reading right now?</p> +<p>All these little things are symptoms of my failure to appreciate things without possessing them. </p> +<p>I sold what I could on eBay. I took the books to a friend’s yard sale and looked at them on the ground there in a cardboard box before I finally realized there was nothing special about them at all. </p> +<p>The rest of the accumulation I pitched into boxes and dumped at my favorite local charity thrift store.</p> +<p>Not everything goes though. I’m not a minimalist counting up my possessions. Not yet anyway. The bus may not be huge, but it’s downright roomy compared to traveling with only a pack. We also have a storage unit for now. There are things I don’t want to throw away, but which also don’t belong in the bus. Like old photographs, which are probably the most exciting artifacts to stumble across in a moving dig.</p> +<p>It worries me sometimes that it’s always the same photographs I discover whenever I undertake these excavations. The photographs I have are a reasonable catalogue of my life from roughly when I dropped out of college until about 2001 when I switched to a digital camera. There are no physical artifacts documenting anything in my life for the last 15 years, save a handful of prints from our wedding. </p> +<p>On the plus side this keeps the entirety of my photo collection to single shoe box. But I wonder. I wonder how much fun it will be to dig through your parent’s hard drive in search of your youth. Will the hard drive even spin 50 years from now? Will there be an operating system and image viewers capable of reading all those zeros and ones? Do you have anything that could read the tape archives of 50 years ago? </p> +<p>I don’t normally advocate for buying stuff, but a <a href="http://instax.com/products/printer/">Fuji Instax printer</a> is on our short list of trip purchases. I want to leave my kids a record of their childhood that exists outside these digital walls.</p> +<p>That’s always the hard part of these excavations, figuring out what actually has personal value and what doesn’t. I find I’m often wrong. I thought the banjo and the books had value to me, but they don’t. Five years ago I almost threw out the photos. Now they’re the only thing I keep around.</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/2016/03/another-spring" rel="prev" title=" Another Spring">Another Spring</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere" rel="next" title=" Back From Somewhere">Back From Somewhere</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="168" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833425" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="9bbb90f256f9e900a0f955d2b31ea1d325eca4dd" 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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The longer you've been in one location the more stuff that's accumulated. As far as I can tell there is no real way to combat the detritus of the world seeping into your space, save cutting off all contact with the outside world. I imagine monasteries are generally immaculate; the rest of us get out the pick axes and clear the rubble.
+
+At first I spent a lot time thinking how hard it is to move, but then I realized it's probably no harder to move out than it was to move in. Moving out just happens to severely compress time. You acquire over the span of 10 years. You un-acquire in a matter of weeks.
+
+But in between the crap, the dirt as it were, there are the occasional shards of pottery and other things of interest.
+
+Many moons ago I was down in Laguna Beach, CA at the now long gone Tippecanoe's clothing store when I ran across a relatively innocuous dark olive green shirt. Probably handmade, it looked a bit like an old-style baseball jersey, with an iron-on number three in red on the front pocket. On the back it had a cheery serif script that read "Fuck Our Society", flanked on either side by anarchy A's in padlocks. You bet your ass I bought it.
+
+<img src="images/2017/DSCF9320_01_I6dAsVS.jpg" id="image-254" class="picfull caption" />
+
+I was in a band back then and I played quite a few shows in it. I'm pretty sure my friend Ruben asked me to play with his band on the side just because he wanted the shirt on stage with him.
+
+This was Orange County CA in the mid to late 1990s, deviations from the norm simply didn't happen. The shirt stood out. I didn't wear it much. Wearing it was a kind of performance. And this site notwithstanding, I don't generally live my life as a public performance. I haven't worn the shirt since I moved back east in 1999.
+
+Once, on the way to a show, we stopped at Trader Joe's to grab a snack for the road and while we were standing in line I felt a tap on the shoulder. I had been conscious of wearing the shirt since I got out of the car so I turned around expecting some kind of confrontation, but it was a tiny older woman, not much over five feet tall, a grandmotherly figure who I had no doubt was about to express some offense at my shirt. But instead she looked me up and down and then smiled and said, "I like your shirt."
+
+I felt like that was probably the shirt's high water mark. I don't think I've worn it since. Why do I still have it? Fuck our society's obsession with keeping things. I fired off an email to a friend I knew would want it and it's gone.
+
+This particular purge is probably the biggest I've ever done, both because we've been in this house the longest and because I've made the most money. Money, no matter how frugal you might be, seems to breed stuff. It's not the purchases or the money that bother me though. Not even the dumb things like the $1300 TV that's now worth essentially nothing. It's the little things I did not stop myself from getting. It's the lack of personal awareness they demonstrate. The old banjo that caught my eye at a junk shop outside of Nashville, the old mailing label and postage box set, the antique cards, the mediocre books that could have been checked out and returned and the coffee mugs. How many coffee mugs do I actually need? How many books am I reading right now?
+
+All these little things are symptoms of my failure to appreciate things without possessing them.
+
+I sold what I could on eBay. I took the books to a friend's yard sale and looked at them on the ground there in a cardboard box before I finally realized there was nothing special about them at all.
+
+The rest of the accumulation I pitched into boxes and dumped at my favorite local charity thrift store.
+
+Not everything goes though. I'm not a minimalist counting up my possessions. Not yet anyway. The bus may not be huge, but it's downright roomy compared to traveling with only a pack. We also have a storage unit for now. There are things I don't want to throw away, but which also don't belong in the bus. Like old photographs, which are probably the most exciting artifacts to stumble across in a moving dig.
+
+It worries me sometimes that it's always the same photographs I discover whenever I undertake these excavations. The photographs I have are a reasonable catalogue of my life from roughly when I dropped out of college until about 2001 when I switched to a digital camera. There are no physical artifacts documenting anything in my life for the last 15 years, save a handful of prints from our wedding.
+
+On the plus side this keeps the entirety of my photo collection to single shoe box. But I wonder. I wonder how much fun it will be to dig through your parent's hard drive in search of your youth. Will the hard drive even spin 50 years from now? Will there be an operating system and image viewers capable of reading all those zeros and ones? Do you have anything that could read the tape archives of 50 years ago?
+
+I don't normally advocate for buying stuff, but a [Fuji Instax printer](http://instax.com/products/printer/) is on our short list of trip purchases. I want to leave my kids a record of their childhood that exists outside these digital walls.
+
+That's always the hard part of these excavations, figuring out what actually has personal value and what doesn't. I find I'm often wrong. I thought the banjo and the books had value to me, but they don't. Five years ago I almost threw out the photos. Now they're the only thing I keep around. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/engine.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/engine.amp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3467d91 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/engine.amp @@ -0,0 +1,190 @@ + + +<!doctype html> +<html amp lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Engine</title> +<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/06/engine"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> + <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> + <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2016/06/engine"> + <meta name="twitter:description" content="The Travco is not starting. I have spark. I have compression. The missing ingredient in the basic trifecta of the internal combustion engines is fuel, probably the fuel pump. 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The missing ingredient in the basic trifecta of the internal combustion engines is fuel, probably the fuel pump. But seeing it and understanding it are different than actually making it work." /> + <meta property="article:published_time" content="2016-06-05T12:15:19" /> + <meta property="article:author" content="Luxagraf" /> + <meta property="og:site_name" content="Luxagraf" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/post-images/2016/bus-engine.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-engine_2016-06-05_154209_1170.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-engine_2016-06-05_154347_1320.jpg" /> + <meta property="og:locale" content="en_US" /> + + +<script type="application/ld+json"> +{ + "@context": "http://schema.org", + "@type": "BlogPosting", + "headline": "Engine", + "description": "The Travco is not starting. I have spark. I have compression. 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Start with a cutaway diagram of the Travco that slowly rotates in my head as it zooms into the gas tank in the rear and then follows the gas down the line toward the front to the right of the engine, drawn up into the fuel pump, pushed out and up, under the alternator to the top of the engine, through the fuel filter and into the carburetor where it mixes with air and dives down until it ignites with a spark. </p> +<p>This little movie runs on a loop in my head. It invades everything I do. I see it sitting at stoplights, a similar path of electricity out of the breaker, up the light pole and to the switch which sends it to the top lens, which happens to be red. </p> +<p>I see it doing the dishes. The water leaving the tower, flowing down increasingly narrower pipes, off the main street line and into my hot water tank where it sits until a flick of the faucet calls it up through more pipes and out onto my hands.</p> +<p>Everything flows like this. Every system around us, when it works, does something similar.</p> +<p>Right now the Travco does not work. I can see it in my head and yet I cannot make it work. It has to be the fuel pump. I have spark, I have compression, the missing ingredient in the basic trifecta of the internal combustion engines is fuel. </p> +<p>But seeing it and understanding it are different than actually solving the problem, making it work. This is basic difference between architects and builders. Builders have to solve problems in the real world that architects will never encounter.</p> +<figure class="picfull"> +<amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="883" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-engine_2016-06-05_154347_1320.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-engine_2016-06-05_154347_1320.jpg 1320w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-engine_2016-06-05_154347_680.jpg 680w" width="1320"></amp-img> +<figcaption>I'm never short of help.</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>Days pass. I continue to fail with the bus. The real world of by time constraints, pay checks that don't arrive, other commitments, weather. I work on other things. Hang wall panels, sand and apply finish. I do things I know I know how to do. More days pass. Still the bus doesn't start. I get sullen. My wife thinks I'm mad all the time. I'm not. I'm thinking about the engine, I can't get it out of my head. It reminds me of the first time I tried to write some code. It was fun, but it also was not. </p> +<p>Problem solving seems fun after the problem is solved. During the actual solving it's less fun. Food, sleep, these things seem unimportant when I have a problem that needs solving stuck in my head. I tend to get obsessed about things. Even when I don't want to. It's one of the reasons I don't do much programming anymore. I never let things go until I solve the problem to my satisfaction. Of course breaking a web server doesn't cost much relative to damaging an engine, so with the bus the stakes are much higher, the sullen thinking phase I pass through is correspondingly more sullen and requires more concentration. </p> +<p>I consult my friend Jimmy, double check with him that my plan is sane. He says it is and assures me that there's little chance I'll screw anything up. So I crawl back under the bus for another soaking of gasoline and, after much swearing and muscle cramping, somehow manage to get the new fuel pump properly seated under the eccentric on the camshaft and anchored into place. Then I replace all the fuel lines and filter for good measure. Everything from the fuel pump to the carburetor is now my doing. </p> +<p>I step back and get the gasoline soaked clothes off and take a shower. I want these ten minutes of thinking I fixed it to last, which turn out to be a good thing because when I get back in the bus and fire it up and... it still won't start. Damnit.</p> +<p>The is the most demoralizing thing I know of for anyone trying to DIY something. That moment when it should work, but it doesn't. Damnit. I go back to the internet and do some more searching. I message Jimmy again. On a whim I decided maybe I didn't crank it enough to get all the air out of the new lines. So I go back and instead of starter fluid in the carb I go straight gasoline, which, predictably, starts the engine. And then it dies when that gas is consumed. Goddammit.</p> +<p>I decide try one last time, with enough gasoline to possibly set the whole engine on fire. But that doesn't happen. Instead it starts and then it keeps running. This is when it would nice if life had a sound effects choir to ring out something triumphant. But there's nothing. Just me, sitting in the driver's seat enjoying the smell of gasoline and the roar of an engine that has neither exhaust manifolds nor muffler. And it's a damn fine roar. For now.</p> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/engine.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/engine.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8036cec --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/engine.html @@ -0,0 +1,461 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Engine - 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="The Travco is not starting. I have spark. I have compression. The missing ingredient in the basic trifecta of the internal combustion engines is fuel, probably the fuel pump. 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Start with a cutaway diagram of the Travco that slowly rotates in my head as it zooms into the gas tank in the rear and then follows the gas down the line toward the front to the right of the engine, drawn up into the fuel pump, pushed out and up, under the alternator to the top of the engine, through the fuel filter and into the carburetor where it mixes with air and dives down until it ignites with a spark. </p> +<p>This little movie runs on a loop in my head. It invades everything I do. I see it sitting at stoplights, a similar path of electricity out of the breaker, up the light pole and to the switch which sends it to the top lens, which happens to be red. </p> +<p>I see it doing the dishes. The water leaving the tower, flowing down increasingly narrower pipes, off the main street line and into my hot water tank where it sits until a flick of the faucet calls it up through more pipes and out onto my hands.</p> +<p>Everything flows like this. Every system around us, when it works, does something similar.</p> +<p>Right now the Travco does not work. I can see it in my head and yet I cannot make it work. It has to be the fuel pump. I have spark, I have compression, the missing ingredient in the basic trifecta of the internal combustion engines is fuel. </p> +<p>But seeing it and understanding it are different than actually solving the problem, making it work. This is basic difference between architects and builders. Builders have to solve problems in the real world that architects will never encounter.</p> +<figure class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-06-05_154347.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/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-06-05_154347_pic5.jpg 648w" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-06-05_154347.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="I'm never short of help."> + </a> +<figcaption>I’m never short of help.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Days pass. I continue to fail with the bus. The real world of by time constraints, pay checks that don’t arrive, other commitments, weather. I work on other things. Hang wall panels, sand and apply finish. I do things I know I know how to do. More days pass. Still the bus doesn’t start. I get sullen. My wife thinks I’m mad all the time. I’m not. I’m thinking about the engine, I can’t get it out of my head. It reminds me of the first time I tried to write some code. It was fun, but it also was not. </p> +<p>Problem solving seems fun after the problem is solved. During the actual solving it’s less fun. Food, sleep, these things seem unimportant when I have a problem that needs solving stuck in my head. I tend to get obsessed about things. Even when I don’t want to. It’s one of the reasons I don’t do much programming anymore. I never let things go until I solve the problem to my satisfaction. Of course breaking a web server doesn’t cost much relative to damaging an engine, so with the bus the stakes are much higher, the sullen thinking phase I pass through is correspondingly more sullen and requires more concentration. </p> +<p>I consult my friend Jimmy, double check with him that my plan is sane. He says it is and assures me that there’s little chance I’ll screw anything up. So I crawl back under the bus for another soaking of gasoline and, after much swearing and muscle cramping, somehow manage to get the new fuel pump properly seated under the eccentric on the camshaft and anchored into place. Then I replace all the fuel lines and filter for good measure. Everything from the fuel pump to the carburetor is now my doing. </p> +<p>I step back and get the gasoline soaked clothes off and take a shower. I want these ten minutes of thinking I fixed it to last, which turn out to be a good thing because when I get back in the bus and fire it up and… it still won’t start. Damnit.</p> +<p>The is the most demoralizing thing I know of for anyone trying to DIY something. That moment when it should work, but it doesn’t. Damnit. I go back to the internet and do some more searching. I message Jimmy again. On a whim I decided maybe I didn’t crank it enough to get all the air out of the new lines. So I go back and instead of starter fluid in the carb I go straight gasoline, which, predictably, starts the engine. And then it dies when that gas is consumed. Goddammit.</p> +<p>I decide try one last time, with enough gasoline to possibly set the whole engine on fire. But that doesn’t happen. Instead it starts and then it keeps running. This is when it would nice if life had a sound effects choir to ring out something triumphant. But there’s nothing. Just me, sitting in the driver’s seat enjoying the smell of gasoline and the roar of an engine that has neither exhaust manifolds nor muffler. And it’s a damn fine roar. For now.</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/2016/05/back-from-somewhere" rel="prev" title=" Back From Somewhere">Back From Somewhere</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do" rel="next" title=" What Are You Going to Do?">What Are You Going to Do?</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<p class="comments--header">2 Comments</p> + + + + + + + <div class="comments--wrapper"> + + <div id="comment-1940" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="f87b6cc4d4850bc41b1a973bddfc42c9"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/f87b6cc4d4850bc41b1a973bddfc42c9.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for marilyn" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b><a href="http://mmmarilyn.net" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">marilyn</a></b></span> + <span class="when">June 10, 2016 at 11:41 a.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>“The is the most demoralizing thing I know of for anyone trying to DIY something. That moment when it should work, but it doesn’t.”</p> +<p>Yes. For code too, for sure. Somehow the harder this moment is, the more thrilling the roar in the end, though.</p> + + </div> + </div> + + <div id="comment-1974" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> + <span class="when">July 12, 2016 at 9:28 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>True. If you don’t suffer it isn’t really fun. An old post on moxie.org says, “The best moments of my life, I never want to live again.” There’s quite a few layers to that, but I think that frustration before success is definitely part of it.</p> + + </div> + </div> + + </div> + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper comment-form-border"> + +<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="170" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833424" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="0a872ccac6aff724776b3ab89f14502e89fbd140" 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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+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-06-05_154209.jpg" id="image-111" class="picwide" />
+
+I'd like to make a movie of it. Start with a cutaway diagram of the Travco that slowly rotates in my head as it zooms into the gas tank in the rear and then follows the gas down the line toward the front to the right of the engine, drawn up into the fuel pump, pushed out and up, under the alternator to the top of the engine, through the fuel filter and into the carburetor where it mixes with air and dives down until it ignites with a spark.
+
+This little movie runs on a loop in my head. It invades everything I do. I see it sitting at stoplights, a similar path of electricity out of the breaker, up the light pole and to the switch which sends it to the top lens, which happens to be red.
+
+I see it doing the dishes. The water leaving the tower, flowing down increasingly narrower pipes, off the main street line and into my hot water tank where it sits until a flick of the faucet calls it up through more pipes and out onto my hands.
+
+Everything flows like this. Every system around us, when it works, does something similar.
+
+Right now the Travco does not work. I can see it in my head and yet I cannot make it work. It has to be the fuel pump. I have spark, I have compression, the missing ingredient in the basic trifecta of the internal combustion engines is fuel.
+
+But seeing it and understanding it are different than actually solving the problem, making it work. This is basic difference between architects and builders. Builders have to solve problems in the real world that architects will never encounter.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-06-05_154347.jpg" id="image-112" class="picfull caption" />
+
+Days pass. I continue to fail with the bus. The real world of by time constraints, pay checks that don't arrive, other commitments, weather. I work on other things. Hang wall panels, sand and apply finish. I do things I know I know how to do. More days pass. Still the bus doesn't start. I get sullen. My wife thinks I'm mad all the time. I'm not. I'm thinking about the engine, I can't get it out of my head. It reminds me of the first time I tried to write some code. It was fun, but it also was not.
+
+Problem solving seems fun after the problem is solved. During the actual solving it's less fun. Food, sleep, these things seem unimportant when I have a problem that needs solving stuck in my head. I tend to get obsessed about things. Even when I don't want to. It's one of the reasons I don't do much programming anymore. I never let things go until I solve the problem to my satisfaction. Of course breaking a web server doesn't cost much relative to damaging an engine, so with the bus the stakes are much higher, the sullen thinking phase I pass through is correspondingly more sullen and requires more concentration.
+
+I consult my friend Jimmy, double check with him that my plan is sane. He says it is and assures me that there's little chance I'll screw anything up. So I crawl back under the bus for another soaking of gasoline and, after much swearing and muscle cramping, somehow manage to get the new fuel pump properly seated under the eccentric on the camshaft and anchored into place. Then I replace all the fuel lines and filter for good measure. Everything from the fuel pump to the carburetor is now my doing.
+
+I step back and get the gasoline soaked clothes off and take a shower. I want these ten minutes of thinking I fixed it to last, which turn out to be a good thing because when I get back in the bus and fire it up and... it still won't start. Damnit.
+
+The is the most demoralizing thing I know of for anyone trying to DIY something. That moment when it should work, but it doesn't. Damnit. I go back to the internet and do some more searching. I message Jimmy again. On a whim I decided maybe I didn't crank it enough to get all the air out of the new lines. So I go back and instead of starter fluid in the carb I go straight gasoline, which, predictably, starts the engine. And then it dies when that gas is consumed. Goddammit.
+
+I decide try one last time, with enough gasoline to possibly set the whole engine on fire. But that doesn't happen. Instead it starts and then it keeps running. This is when it would nice if life had a sound effects choir to ring out something triumphant. But there's nothing. Just me, sitting in the driver's seat enjoying the smell of gasoline and the roar of an engine that has neither exhaust manifolds nor muffler. And it's a damn fine roar. For now. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8673692 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/06/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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>June</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: June 2016</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/06/engine" title="Engine">Engine</a> + <time datetime="2016-06-05T12:15:19-04:00">Jun 05, 2016</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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Our original plan was to leave town in March. Then when March sailed right by and the bus wasn't done yet, and the house was in no condition to sell. So we moved things back to June. Then June came and went. It's about to be September, which puts us probably into October. I'm tempted to say that this time I'm reasonably confident we'll do it, but I've said that before. + b</p> +<figure class="picwide"> +<amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="716" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0810_172_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0810_172_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0810_172_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0810_172_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img> +<figcaption>The open road is calling...</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>Some of the delays are a result of things beyond my control, notably clients that didn't pay on time (a perpetual problem for anyone who works for themselves), which meant I couldn't buy things I needed to restore the bus. But there were plenty of things that were in my control.</p> +<p>I have a very particular vision of how the bus is going to look. I want it to be perfect. I want it to be The Best. But that old saying that "perfect is the enemy of good enough" turns out to be very true. I started out needing to have everything perfect, but that's cost us at least a month of time on the road. </p> +<p>I'm about done with perfect. I just want to go.</p> +<p>I've been thinking about an old post on Moxie Marlinspike's blog about something he calls "<a href="https://moxie.org/blog/the-worst/">The Worst</a>." To understand the rest of what I'm going to say you need to follow that link and read it, but here's a brief quote to illustrate the difference between The Best and The Worst:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>The basic premise of the worst is that both ideas and material possessions should be tools that serve us, rather than things we live in service to. When that relationship with material possessions is inverted, such that we end up living in service to them, the result is consumerism. When that relationship with ideas is inverted, the result is ideology or religion.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I'm not cutting corners on the bus. I still plan to adhere to my original vision. To me The Worst doesn't mean half-ass, it means being okay with incomplete, it means figuring it out as you go, perfecting things based on actual experience. I've started to incorporate that idea of having the bus be in service to us rather than me in service to it more. We're ready to go and the bus isn't done. And that's okay. We'll figure out the rest as we go. That's part of the adventure.</p> +<p>Currently there's no floor, no water tank, no propane, no solar power, and all the seats still need to be recovered. Of those though only two will likely get done before we leave. We'll recover the seats and we'll put in a floor. Everything else can be done as we go. </p> +<p>Everything has costs. In this case it's money and time. If you have to have a water tank before you leave it's going to cost you money, which in turn is going to cost you time. Or you could grab a huge water jug for $5 from Home Depot and make do until you can get a proper water tank. In some cases not only does embracing "good enough for now" get you on the road faster, it can also save you money.</p> +<p>A lot of the expense of a water tank is the shipping. The tank we want is only about $400, but it costs another $250 to ship it to us. If you're willing to hit the road without a water tank you can drive to the water tank production facility and pick it up yourself. This is also true of awnings, windows and paint jobs, all of which we long ago decided we'd do as we go.</p> +<p>Because if you have to have everything perfect you're never going to go. </p> +<p>And deep down I suspect that my need for perfect is a kind of excuse to not go. A way of avoiding all the fear that comes with leaving. Fear that if it's not perfect it won't work. Fear that something will go wrong. Whatever. Something will go wrong anyway. And you know what? A lot of times it's the things that go wrong that turn out to be the most fun. Maybe not at the time, but later.</p> +<p>It's impossible to overcome that fear of discomfort. It's natural. You can't "get past it"; you have to learn to live with it. </p> +<p>It helps that, at this point in the evolution of our culture, I think those of us in the privileged position of being able to do this in the first place could all use a bit of discomfort. Countless people all over the world are living in situations that make our worst moments seem like the petty, insignificant discomforts they are. It helps to put things in perspective, and no matter how you frame it, we're incredibly lucky to be in the position we're in. We didn't even earn most of the privilege we enjoy in this country. Our comfort and possibilities are largely accidents of birth. </p> +<p>Even in comparison to our very recent ancestors we have it easy. My great grandmother raised eight children alone in a one bedroom 800 square foot house with no air conditioning in Tucson AZ. My wife's mother picked cotton from the time she was a little girl. </p> +<p>We are soft. We don't even know what discomfort is, let alone the host of horrors visited upon innocent people all over the world every day. </p> +<p>We are incredibly thankful to be able to embrace whatever discomfort we might encounter. To chose to be uncomfortable is a luxury, perhaps the greatest luxury. I'm pretty sure my great grandmother would have taken a 4000 ft home with central air if someone had given it to her, and I suspect my mother-in-law would just as soon have not spent her childhood picking cotton. They weren't choosing discomfort, it was just life. I'm less sure that either would have exchanged the experience though.</p> +<p>There's a line in that piece I linked to earlier, "the best moments of my life, I never want to live again." I have feeling my great grandmother would agree. It goes on say:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>The best means waiting, planning, researching, and saving until one can acquire the perfect equipment for a given task. Partisans of the best will probably never end up accidentally riding a freight train 1000 miles in the wrong direction, or making a new life-long friend while panhandling after losing everything in Transnistria, or surreptitiously living under a desk in an office long after their internship has run out — simply because optimizing for the best probably does not leave enough room for those mistakes. Even if the most stalwart advocates of the worst would never actually recommend choosing to put oneself in those situations intentionally, they probably wouldn't give them up either.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If you have the luxury of being able to embrace discomfort, take it. Forget perfect and just go, even if "go" is purely metaphorical. You'll figure it out along the way.</p> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..53cc630 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst.html @@ -0,0 +1,410 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Change Of Ideas (The Worst) - 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=""The best means waiting, planning, researching, and saving until one can acquire the perfect equipment for a given task." 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Our original plan was to leave town in March. Then when March sailed right by and the bus wasn’t done yet, and the house was in no condition to sell. So we moved things back to June. Then June came and went. It’s about to be September, which puts us probably into October. I’m tempted to say that this time I’m reasonably confident we’ll do it, but I’ve said that before.</p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/death_valley_Apr0710_016.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/death_valley_Apr0710_016_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0710_016_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0710_016_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/death_valley_Apr0710_016_picwide-med.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/death_valley_Apr0710_016.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="The open road is calling..."> + </a> +<figcaption>The open road is calling…</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Some of the delays are a result of things beyond my control, notably clients that didn’t pay on time (a perpetual problem for anyone who works for themselves), which meant I couldn’t buy things I needed to restore the bus. But there were plenty of things that were in my control.</p> +<p>I have a very particular vision of how the bus is going to look. I want it to be perfect. I want it to be The Best. But that old saying that “perfect is the enemy of good enough” turns out to be very true. I started out needing to have everything perfect, but that’s cost us at least a month of time on the road. </p> +<p>I’m about done with perfect. I just want to go.</p> +<p>I’ve been thinking about an old post on Moxie Marlinspike’s blog about something he calls “<a href="https://moxie.org/blog/the-worst/">The Worst</a>.” To understand the rest of what I’m going to say you need to follow that link and read it, but here’s a brief quote to illustrate the difference between The Best and The Worst:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>The basic premise of the worst is that both ideas and material possessions should be tools that serve us, rather than things we live in service to. When that relationship with material possessions is inverted, such that we end up living in service to them, the result is consumerism. When that relationship with ideas is inverted, the result is ideology or religion.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I’m not cutting corners on the bus. I still plan to adhere to my original vision. To me The Worst doesn’t mean half-ass, it means being okay with incomplete, it means figuring it out as you go, perfecting things based on actual experience. I’ve started to incorporate that idea of having the bus be in service to us rather than me in service to it more. We’re ready to go and the bus isn’t done. And that’s okay. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. That’s part of the adventure.</p> +<p>Currently there’s no floor, no water tank, no propane, no solar power, and all the seats still need to be recovered. Of those though only two will likely get done before we leave. We’ll recover the seats and we’ll put in a floor. Everything else can be done as we go. </p> +<p>Everything has costs. In this case it’s money and time. If you have to have a water tank before you leave it’s going to cost you money, which in turn is going to cost you time. Or you could grab a huge water jug for $5 from Home Depot and make do until you can get a proper water tank. In some cases not only does embracing “good enough for now” get you on the road faster, it can also save you money.</p> +<p>A lot of the expense of a water tank is the shipping. The tank we want is only about $400, but it costs another $250 to ship it to us. If you’re willing to hit the road without a water tank you can drive to the water tank production facility and pick it up yourself. This is also true of awnings, windows and paint jobs, all of which we long ago decided we’d do as we go.</p> +<p>Because if you have to have everything perfect you’re never going to go. </p> +<p>And deep down I suspect that my need for perfect is a kind of excuse to not go. A way of avoiding all the fear that comes with leaving. Fear that if it’s not perfect it won’t work. Fear that something will go wrong. Whatever. Something will go wrong anyway. And you know what? A lot of times it’s the things that go wrong that turn out to be the most fun. Maybe not at the time, but later.</p> +<p>It’s impossible to overcome that fear of discomfort. It’s natural. You can’t “get past it”; you have to learn to live with it. </p> +<p>It helps that, at this point in the evolution of our culture, I think those of us in the privileged position of being able to do this in the first place could all use a bit of discomfort. Countless people all over the world are living in situations that make our worst moments seem like the petty, insignificant discomforts they are. It helps to put things in perspective, and no matter how you frame it, we’re incredibly lucky to be in the position we’re in. We didn’t even earn most of the privilege we enjoy in this country. Our comfort and possibilities are largely accidents of birth. </p> +<p>Even in comparison to our very recent ancestors we have it easy. My great grandmother raised eight children alone in a one bedroom 800 square foot house with no air conditioning in Tucson AZ. My wife’s mother picked cotton from the time she was a little girl. </p> +<p>We are soft. We don’t even know what discomfort is, let alone the host of horrors visited upon innocent people all over the world every day. </p> +<p>We are incredibly thankful to be able to embrace whatever discomfort we might encounter. To chose to be uncomfortable is a luxury, perhaps the greatest luxury. I’m pretty sure my great grandmother would have taken a 4000 ft home with central air if someone had given it to her, and I suspect my mother-in-law would just as soon have not spent her childhood picking cotton. They weren’t choosing discomfort, it was just life. I’m less sure that either would have exchanged the experience though.</p> +<p>There’s a line in that piece I linked to earlier, “the best moments of my life, I never want to live again.” I have feeling my great grandmother would agree. It goes on say:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>The best means waiting, planning, researching, and saving until one can acquire the perfect equipment for a given task. Partisans of the best will probably never end up accidentally riding a freight train 1000 miles in the wrong direction, or making a new life-long friend while panhandling after losing everything in Transnistria, or surreptitiously living under a desk in an office long after their internship has run out — simply because optimizing for the best probably does not leave enough room for those mistakes. Even if the most stalwart advocates of the worst would never actually recommend choosing to put oneself in those situations intentionally, they probably wouldn’t give them up either.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If you have the luxury of being able to embrace discomfort, take it. Forget perfect and just go, even if “go” is purely metaphorical. You’ll figure it out along the way.</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/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do" rel="prev" title=" What Are You Going to Do?">What Are You Going to Do?</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/autumn-bus-update" rel="next" title=" Autumn Bus Update">Autumn Bus Update</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="173" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833422" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="23d2b228720b02e65011068d314adb8f5594b011" 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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Our original plan was to leave town in March. Then when March sailed right by and the bus wasn't done yet, and the house was in no condition to sell. So we moved things back to June. Then June came and went. It's about to be September, which puts us probably into October. I'm tempted to say that this time I'm reasonably confident we'll do it, but I've said that before.
+
+<img src="images/2017/death_valley_Apr0710_016.jpg" id="image-116" class="picwide caption" />
+
+Some of the delays are a result of things beyond my control, notably clients that didn't pay on time (a perpetual problem for anyone who works for themselves), which meant I couldn't buy things I needed to restore the bus. But there were plenty of things that were in my control.
+
+I have a very particular vision of how the bus is going to look. I want it to be perfect. I want it to be The Best. But that old saying that "perfect is the enemy of good enough" turns out to be very true. I started out needing to have everything perfect, but that's cost us at least a month of time on the road.
+
+I'm about done with perfect. I just want to go.
+
+I've been thinking about an old post on Moxie Marlinspike's blog about something he calls "[The Worst](https://moxie.org/blog/the-worst/)." To understand the rest of what I'm going to say you need to follow that link and read it, but here's a brief quote to illustrate the difference between The Best and The Worst:
+
+>The basic premise of the worst is that both ideas and material possessions should be tools that serve us, rather than things we live in service to. When that relationship with material possessions is inverted, such that we end up living in service to them, the result is consumerism. When that relationship with ideas is inverted, the result is ideology or religion.
+
+I'm not cutting corners on the bus. I still plan to adhere to my original vision. To me The Worst doesn't mean half-ass, it means being okay with incomplete, it means figuring it out as you go, perfecting things based on actual experience. I've started to incorporate that idea of having the bus be in service to us rather than me in service to it more. We're ready to go and the bus isn't done. And that's okay. We'll figure out the rest as we go. That's part of the adventure.
+
+Currently there's no floor, no water tank, no propane, no solar power, and all the seats still need to be recovered. Of those though only two will likely get done before we leave. We'll recover the seats and we'll put in a floor. Everything else can be done as we go.
+
+Everything has costs. In this case it's money and time. If you have to have a water tank before you leave it's going to cost you money, which in turn is going to cost you time. Or you could grab a huge water jug for $5 from Home Depot and make do until you can get a proper water tank. In some cases not only does embracing "good enough for now" get you on the road faster, it can also save you money.
+
+A lot of the expense of a water tank is the shipping. The tank we want is only about $400, but it costs another $250 to ship it to us. If you're willing to hit the road without a water tank you can drive to the water tank production facility and pick it up yourself. This is also true of awnings, windows and paint jobs, all of which we long ago decided we'd do as we go.
+
+Because if you have to have everything perfect you're never going to go.
+
+And deep down I suspect that my need for perfect is a kind of excuse to not go. A way of avoiding all the fear that comes with leaving. Fear that if it's not perfect it won't work. Fear that something will go wrong. Whatever. Something will go wrong anyway. And you know what? A lot of times it's the things that go wrong that turn out to be the most fun. Maybe not at the time, but later.
+
+It's impossible to overcome that fear of discomfort. It's natural. You can't "get past it"; you have to learn to live with it.
+
+It helps that, at this point in the evolution of our culture, I think those of us in the privileged position of being able to do this in the first place could all use a bit of discomfort. Countless people all over the world are living in situations that make our worst moments seem like the petty, insignificant discomforts they are. It helps to put things in perspective, and no matter how you frame it, we're incredibly lucky to be in the position we're in. We didn't even earn most of the privilege we enjoy in this country. Our comfort and possibilities are largely accidents of birth.
+
+Even in comparison to our very recent ancestors we have it easy. My great grandmother raised eight children alone in a one bedroom 800 square foot house with no air conditioning in Tucson AZ. My wife's mother picked cotton from the time she was a little girl.
+
+We are soft. We don't even know what discomfort is, let alone the host of horrors visited upon innocent people all over the world every day.
+
+We are incredibly thankful to be able to embrace whatever discomfort we might encounter. To chose to be uncomfortable is a luxury, perhaps the greatest luxury. I'm pretty sure my great grandmother would have taken a 4000 ft home with central air if someone had given it to her, and I suspect my mother-in-law would just as soon have not spent her childhood picking cotton. They weren't choosing discomfort, it was just life. I'm less sure that either would have exchanged the experience though.
+
+There's a line in that piece I linked to earlier, "the best moments of my life, I never want to live again." I have feeling my great grandmother would agree. It goes on say:
+
+> The best means waiting, planning, researching, and saving until one can acquire the perfect equipment for a given task. Partisans of the best will probably never end up accidentally riding a freight train 1000 miles in the wrong direction, or making a new life-long friend while panhandling after losing everything in Transnistria, or surreptitiously living under a desk in an office long after their internship has run out — simply because optimizing for the best probably does not leave enough room for those mistakes. Even if the most stalwart advocates of the worst would never actually recommend choosing to put oneself in those situations intentionally, they probably wouldn't give them up either.
+
+If you have the luxury of being able to embrace discomfort, take it. Forget perfect and just go, even if "go" is purely metaphorical. You'll figure it out along the way. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..418bdc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,107 @@ +<!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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>July</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: July 2016</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst" title="Change of Ideas (The Worst)">Change of Ideas (The Worst)</a> + <time datetime="2016-07-14T15:37:09-04:00">Jul 14, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do" title="What Are You Going to Do?">What Are You Going to Do?</a> + <time datetime="2016-07-12T12:56:29-04:00">Jul 12, 2016</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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Most of them revolve around some form of, but, but but... <em>what will you do without a house? What will you do when that thing breaks down? What will you do when...</em></p> +<p>Rather than answer everyone individually I thought I'd answer all those questions here, as best I can: <strong><em>I don't know</em></strong>.</p> +<p>And I'm not particularly worried about it. I don't know what we'll do without a house, because we have a house. It's just somewhat smaller than the average American dwelling and comes with an engine.</p> +<p>And when it breaks I suspect we'll stop by the side of the road and spend some time sweating, swearing, scratching our heads, failing, asking more experienced people questions, failing some more, sweating some more, and maybe even end up taking a near bath in gasoline. And then we might even have to walk somewhere and find someone smarter and more experienced to help us. Then, eventually, we'll probably get it running again. </p> +<p>Then again it could totally break down into an unfixable hunk of fiberglass and metal that has to towed to the nearest scrapyard. It could burst into flames at a stoplight. It could drop a transmission trying to downshift its way up a hill. A million things could go wrong. </p> +<p>But a million things can always go wrong, the only thing you get worrying about them is an anxiety attack. I find it more useful to carry a reasonable amount of tools and deal with things as they come. In my experience so far the future is seldom as grim as our fears<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>.</p> +<p>What if though? That's the action-killing nag at the back of all our minds. I have it too. You don't think I worry about these things? I do. I know of a Travco that really did burst into flames at a stoplight. It is what it is though. It's not going to stop me from going on this trip. Because you know what? I know of hundreds of Travcos that haven't burst into flames. That one is scary, but it's only one. </p> +<p>A whole lot of houses burst into flames too, yet most of us don't sit around worrying about that. Instead we do what practical things we can, unplug appliances when we're not using them, install new breakers, keep an eye on the candles and so on, and get on with our lives. In the end we manage to ignore the fact that <a href="http://www.nfpa.org/news-and-research/news-and-media/press-room/news-releases/2013/seven-people-die-each-day-in-reported-us-home-fires">seven people a day die in house fires</a> and just live.</p> +<p>It all comes back to comfort, the ultimate comfort, the little lie we tell ourselves: if I just stay where I am, physically, metaphysically, metaphorically, then I will be safe. It's a nice fiction that helps get all that potential anxiety out of the way, but it's still a fiction.</p> +<p>My problem with that logic is that clinging to a life of "security" at the expense of living the way you want will fail you twice. Not only are you missing out on the life you want to have, but even the security you think you're getting in exchange for foregoing that life turns out to be an illusion. The extra irony is that there's never been a safer time to be alive, yet we're all worried about the lion that might be lurking in the grass. Old habits die hard.</p> +<p>Jon Krakauer's <cite>Into the Wild</cite> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/511021-nothing-is-more-damaging-to-the-adventurous-spirit-within-a">quotes</a> a letter <a href="http://www.christophermccandless.info/">Christopher McCandless</a> wrote to a friend in which he says: </p> +<blockquote> +<p>nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Travel is certainly not the only way to have an endlessly changing horizon, at least metaphorically speaking. I'm not suggesting that everyone should sell their house and travel. But I am suggesting that it might be a good time to stop and take a close look at your life and make sure that fear isn't holding you back from what you want. For me deciding to travel is easy, but I still have plenty of useless fear about other stuff. I was terrified to have kids. I probably never would have had them if it weren't for my wife assuring me that we could do it. And we did. And it was the best thing I've ever done. Not a single one of my fears turned out to be accurate.</p> +<p>Traveling isn't the only way to live, but it is one way. And for us it's one that's the most immediate and exciting right now. We may not have a house, we may not have much stuff, we may break down, we may get stuck, we may be uncomfortable. That's okay. I believe we'll make it. Somewhere anyway.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr/> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>There are exceptions. Global warming looks to be every bit as grim as we imagine. War, violence in general, also very grim. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p> +</li> +</ol> +</div> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e94fa2d --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do.html @@ -0,0 +1,450 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>What Are You Going To Do? - 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="What are we going to do without a house? What will we do if the bus breaks down? I don't know. 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Most of them revolve around some form of, but, but but… <em>what will you do without a house? What will you do when that thing breaks down? What will you do when…</em></p> +<p>Rather than answer everyone individually I thought I’d answer all those questions here, as best I can: <strong><em>I don’t know</em></strong>.</p> +<p>And I’m not particularly worried about it. I don’t know what we’ll do without a house, because we have a house. It’s just somewhat smaller than the average American dwelling and comes with an engine.</p> +<p>And when it breaks I suspect we’ll stop by the side of the road and spend some time sweating, swearing, scratching our heads, failing, asking more experienced people questions, failing some more, sweating some more, and maybe even end up taking a near bath in gasoline. And then we might even have to walk somewhere and find someone smarter and more experienced to help us. Then, eventually, we’ll probably get it running again. </p> +<p>Then again it could totally break down into an unfixable hunk of fiberglass and metal that has to towed to the nearest scrapyard. It could burst into flames at a stoplight. It could drop a transmission trying to downshift its way up a hill. A million things could go wrong. </p> +<p>But a million things can always go wrong, the only thing you get worrying about them is an anxiety attack. I find it more useful to carry a reasonable amount of tools and deal with things as they come. In my experience so far the future is seldom as grim as our fears<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>.</p> +<p>What if though? That’s the action-killing nag at the back of all our minds. I have it too. You don’t think I worry about these things? I do. I know of a Travco that really did burst into flames at a stoplight. It is what it is though. It’s not going to stop me from going on this trip. Because you know what? I know of hundreds of Travcos that haven’t burst into flames. That one is scary, but it’s only one. </p> +<p>A whole lot of houses burst into flames too, yet most of us don’t sit around worrying about that. Instead we do what practical things we can, unplug appliances when we’re not using them, install new breakers, keep an eye on the candles and so on, and get on with our lives. In the end we manage to ignore the fact that <a href="http://www.nfpa.org/news-and-research/news-and-media/press-room/news-releases/2013/seven-people-die-each-day-in-reported-us-home-fires">seven people a day die in house fires</a> and just live.</p> +<p>It all comes back to comfort, the ultimate comfort, the little lie we tell ourselves: if I just stay where I am, physically, metaphysically, metaphorically, then I will be safe. It’s a nice fiction that helps get all that potential anxiety out of the way, but it’s still a fiction.</p> +<p>My problem with that logic is that clinging to a life of “security” at the expense of living the way you want will fail you twice. Not only are you missing out on the life you want to have, but even the security you think you’re getting in exchange for foregoing that life turns out to be an illusion. The extra irony is that there’s never been a safer time to be alive, yet we’re all worried about the lion that might be lurking in the grass. Old habits die hard.</p> +<p>Jon Krakauer’s <cite>Into the Wild</cite> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/511021-nothing-is-more-damaging-to-the-adventurous-spirit-within-a">quotes</a> a letter <a href="http://www.christophermccandless.info/">Christopher McCandless</a> wrote to a friend in which he says: </p> +<blockquote> +<p>nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Travel is certainly not the only way to have an endlessly changing horizon, at least metaphorically speaking. I’m not suggesting that everyone should sell their house and travel. But I am suggesting that it might be a good time to stop and take a close look at your life and make sure that fear isn’t holding you back from what you want. For me deciding to travel is easy, but I still have plenty of useless fear about other stuff. I was terrified to have kids. I probably never would have had them if it weren’t for my wife assuring me that we could do it. And we did. And it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Not a single one of my fears turned out to be accurate.</p> +<p>Traveling isn’t the only way to live, but it is one way. And for us it’s one that’s the most immediate and exciting right now. We may not have a house, we may not have much stuff, we may break down, we may get stuck, we may be uncomfortable. That’s okay. I believe we’ll make it. Somewhere anyway.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>There are exceptions. Global warming looks to be every bit as grim as we imagine. War, violence in general, also very grim. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</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> + </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/2016/06/engine" rel="prev" title=" Engine">Engine</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst" rel="next" title=" Change of Ideas (The Worst)">Change of Ideas (The Worst)</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<p class="comments--header">1 Comment</p> + + + + + + + <div class="comments--wrapper"> + + <div id="comment-1988" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="ca2d9c054092d55110fee77d42800525"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/ca2d9c054092d55110fee77d42800525.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Denise Meyers" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b>Denise Meyers</b></span> + <span class="when">July 29, 2016 at 4:22 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>As the previous owner of this Travco, it fills me with such joy to know that you are fulfilling a lifelong dream, that you know there is no percentage at all in playing it safe because life is short, and that there is no room for fear in a life well spent. I love that you are teaching your children to be fearless by example and I can’t WAIT to see where your journey takes you. And the Travco!</p> + + </div> + </div> + + </div> + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper comment-form-border"> + +<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="171" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833423" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="855f3f86560ffc248e6d0cdc10cc3566cc5945a4" 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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+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-06-03_093840.jpg " id="image-109" class="picwide caption" />
+
+After the eyebrows come down and the puzzled frowns flatten out, the questions come. Most of them revolve around some form of, but, but but... *what will you do without a house? What will you do when that thing breaks down? What will you do when...*
+
+Rather than answer everyone individually I thought I'd answer all those questions here, as best I can: ***I don't know***.
+
+And I'm not particularly worried about it. I don't know what we'll do without a house, because we have a house. It's just somewhat smaller than the average American dwelling and comes with an engine.
+
+And when it breaks I suspect we'll stop by the side of the road and spend some time sweating, swearing, scratching our heads, failing, asking more experienced people questions, failing some more, sweating some more, and maybe even end up taking a near bath in gasoline. And then we might even have to walk somewhere and find someone smarter and more experienced to help us. Then, eventually, we'll probably get it running again.
+
+Then again it could totally break down into an unfixable hunk of fiberglass and metal that has to towed to the nearest scrapyard. It could burst into flames at a stoplight. It could drop a transmission trying to downshift its way up a hill. A million things could go wrong.
+
+But a million things can always go wrong, the only thing you get worrying about them is an anxiety attack. I find it more useful to carry a reasonable amount of tools and deal with things as they come. In my experience so far the future is seldom as grim as our fears[^1].
+
+What if though? That's the action-killing nag at the back of all our minds. I have it too. You don't think I worry about these things? I do. I know of a Travco that really did burst into flames at a stoplight. It is what it is though. It's not going to stop me from going on this trip. Because you know what? I know of hundreds of Travcos that haven't burst into flames. That one is scary, but it's only one.
+
+A whole lot of houses burst into flames too, yet most of us don't sit around worrying about that. Instead we do what practical things we can, unplug appliances when we're not using them, install new breakers, keep an eye on the candles and so on, and get on with our lives. In the end we manage to ignore the fact that [seven people a day die in house fires](http://www.nfpa.org/news-and-research/news-and-media/press-room/news-releases/2013/seven-people-die-each-day-in-reported-us-home-fires) and just live.
+
+It all comes back to comfort, the ultimate comfort, the little lie we tell ourselves: if I just stay where I am, physically, metaphysically, metaphorically, then I will be safe. It's a nice fiction that helps get all that potential anxiety out of the way, but it's still a fiction.
+
+My problem with that logic is that clinging to a life of "security" at the expense of living the way you want will fail you twice. Not only are you missing out on the life you want to have, but even the security you think you're getting in exchange for foregoing that life turns out to be an illusion. The extra irony is that there's never been a safer time to be alive, yet we're all worried about the lion that might be lurking in the grass. Old habits die hard.
+
+Jon Krakauer's <cite>Into the Wild</cite> [quotes](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/511021-nothing-is-more-damaging-to-the-adventurous-spirit-within-a) a letter [Christopher McCandless](http://www.christophermccandless.info/) wrote to a friend in which he says:
+
+> nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.
+
+Travel is certainly not the only way to have an endlessly changing horizon, at least metaphorically speaking. I'm not suggesting that everyone should sell their house and travel. But I am suggesting that it might be a good time to stop and take a close look at your life and make sure that fear isn't holding you back from what you want. For me deciding to travel is easy, but I still have plenty of useless fear about other stuff. I was terrified to have kids. I probably never would have had them if it weren't for my wife assuring me that we could do it. And we did. And it was the best thing I've ever done. Not a single one of my fears turned out to be accurate.
+
+Traveling isn't the only way to live, but it is one way. And for us it's one that's the most immediate and exciting right now. We may not have a house, we may not have much stuff, we may break down, we may get stuck, we may be uncomfortable. That's okay. I believe we'll make it. Somewhere anyway.
+
+[^1]: There are exceptions. Global warming looks to be every bit as grim as we imagine. War, violence in general, also very grim. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/autumn-bus-update.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/autumn-bus-update.amp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c10068b --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/autumn-bus-update.amp @@ -0,0 +1,213 @@ + + +<!doctype html> +<html amp lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Autumn Bus Update</title> +<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/09/autumn-bus-update"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> + <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> + <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2016/09/autumn-bus-update"> + <meta name="twitter:description" content="There is still much to do, even if we do plan to leave before it's completely finished. 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Darkness comes steadily earlier. The available time between putting the kids to bed and too-dark-to-work grows ever shorter. The loss of light would be worth it were the heat and humidity dropping a bit, but they haven't yet. For now I get by on the words of friends in more northerly climes, who have already started mentioning a crispness to the air. </p> +<p>Here the heat remains constant, the humidity never leaves. The bus feels like an oven by mid afternoon.</p> +<figure class="picwide"> +<amp-img alt="1969 Dodge Travco photographed by luxagraf" height="738" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-banner_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-banner_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-banner_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/bus-banner_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img> +<figcaption>Fresh coat of wax. Compare to <a href="/jrnl/2015/06/big-blue-bus">when we got it</a>.</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>The good news is that the bus also gets closer to done in a series of hints and whispers. Bare walls disappear behind two layers of insulation, then finished birch panels. The ceiling is in and, to judge from bus visitors so far, it's the high water mark of what I've done. </p> +<figure class="picwide"> +<amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="748" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120302_bus-progress_LbYhTMJ_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120302_bus-progress_LbYhTMJ_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120302_bus-progress_LbYhTMJ_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120302_bus-progress_LbYhTMJ_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img> +<figcaption>The bead board ceiling.</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>There are new cabinets as well, partly because additional storage is nice when you're cramming five people into less than 100 square feet of livable space, and partly because neither the ceiling panels nor the wood on the walls is capable of bending to the degree necessary to follow the original curve of the Travco. </p> +<figure class="picwide"> +<amp-img alt="New cabinets in 1969 dodge travco motorhome photographed by luxagraf" height="721" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120359_bus-progress_pFby6Tq_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120359_bus-progress_pFby6Tq_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120359_bus-progress_pFby6Tq_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-08-26_120359_bus-progress_pFby6Tq_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img> +<figcaption>The new cabinets I built.</figcaption> +</figure> +<p>I'm not the only one to hide that curve behind a cabinet. Travcos up until 1968 had a plastic channel to hide it (which did double duty hiding some air conditioning ducting as well) and then in 1969 Travco started adding cabinets as well<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. I mimicked the latter as best I could.</p> +<p>There is still much to do, even if we do plan to <a href="/jrnl/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst">leave before it's completely finished</a>. We need a floor and couch at the bare minimum, though I'd like to have the propane and sewage system working as well. Oh and then there's a cab area, which I really haven't touched.</p> +<p>Did I mention the brakes stopped working a couple weeks back? The Travco's brake fluid reservoir is incredibly inconvenient and difficult to access. There's a hole a few inches back from the accelerator pedal that's just wide enough for a four-year-old's hand. It's way to small for mine. Too small for my channel lock pliers too. I was lazy and posted something in the Travco Facebook group asking if anyone had any tricks for getting the reservoir open and someone responded that I wasn't trying hard enough. I mulled that over for a while. Then the day before I need to move it I felt like I wanted it pretty bad so I got a new pair of needle nose channel locks and sure enough, I hadn't been trying hard enough.</p> +<p>Sometimes it's good to have internet strangers call you on your bullshit. The reservoir was, predictably, empty. So now we get to bleed the brakes, which is good. I like to know that things like brakes are properly done.</p> +<p>The far more difficult project that I'd likewise been avoiding for some time was getting the generator out of the back compartment. Unlike the brake fluid reservoir, getting the generator out turned out to be much harder than I anticipated. </p> +<p>Everyone wants to know why I want to get rid of a perfectly functional Onan<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup> generator. Here's a link to fellow nomad Randy Vining <a href="https://vimeo.com/154906462">reading a poem</a> that nicely summarizes why I don't like generators. Suffice to say that most of my worst camping memories involve someone else's generator ruining the otherwise wonderful sounds of nature. In my view the advent of reasonably cheap solar completely eliminates any need for a generator.</p> +<p>Still, the generator in the bus was perfectly good and I didn't want to just throw it away. There are plenty of people who want one. A few weeks ago I saw someone post in the aforementioned Travco Facebook group looking for a generator for a 1972 Travco. I noticed he was only about five or six hours away in North Carolina so I messaged him and told him he could have the generator if he helped me get it out.</p> +<p>He agreed and a week later he drove down from NC with a neighbor to help out. After a quick run to get some tools I needed to finally get the last bolt off of the thing, the three of use tried lifting it out and quickly realized that there was no way that way happening. I called around to see if any local mechanics had an engine lift we could use, but no one did. This was somewhat complicated by the fact that the brakes had gone out earlier in the day and I didn't really want to drive further than I absolutely had to. Then I remembered that a local equipment rental place around the corner probably had some kind of lift. It was only three blocks a way and didn't involve any major hills. So I hopped in, fired her up and we took off just as a torrential rainstorm hit.</p> +<p>Around block two the bus sputtered and died. Out of gas. Blocking a fairly major intersection. I rolled it back as far it would go. The rain was coming down in sheets. I had no choice but to leave it there at the side of the road. I hopped in Nathan's car and he gave me and the meager two gallon gas can a ride to the gas station and back. I stood in the pouring rain with a makeshift funnel fashioned from a plastic water bottle, pouring gasoline in the tank. I was soaked through with water and gasoline long before I finally got it running again. Like my 1969 Ford, 2 gallons of gas is not enough to get the Travco started. Note to self, get two real steel 5 gallon gas cans and mount them on the bumper.</p> +<p>I finally made it to Barron's rentals and we somehow convinced the otherwise unoccupied warehouse employees to help us lift the generator out with a forklift. I took six of us in all, gently lifting, nudging and balancing the massive generator on a single forklift tine and slowly easing it out. In the end though it worked. We got it out of the bus and into the back of Nathan's Land Cruiser where it disappeared off to a new life in a 1972 Travco somewhere back in North Carolina.</p> +<p>I cleaned out the 50 odd years worth of motor oil and fluids and cut some leftover marine grade plywood the fit the bottom of the generator compartment so it would be a little less exposed to the elements (the wood covers a few holes and with a coat of sealant should last several decades). With the generator gone and the compartment cleared up there's finally room to start moving some of the kids' toys out of the house, which helps get the house cleaned up and more presentable for sale.</p> +<p>One things leads to another and it's all accelerating. It takes a long time to line up dominoes, but so far it's working and the few that we've managed to tip over have all fallen in place.</p> +<p>In the mean time there is much work to be done and miles to go before we sleep.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr/> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>Why didn't our have said cabinets originally? No idea. In fact ours is the only Travco that I've seen built this particular way. <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>The makers of the Onan generator is a company called Cummings. So far as I can tell the name has nothing to do with the minor, but intriguing, biblical character and practitioner of the withdrawal method of birth control (or masturbator depending of which interpretation your favor). <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> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/autumn-bus-update.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/autumn-bus-update.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc68528 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/autumn-bus-update.html @@ -0,0 +1,483 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Autumn Bus Update - 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="There is still much to do, even if we do plan to leave before it's completely finished. 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Darkness comes steadily earlier. The available time between putting the kids to bed and too-dark-to-work grows ever shorter. The loss of light would be worth it were the heat and humidity dropping a bit, but they haven’t yet. For now I get by on the words of friends in more northerly climes, who have already started mentioning a crispness to the air. </p> +<p>Here the heat remains constant, the humidity never leaves. The bus feels like an oven by mid afternoon.</p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939.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/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939_featured_jrnl.jpg 520w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939_picwide.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Fresh coat of wax. Compare to <a href="/jrnl/2015/06/big-blue-bus">when we got it</a>."> + </a> +<figcaption>Fresh coat of wax. Compare to <a href="/jrnl/2015/06/big-blue-bus">when we got it</a>.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The good news is that the bus also gets closer to done in a series of hints and whispers. Bare walls disappear behind two layers of insulation, then finished birch panels. The ceiling is in and, to judge from bus visitors so far, it’s the high water mark of what I’ve done. </p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302.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/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302_picwide-med.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="The bead board ceiling."> + </a> +<figcaption>The bead board ceiling.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>There are new cabinets as well, partly because additional storage is nice when you’re cramming five people into less than 100 square feet of livable space, and partly because neither the ceiling panels nor the wood on the walls is capable of bending to the degree necessary to follow the original curve of the Travco. </p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359_pic66.jpg 820w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359_pic5.jpg 648w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359_pic66.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>I’m not the only one to hide that curve behind a cabinet. Travcos up until 1968 had a plastic channel to hide it (which did double duty hiding some air conditioning ducting as well) and then in 1969 Travco started adding cabinets as well<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. I mimicked the latter as best I could.</p> +<p>There is still much to do, even if we do plan to <a href="/jrnl/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst">leave before it’s completely finished</a>. We need a floor and couch at the bare minimum, though I’d like to have the propane and sewage system working as well. Oh and then there’s a cab area, which I really haven’t touched.</p> +<p>Did I mention the brakes stopped working a couple weeks back? The Travco’s brake fluid reservoir is incredibly inconvenient and difficult to access. There’s a hole a few inches back from the accelerator pedal that’s just wide enough for a four-year-old’s hand. It’s way to small for mine. Too small for my channel lock pliers too. I was lazy and posted something in the Travco Facebook group asking if anyone had any tricks for getting the reservoir open and someone responded that I wasn’t trying hard enough. I mulled that over for a while. Then the day before I need to move it I felt like I wanted it pretty bad so I got a new pair of needle nose channel locks and sure enough, I hadn’t been trying hard enough.</p> +<p>Sometimes it’s good to have internet strangers call you on your bullshit. The reservoir was, predictably, empty. So now we get to bleed the brakes, which is good. I like to know that things like brakes are properly done.</p> +<p>The far more difficult project that I’d likewise been avoiding for some time was getting the generator out of the back compartment. Unlike the brake fluid reservoir, getting the generator out turned out to be much harder than I anticipated. </p> +<p>Everyone wants to know why I want to get rid of a perfectly functional Onan<sup id="fnref:2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:2" rel="footnote">2</a></sup> generator. Here’s a link to fellow nomad Randy Vining <a href="https://vimeo.com/154906462">reading a poem</a> that nicely summarizes why I don’t like generators. Suffice to say that most of my worst camping memories involve someone else’s generator ruining the otherwise wonderful sounds of nature. In my view the advent of reasonably cheap solar completely eliminates any need for a generator.</p> +<p>Still, the generator in the bus was perfectly good and I didn’t want to just throw it away. There are plenty of people who want one. A few weeks ago I saw someone post in the aforementioned Travco Facebook group looking for a generator for a 1972 Travco. I noticed he was only about five or six hours away in North Carolina so I messaged him and told him he could have the generator if he helped me get it out.</p> +<p>He agreed and a week later he drove down from NC with a neighbor to help out. After a quick run to get some tools I needed to finally get the last bolt off of the thing, the three of use tried lifting it out and quickly realized that there was no way that way happening. I called around to see if any local mechanics had an engine lift we could use, but no one did. This was somewhat complicated by the fact that the brakes had gone out earlier in the day and I didn’t really want to drive further than I absolutely had to. Then I remembered that a local equipment rental place around the corner probably had some kind of lift. It was only three blocks a way and didn’t involve any major hills. So I hopped in, fired her up and we took off just as a torrential rainstorm hit.</p> +<p>Around block two the bus sputtered and died. Out of gas. Blocking a fairly major intersection. I rolled it back as far it would go. The rain was coming down in sheets. I had no choice but to leave it there at the side of the road. I hopped in Nathan’s car and he gave me and the meager two gallon gas can a ride to the gas station and back. I stood in the pouring rain with a makeshift funnel fashioned from a plastic water bottle, pouring gasoline in the tank. I was soaked through with water and gasoline long before I finally got it running again. Like my 1969 Ford, 2 gallons of gas is not enough to get the Travco started. Note to self, get two real steel 5 gallon gas cans and mount them on the bumper.</p> +<p>I finally made it to Barron’s rentals and we somehow convinced the otherwise unoccupied warehouse employees to help us lift the generator out with a forklift. I took six of us in all, gently lifting, nudging and balancing the massive generator on a single forklift tine and slowly easing it out. In the end though it worked. We got it out of the bus and into the back of Nathan’s Land Cruiser where it disappeared off to a new life in a 1972 Travco somewhere back in North Carolina.</p> +<p>I cleaned out the 50 odd years worth of motor oil and fluids and cut some leftover marine grade plywood the fit the bottom of the generator compartment so it would be a little less exposed to the elements (the wood covers a few holes and with a coat of sealant should last several decades). With the generator gone and the compartment cleared up there’s finally room to start moving some of the kids’ toys out of the house, which helps get the house cleaned up and more presentable for sale.</p> +<p>One things leads to another and it’s all accelerating. It takes a long time to line up dominoes, but so far it’s working and the few that we’ve managed to tip over have all fallen in place.</p> +<p>In the mean time there is much work to be done and miles to go before we sleep.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>Why didn’t our have said cabinets originally? No idea. In fact ours is the only Travco that I’ve seen built this particular way. <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>The makers of the Onan generator is a company called Cummings. So far as I can tell the name has nothing to do with the minor, but intriguing, biblical character and practitioner of the withdrawal method of birth control (or masturbator depending of which interpretation your favor). <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:2" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">↩</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> + </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/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst" rel="prev" title=" Change of Ideas (The Worst)">Change of Ideas (The Worst)</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/cloudland-canyon" rel="next" title=" Cloudland Canyon">Cloudland Canyon</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<p class="comments--header">2 Comments</p> + + + + + + + <div class="comments--wrapper"> + + <div id="comment-2016" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="11f564eb8c748a3526f921a0ac57c2b7"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/11f564eb8c748a3526f921a0ac57c2b7.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Bennett" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b><a href="http://davidpbennett.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Bennett</a></b></span> + <span class="when">September 22, 2016 at 11:44 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>Seeing as though our calls are far and few between these days, it’s nice to know that between the humidity and rain there’s always a story to be told. It’s not often I’m on Facebook either so this was a good read. </p> +<p>Let’s catch up next week!</p> + + </div> + </div> + + <div id="comment-2020" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott Gilbertson" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott Gilbertson</a></b></span> + <span class="when">September 23, 2016 at 6:09 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>Thanks man. You’re in that rare category of readers who can call and tell me that your comment didn’t post. :)</p> + + </div> + </div> + + </div> + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper comment-form-border"> + +<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="174" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833422" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="944f0edc4ba0fc4e022ec3ad1a095eb6b4f21811" 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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Darkness comes steadily earlier. The available time between putting the kids to bed and too-dark-to-work grows ever shorter. The loss of light would be worth it were the heat and humidity dropping a bit, but they haven't yet. For now I get by on the words of friends in more northerly climes, who have already started mentioning a crispness to the air.
+
+Here the heat remains constant, the humidity never leaves. The bus feels like an oven by mid afternoon.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-09-13_093939.jpg" id="image-123" class="picwide caption" />
+
+The good news is that the bus also gets closer to done in a series of hints and whispers. Bare walls disappear behind two layers of insulation, then finished birch panels. The ceiling is in and, to judge from bus visitors so far, it's the high water mark of what I've done.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120302.jpg " id="image-120" class="picwide caption" />
+
+There are new cabinets as well, partly because additional storage is nice when you're cramming five people into less than 100 square feet of livable space, and partly because neither the ceiling panels nor the wood on the walls is capable of bending to the degree necessary to follow the original curve of the Travco.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359.jpg" id="image-246" class="picwide" />
+
+I'm not the only one to hide that curve behind a cabinet. Travcos up until 1968 had a plastic channel to hide it (which did double duty hiding some air conditioning ducting as well) and then in 1969 Travco started adding cabinets as well[^1]. I mimicked the latter as best I could.
+
+There is still much to do, even if we do plan to [leave before it's completely finished](/jrnl/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst). We need a floor and couch at the bare minimum, though I'd like to have the propane and sewage system working as well. Oh and then there's a cab area, which I really haven't touched.
+
+Did I mention the brakes stopped working a couple weeks back? The Travco's brake fluid reservoir is incredibly inconvenient and difficult to access. There's a hole a few inches back from the accelerator pedal that's just wide enough for a four-year-old's hand. It's way to small for mine. Too small for my channel lock pliers too. I was lazy and posted something in the Travco Facebook group asking if anyone had any tricks for getting the reservoir open and someone responded that I wasn't trying hard enough. I mulled that over for a while. Then the day before I need to move it I felt like I wanted it pretty bad so I got a new pair of needle nose channel locks and sure enough, I hadn't been trying hard enough.
+
+Sometimes it's good to have internet strangers call you on your bullshit. The reservoir was, predictably, empty. So now we get to bleed the brakes, which is good. I like to know that things like brakes are properly done.
+
+The far more difficult project that I'd likewise been avoiding for some time was getting the generator out of the back compartment. Unlike the brake fluid reservoir, getting the generator out turned out to be much harder than I anticipated.
+
+Everyone wants to know why I want to get rid of a perfectly functional Onan[^2] generator. Here's a link to fellow nomad Randy Vining [reading a poem](https://vimeo.com/154906462) that nicely summarizes why I don't like generators. Suffice to say that most of my worst camping memories involve someone else's generator ruining the otherwise wonderful sounds of nature. In my view the advent of reasonably cheap solar completely eliminates any need for a generator.
+
+Still, the generator in the bus was perfectly good and I didn't want to just throw it away. There are plenty of people who want one. A few weeks ago I saw someone post in the aforementioned Travco Facebook group looking for a generator for a 1972 Travco. I noticed he was only about five or six hours away in North Carolina so I messaged him and told him he could have the generator if he helped me get it out.
+
+He agreed and a week later he drove down from NC with a neighbor to help out. After a quick run to get some tools I needed to finally get the last bolt off of the thing, the three of use tried lifting it out and quickly realized that there was no way that way happening. I called around to see if any local mechanics had an engine lift we could use, but no one did. This was somewhat complicated by the fact that the brakes had gone out earlier in the day and I didn't really want to drive further than I absolutely had to. Then I remembered that a local equipment rental place around the corner probably had some kind of lift. It was only three blocks a way and didn't involve any major hills. So I hopped in, fired her up and we took off just as a torrential rainstorm hit.
+
+Around block two the bus sputtered and died. Out of gas. Blocking a fairly major intersection. I rolled it back as far it would go. The rain was coming down in sheets. I had no choice but to leave it there at the side of the road. I hopped in Nathan's car and he gave me and the meager two gallon gas can a ride to the gas station and back. I stood in the pouring rain with a makeshift funnel fashioned from a plastic water bottle, pouring gasoline in the tank. I was soaked through with water and gasoline long before I finally got it running again. Like my 1969 Ford, 2 gallons of gas is not enough to get the Travco started. Note to self, get two real steel 5 gallon gas cans and mount them on the bumper.
+
+I finally made it to Barron's rentals and we somehow convinced the otherwise unoccupied warehouse employees to help us lift the generator out with a forklift. I took six of us in all, gently lifting, nudging and balancing the massive generator on a single forklift tine and slowly easing it out. In the end though it worked. We got it out of the bus and into the back of Nathan's Land Cruiser where it disappeared off to a new life in a 1972 Travco somewhere back in North Carolina.
+
+I cleaned out the 50 odd years worth of motor oil and fluids and cut some leftover marine grade plywood the fit the bottom of the generator compartment so it would be a little less exposed to the elements (the wood covers a few holes and with a coat of sealant should last several decades). With the generator gone and the compartment cleared up there's finally room to start moving some of the kids' toys out of the house, which helps get the house cleaned up and more presentable for sale.
+
+One things leads to another and it's all accelerating. It takes a long time to line up dominoes, but so far it's working and the few that we've managed to tip over have all fallen in place.
+
+In the mean time there is much work to be done and miles to go before we sleep.
+
+[^1]: Why didn't our have said cabinets originally? No idea. In fact ours is the only Travco that I've seen built this particular way.
+[^2]: The makers of the Onan generator is a company called Cummings. So far as I can tell the name has nothing to do with the minor, but intriguing, biblical character and practitioner of the withdrawal method of birth control (or masturbator depending of which interpretation your favor). diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/cloudland-canyon.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/cloudland-canyon.amp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2cb3729 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/cloudland-canyon.amp @@ -0,0 +1,200 @@ + + +<!doctype html> +<html amp lang="en"> +<head> +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title>Cloudland Canyon</title> +<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/09/cloudland-canyon"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> + <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> + <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2016/09/cloudland-canyon"> + <meta name="twitter:description" content="I have a terrible habit of never going to obvious places that are right around me. 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For example I lived within 100 miles or so of Death Valley for 26 years and never once went. Then I moved thousands of miles across the country and finally arranged <a href="/jrnl/2010/04/death-valley">a trip to Death Valley</a>. Same with Catalina Island, which was always a mere 26 miles away. Until it wasn't. And then <a href="/jrnl/2007/07/other-ocean">I went</a>.</p> +<p>I've been joking for some time that Savannah GA is going to be my new Death Valley, which I suppose would make Cloudland Canyon my new Catalina Island. Except that it appears I'm getting better about these things. Maybe. I wouldn't say <em>I</em> got myself to Cloudland Canyon, but events did conspire such that I ended up in Cloudland Canyon <em>before</em> we left Georgia. Progress.</p></div> +<p><amp-img alt="Sunrise, Bear creek overlook, Cloudland Canyon GA photographed by luxagraf" height="548" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-17_070613_cloudland-canyon-2_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-17_070613_cloudland-canyon-2_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-17_070613_cloudland-canyon-2_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-17_070613_cloudland-canyon-2_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>No, we didn't take the bus. It was a family reunion for some of Corrinne's family so cabins were rented and we were offered a room in one of them, which is just as well because the campground was a bit dismal -- little more than a gravel parking lot really. The canyon, however, is well worth going for, particularly if you get up before dawn and head down to the Bear Creek overlook to watch the sunrise.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="659" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/cloudland1_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/cloudland1_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/cloudland1_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/cloudland1_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>As is our usual pace we took the back roads, not hurrying, winding through the mountains, stopping for a picnic lunch at another state park that was mostly a shrine to the Army Corp of Engineers. I have mixed feelings about The Corp. They're largely responsible for the mess that is the Mississippi River Valley today and their hubris is possibly unmatched even today. Still. At least they didn't waste their time building gadgets. </p> +<p>Could they have stopped for a minute to study the ecology of a place before they attempted to "improve" it? Sure, but at least they tried to make the world a better place (even if their vision differs from mine). At least they left behind a place my kids can eat turkey sandwiches and chocolate cookies.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="878" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160011_5x0G4sl_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160011_5x0G4sl_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160011_5x0G4sl_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160011_5x0G4sl_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>Oh, and a reservoir. The Corp did love them some dams. But not for lakes mind you. Lakes are frivolous. Reservoirs are eminently practical and serious. Like the Army Corp of Engineers.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="705" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160016_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160016_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160016_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160016_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>Eventually we made it to Cloudland Canyon. Not without things getting interesting though. To add modicum of adventure the air conditioning broke just after lunch. I turned on the WD50 air con, but because it's never-winter here in Georgia, we were all quite warm by the time we got there. Fortunately the solution was already there waiting for us -- hammocks.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="772" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170063_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170063_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170063_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170063_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="723" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170100_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170100_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170100_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170100_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>We didn't hike all the way down into the canyon, but we did manage to go a little ways. Apparently it just wasn't enough for Elliott who decided hiking up out of a canyon wasn't hard enough so he picked up a large rock and carried it all the way up.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="713" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160033_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160033_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160033_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9160033_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>We've taken the girls camping before, but they were too young to remember. And I don't think we ever did the important stuff, like making campfires and roasting marshmellows for s'mores. That oversight has since been corrected.</p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="878" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170120_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170120_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170120_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170120_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="878" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170124_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170124_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170124_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170124_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p><amp-img alt=" photographed by luxagraf" height="759" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170127_1170.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170127_2280.jpg 2280w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170127_1170.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P9170127_720.jpg 720w" width="1170"></amp-img></p> +<p>Now the question is, will I make it to Savannah before we leave or will I have to wait for a return visit to make it to the coast?</p> + </div> + </article> +</main> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/cloudland-canyon.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/cloudland-canyon.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3f1f79 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/cloudland-canyon.html @@ -0,0 +1,343 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail double" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Cloudland Canyon - 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="I've always wanted to visit Cloudland Canyon, but have a terrible habit of never going to places nearby until I've long since moved away. 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For example I lived within 100 miles or so of Death Valley for 26 years and never once went. Then I moved thousands of miles across the country and finally arranged <a href="/jrnl/2010/04/death-valley">a trip to Death Valley</a>. Same with Catalina Island, which was always a mere 26 miles away. Until it wasn’t. And then <a href="/jrnl/2007/07/other-ocean">I went</a>.</p> +<p>I’ve been joking for some time that Savannah GA is going to be my new Death Valley, which I suppose would make Cloudland Canyon my new Catalina Island. Except that it appears I’m getting better about these things. Maybe. I wouldn’t say <em>I</em> got myself to Cloudland Canyon, but events did conspire such that I ended up in Cloudland Canyon <em>before</em> we left Georgia. Progress.</p></div> + +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/2016-09-17_070613_cloudland-canyon-2.jpg"/></p> +<p>No, we didn’t take the bus. It was a family reunion for some of Corrinne’s family so cabins were rented and we were offered a room in one of them, which is just as well because the campground was a bit dismal — little more than a gravel parking lot really. The canyon, however, is well worth going for, particularly if you get up before dawn and head down to the Bear Creek overlook to watch the sunrise.</p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/cloudland1.jpg"/></p> +<p>As is our usual pace we took the back roads, not hurrying, winding through the mountains, stopping for a picnic lunch at another state park that was mostly a shrine to the Army Corp of Engineers. I have mixed feelings about The Corp. They’re largely responsible for the mess that is the Mississippi River Valley today and their hubris is possibly unmatched even today. Still. At least they didn’t waste their time building gadgets. </p> +<p>Could they have stopped for a minute to study the ecology of a place before they attempted to “improve” it? Sure, but at least they tried to make the world a better place (even if their vision differs from mine). At least they left behind a place my kids can eat turkey sandwiches and chocolate cookies.</p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9160011_5x0G4sl.jpg"/></p> +<p>Oh, and a reservoir. The Corp did love them some dams. But not for lakes mind you. Lakes are frivolous. Reservoirs are eminently practical and serious. Like the Army Corp of Engineers.</p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9160016.jpg"/></p> +<p>Eventually we made it to Cloudland Canyon. Not without things getting interesting though. To add modicum of adventure the air conditioning broke just after lunch. I turned on the WD50 air con, but because it’s never-winter here in Georgia, we were all quite warm by the time we got there. Fortunately the solution was already there waiting for us — hammocks.</p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9170063.jpg"/></p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9170100.jpg"/></p> +<p>We didn’t hike all the way down into the canyon, but we did manage to go a little ways. Apparently it just wasn’t enough for Elliott who decided hiking up out of a canyon wasn’t hard enough so he picked up a large rock and carried it all the way up.</p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9160033.jpg"/></p> +<p>We’ve taken the girls camping before, but they were too young to remember. And I don’t think we ever did the important stuff, like making campfires and roasting marshmellows for s’mores. That oversight has since been corrected.</p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9170120.jpg"/></p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9170124.jpg"/></p> +<p><img class="picwide" src="images/2016/P9170127.jpg"/></p> +<p>Now the question is, will I make it to Savannah before we leave or will I have to wait for a return visit to make it to the coast?</p> + </div> + + </article> + + + <div class="nav-wrapper"> + <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> + <ul> + <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/autumn-bus-update" rel="prev" title=" Autumn Bus Update">Autumn Bus Update</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/equinox" rel="next" title=" Equinox">Equinox</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="175" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833421" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="eac2a81a1e97ff6326dd84d0093772af8e9b82cc" 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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For example I lived within 100 miles or so of Death Valley for 26 years and never once went. Then I moved thousands of miles across the country and finally arranged <a href="/jrnl/2010/04/death-valley">a trip to Death Valley</a>. Same with Catalina Island, which was always a mere 26 miles away. Until it wasn't. And then <a href="/jrnl/2007/07/other-ocean">I went</a>.</p>
+<p>I've been joking for some time that Savannah GA is going to be my new Death Valley, which I suppose would make Cloudland Canyon my new Catalina Island. Except that it appears I'm getting better about these things. Maybe. I wouldn't say <em>I</em> got myself to Cloudland Canyon, but events did conspire such that I ended up in Cloudland Canyon <em>before</em> we left Georgia. Progress.</p></div>
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-09-17_070613_cloudland-canyon-2.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+No, we didn't take the bus. It was a family reunion for some of Corrinne's family so cabins were rented and we were offered a room in one of them, which is just as well because the campground was a bit dismal -- little more than a gravel parking lot really. The canyon, however, is well worth going for, particularly if you get up before dawn and head down to the Bear Creek overlook to watch the sunrise.
+
+<img src="images/2016/cloudland1.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+As is our usual pace we took the back roads, not hurrying, winding through the mountains, stopping for a picnic lunch at another state park that was mostly a shrine to the Army Corp of Engineers. I have mixed feelings about The Corp. They're largely responsible for the mess that is the Mississippi River Valley today and their hubris is possibly unmatched even today. Still. At least they didn't waste their time building gadgets.
+
+Could they have stopped for a minute to study the ecology of a place before they attempted to "improve" it? Sure, but at least they tried to make the world a better place (even if their vision differs from mine). At least they left behind a place my kids can eat turkey sandwiches and chocolate cookies.
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9160011_5x0G4sl.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+Oh, and a reservoir. The Corp did love them some dams. But not for lakes mind you. Lakes are frivolous. Reservoirs are eminently practical and serious. Like the Army Corp of Engineers.
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9160016.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+Eventually we made it to Cloudland Canyon. Not without things getting interesting though. To add modicum of adventure the air conditioning broke just after lunch. I turned on the WD50 air con, but because it's never-winter here in Georgia, we were all quite warm by the time we got there. Fortunately the solution was already there waiting for us -- hammocks.
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9170063.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9170100.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+We didn't hike all the way down into the canyon, but we did manage to go a little ways. Apparently it just wasn't enough for Elliott who decided hiking up out of a canyon wasn't hard enough so he picked up a large rock and carried it all the way up.
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9160033.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+We've taken the girls camping before, but they were too young to remember. And I don't think we ever did the important stuff, like making campfires and roasting marshmellows for s'mores. That oversight has since been corrected.
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9170120.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9170124.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+<img src="images/2016/P9170127.jpg" class="picwide" />
+
+Now the question is, will I make it to Savannah before we leave or will I have to wait for a return visit to make it to the coast? diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/equinox.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/equinox.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7892b91 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/equinox.html @@ -0,0 +1,412 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Equinox - 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="I have a thing for solar cycles. I was born a few hours before the winter solstice. My wife and I were married on the summer solstice. My son was born a few hours before the winter solstice. None of that was planned. 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To become more aware of the rhythms and patterns of life that haven’t had human will imposed on them. To be aware of the cycles around us.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox.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/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox_picfull-sm.jpg 750w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox_picwide.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-22_083636_equinox.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould writes about time having two components, time’s arrow and time’s cycle. </p> +<p>Time’s arrow is linear time, what we would call history, a way of looking at the past as a series of non-repeating events. Time’s cycle on the other hand is circular time, “fundamental states… immanent in time, always present and never changing”, as he puts it in <cite>Time’s Arrow, Time’s Cycle</cite></p> +<p>Time’s arrow is all around us every day, it is the proverbial water to a fish, we exist so immersed in a world that views time as an arrow that we don’t even realize that’s something we think, however, subconsciously.</p> +<div class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-22_08.51.43.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/2016/2016-09-22_08.51.43_pictall-sm.jpg Nonew, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_08.51.43_pictall-med.jpg Nonew, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_08.51.43_pictall.jpg Nonew" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_08.51.43_pictall-med.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-22_08.51.43.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Time’s cycle though, that doesn’t get much press in our world. If you want the space to exist in time’s cycle for a while you’ll have to carve it yourself. I’m convinced this is why our forefathers recognized and celebrated time’s cycle where they saw it. It’s easy to live in time’s arrow, but it’s only at certain points on the arrow can you see the cycle happening as well. This why there have always been harvest festivals, planting festivals, hunting festivals, lunar festivals, seasonal festivals and so on. Nearly every culture prior to ours had them, and in more of the world than not, they’re still celebrated today.</p> +<p>I have a thing for solar cycles I guess. I was born a few hours before the winter solstice. My wife and I were married on the summer solstice. My son was born a few hours before the winter solstice. None of that was planned. It’s all synchronicity. Coincidence some would say. That’s the word for the the curious cycle-denying component of our culture. Not only do we ignore the cycle, we seem to want to deny it entirely.</p> +<p>Alternately, you could contemplate the possibility that synchronicities like that are not coincidence. That they have pattern to them, that the pattern might mean something or have something to say to you, even if it only turns out to be, “hey I exist too”.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-22_084656_equinox.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/2016/2016-09-22_084656_equinox_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_084656_equinox_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_084656_equinox_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-22_084656_equinox_picwide-med.jpg" alt="pond photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-22_084656_equinox.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Another pattern I’ve noticed in my existence so far is that whenever there’s a proposed dualism there’s also a third possibility half-hidden in the combination of the two. Time’s looping arrow that repeats though cycles but is a bit different each time. </p> +<p>There’s an equinox every autumn, but it looks a bit different each time.</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/2016/09/cloudland-canyon" rel="prev" title=" Cloudland Canyon">Cloudland Canyon</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/10/useless-stuff" rel="next" title=" Useless Stuff">Useless Stuff</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="176" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833420" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="8a7bc71a759a678bb5a1da81678a852e102dbb7e" 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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+
+
+One of our motivations for living in the bus is to spend more time outside -- outside in general, but even moreso, outside in nature. To become more aware of the rhythms and patterns of life that haven't had human will imposed on them. To be aware of the cycles around us.
+
+<img src="images/2017/2016-09-22_083636_equinox.jpg" id="image-137" class="picwide" />
+
+Paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould writes about time having two components, time's arrow and time's cycle.
+
+Time's arrow is linear time, what we would call history, a way of looking at the past as a series of non-repeating events. Time's cycle on the other hand is circular time, "fundamental states... immanent in time, always present and never changing", as he puts it in <cite>Time's Arrow, Time's Cycle</cite>
+
+Time's arrow is all around us every day, it is the proverbial water to a fish, we exist so immersed in a world that views time as an arrow that we don't even realize that's something we think, however, subconsciously.
+
+<img src="images/2017/2016-09-22_08.51.43.jpg" id="image-138" class="picfull" />
+
+Time's cycle though, that doesn't get much press in our world. If you want the space to exist in time's cycle for a while you'll have to carve it yourself. I'm convinced this is why our forefathers recognized and celebrated time's cycle where they saw it. It's easy to live in time's arrow, but it's only at certain points on the arrow can you see the cycle happening as well. This why there have always been harvest festivals, planting festivals, hunting festivals, lunar festivals, seasonal festivals and so on. Nearly every culture prior to ours had them, and in more of the world than not, they're still celebrated today.
+
+I have a thing for solar cycles I guess. I was born a few hours before the winter solstice. My wife and I were married on the summer solstice. My son was born a few hours before the winter solstice. None of that was planned. It's all synchronicity. Coincidence some would say. That's the word for the the curious cycle-denying component of our culture. Not only do we ignore the cycle, we seem to want to deny it entirely.
+
+Alternately, you could contemplate the possibility that synchronicities like that are not coincidence. That they have pattern to them, that the pattern might mean something or have something to say to you, even if it only turns out to be, "hey I exist too".
+
+<img src="images/2017/2016-09-22_084656_equinox.jpg" id="image-253" class="picwide" />
+
+Another pattern I've noticed in my existence so far is that whenever there's a proposed dualism there's also a third possibility half-hidden in the combination of the two. Time's looping arrow that repeats though cycles but is a bit different each time.
+
+There's an equinox every autumn, but it looks a bit different each time. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba873eb --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/09/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,110 @@ +<!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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>September</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: September 2016</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/09/equinox" title="Equinox">Equinox</a> + <time datetime="2016-09-22T02:30:53-04:00">Sep 22, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/09/cloudland-canyon" title="Cloudland Canyon">Cloudland Canyon</a> + <time datetime="2016-09-19T20:53:01-04:00">Sep 19, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/09/autumn-bus-update" title="Autumn Bus Update">Autumn Bus Update</a> + <time datetime="2016-09-15T00:04:41-04:00">Sep 15, 2016</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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return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> + </div> + <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-10-16T00:25:11" itemprop="datePublished">October <span>16, 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> + </header> + <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody"> + <p>Work on the bus progresses. The cab area (helm? cockpit?) has walls now, which means there’s no more steel ribs, fiberglass or bare wires showing.</p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE.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/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE_picfull-sm.jpg 750w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE_picwide.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Look Ma, no bare walls."> + </a> +<figcaption>Look Ma, no bare walls.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>In fact, the only thing left to do is hook up the systems (water, propane), rebuild the bathroom door and lay the floor. Well, and recover the seats, but I won’t be doing that so it doesn’t really count from my point of view.</p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q.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/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q_picfull-sm.jpg 750w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q_picwide.jpg" alt="None photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Ready to go."> + </a> +<figcaption>Ready to go.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Parallel to restoring the bus we’ve also been clearing out our house and getting it ready to sell. Thankfully we’ve taken good care of the house itself, all it really needed was some touch up paint and yard work. Clearing out our stuff though, that’s been very, very challenging. </p> +<p>Normally when you move you just shove all that stuff you don’t really acknowledge that you’ve been dragging around for years without using into a box and truck it on to the next place you’ll live where you can happily shove it in the back of a new closet. </p> +<p>When you’re moving into a 1969 Dodge Travco with four other people and less than 100 square feet of usable space that’s not an option. </p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-16_102814_bus_hROgXXF.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/2016/2016-10-16_102814_bus_hROgXXF_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-16_102814_bus_hROgXXF_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-16_102814_bus_hROgXXF.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Still need to recover the seats, but it's coming together."> + </a> +<figcaption>Still need to recover the seats, but it’s coming together.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>In that case you have to actually dig in and deal with all that stuff that’s always been easier not to deal with. You have to do something with it. You have to take a good hard look at it and you have to face the facts on the ground of your life so to speak, rather than the life you wish you had, which, for me anyway, is the source of most of my stuff. </p> +<p><em>“Well, I might learn to play the banjo one day.”</em></p> +<p><em>“You’ve had eight years and you haven’t yet.”</em></p> +<p><em>“I did learn how to tune it though. Plus I’ll have more time soon.”</em></p> +<p><em>“Probably not. Plus, you don’t even really like banjo music.”</em></p> +<p><em>“That’s not true. There’s that Grant Lee Buffalo song with the banjo intro. And Don Chambers, he plays banjo a lot. Plus I loved waking up to Adam Musick playing the banjo downstairs back when we lived above Southern Bitch.”</em></p> +<p><em>“So… you have not one, but two banjos and a broken mandolin because they remind you of a few notes of music you like and some experiences you enjoyed seventeen years ago?”</em></p> +<p><em>“Hmm. When you put it like that…”</em></p> +<p><em>“Probably you can hang on to your love of the music and the experiences even without the banjos. You could even write it all down somewhere so that you have a copy of your memories. That way you can keep what you love, get the cruft out of your life and make room for something new.”</em></p> +<p>And so it goes for hundreds of objects, almost none of which actually turned out have any real value to me.</p> +<p>As George Carlin used to say in a bit about stuff, “have you ever noticed that other people’s stuff is shit; and your shit is stuff?” When you strip away the “well I might need/use it someday” logic of accumulating useless stuff, you realize that your life is filled up with shit.</p> +<iframe width="660" height="371" src="https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/MvgN5gCuLac?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> + +<p>Don’t get me wrong. We do have a storage unit, but we deliberately got the smallest unit available. We have a few family heirlooms to store, some books that might be useful one day and a handful of other stuff (I may not have learned the banjo, but you’ll have a hell of a time prying my guitars from my cold dead fingers), but for the most part the stuff has been shed.</p> +<p>We have resold and donated 20 years worth of accumulated stuff over the last year or so. We’ve donated so much stuff that I know everyone at the local thrift shop by name, including the former mayor of Athens who started volunteering there the first day I made a major stuff drop off. Even now, months later she gets excited every time I show up with more stuff, which, now that we’re getting near the end, happens at least once a week. Sometimes two or three times a day.</p> +<p>It’s not like we were hoarders or anything. Neither Corrinne nor I had ever, prior to buying our house, lived in any one location for much more than a year. That kind of constant movement tends to make you stay relatively light on stuff. We did spend seven years at this address though, and we do have three kids, but believe it or not, the kids’ stuff isn’t the bulk of what we’ve gotten rid of. It’s our stuff. And for the life of me I can’t figure out how it all got in my life.</p> +<p>What I do know is that it has started to feel really good not to have it. Things are really clean. I almost never have to look for anything anymore because there’s a) much less to lose b) much less stuff to hide the thing I’m looking for. </p> +<p>I know there are whole books written about this subject, one in particular that’s very popular right now, but until you actually start doing it, you really have no idea how transformative it can really be to free yourself of stuff. It can change the entire way you look at the world, but that’s a topic for another day.</p> +<p>One thing I dislike about all these books and websites about shedding stuff though is that that they treat the process as if you’ll achieve some state of zen when you’re done, which, uh, yeah, not so much. It’s not that dramatic. I guess the zen angle is the best alternative is to admitting you made some mistakes since that’s not a popular idea these days. Saying “no regrets” is so common it’s a cliche. Our culture seems to think history, both personal and cultural, is a process of endless progress — from cave to stuffless zen present — which means regrets and mistakes need to swept under the proverbial rug. </p> +<p>But looking at your past and saying you have no regrets is crazy. It means you’re either, a) perfect or b) incapable of recognizing (and therefore learning) from your mistakes. Neither of which are good things. </p> +<p>Admitting mistakes is admitting that not all forward movement in time is in fact progress, some of it might consist of dead ends and blind alleys full of unused banjos and broken mandolins. Some of it might even be regress. Some of our stuff might be shit. Still, getting rid of stuff is nothing so much as not just admitting, but directly confronting, your mistakes. And then dumping it all at the thrift store. </p> +<p>Which is of course bullshit. All of it, the progress, the lack of mistakes, the stuff. The shit. All of it, bullshit.</p> +<p>I got regrets; lordy do I have some regrets. Particularly when it comes to stuff I have purchased. I didn’t buy the aforementioned banjos, but I did buy some dumb shit over the years. Books I could have checked out for free, electronic gadgets I never needed and barely used, kitchen crap no one needs. I really should have known better. I <em>do</em> know better. And still I succumbed.</p> +<p>I make mistakes. I got regrets. I got too much stuff that turned out to be shit. But now it’s all gone. Now I have catharsis and perhaps even a tad of personal insight, though that could just be more bullshit, hard to say for sure.</p> +<p>At first it didn’t bother me that much to get rid of my mistakes because hey, we have eBay and you can make some decent cash for the strangest stuff. Like <a href="/jrnl/2015/10/8-track-gorilla">old 8 track players</a>. Or sleeping bags you never used. But at some point I stopped being amazed by how much money I was able to get on eBay and started thinking more about how much I had spent on shit in the first place. How much money I had spent on stuff which at the time seemed like a good idea, but turned out to mean next to nothing to me and was probably (deep down) motivated by some weird subconscious set of culturally handed down ideals I’m not about to try and parse out. </p> +<p>What I do know if that all of it was a waste. It was all a bunch of shit. And I regret it. Not because I want the money back, but because I can never get the life energy that went into getting the money back. I’d like to have that back, or to have at least channeled it into something that would have paid more dividends in the future, which is to say now.</p> +<p>Which is not to say that I’m not grateful that I can at least get something for it. Thanks eBay. Plenty of stuff though — typically the most expensive, most digital stuff — is pretty much worthless. The $1200 TV from 2009? Sold for $40. IPod I bought for almost $400 just before I went traveling in 2006? Selling for less than the price of shipping it it to the buyer. So yeah, I have regrets. I also have a new appreciation for buying last year’s model used.</p> +<p>I ended up keeping the iPod. It’s my new talisman to protect me from myself. It also does a fine job of playing music. Oddly enough for an Apple product, it still works after all these years. Even the battery is still good, though I put an extra 12V plug in the cab area of the bus just in case.</p> +<p>It seems fitting to launch a new trip, just over ten years after the last one, with an artifact or two shared between them. And it sounds just as good as it ever did. Better even since I have some nicer headphones now. And yeah, I’ve played that Grant Lee Buffalo song with the banjo intro a time or two to reminisce. 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The cab area (helm? cockpit?) has walls now, which means there's no more steel ribs, fiberglass or bare wires showing.
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-16_102602_bus_7rpGQRE.jpg" id="image-141" class="picwide caption" />
+
+In fact, the only thing left to do is hook up the systems (water, propane), rebuild the bathroom door and lay the floor. Well, and recover the seats, but I won't be doing that so it doesn't really count from my point of view.
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-09-28_092624_bus_s4TtK2Q.jpg" id="image-142" class="picwide caption" />
+
+Parallel to restoring the bus we've also been clearing out our house and getting it ready to sell. Thankfully we've taken good care of the house itself, all it really needed was some touch up paint and yard work. Clearing out our stuff though, that's been very, very challenging.
+
+Normally when you move you just shove all that stuff you don't really acknowledge that you've been dragging around for years without using into a box and truck it on to the next place you'll live where you can happily shove it in the back of a new closet.
+
+When you're moving into a 1969 Dodge Travco with four other people and less than 100 square feet of usable space that's not an option.
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-16_102814_bus_hROgXXF.jpg" id="image-143" class="picwide caption" />
+
+In that case you have to actually dig in and deal with all that stuff that's always been easier not to deal with. You have to do something with it. You have to take a good hard look at it and you have to face the facts on the ground of your life so to speak, rather than the life you wish you had, which, for me anyway, is the source of most of my stuff.
+
+*"Well, I might learn to play the banjo one day."*
+
+*"You've had eight years and you haven't yet."*
+
+*"I did learn how to tune it though. Plus I'll have more time soon."*
+
+*"Probably not. Plus, you don't even really like banjo music."*
+
+*"That's not true. There's that Grant Lee Buffalo song with the banjo intro. And Don Chambers, he plays banjo a lot. Plus I loved waking up to Adam Musick playing the banjo downstairs back when we lived above Southern Bitch."*
+
+*"So... you have not one, but two banjos and a broken mandolin because they remind you of a few notes of music you like and some experiences you enjoyed seventeen years ago?"*
+
+*"Hmm. When you put it like that..."*
+
+*"Probably you can hang on to your love of the music and the experiences even without the banjos. You could even write it all down somewhere so that you have a copy of your memories. That way you can keep what you love, get the cruft out of your life and make room for something new."*
+
+And so it goes for hundreds of objects, almost none of which actually turned out have any real value to me.
+
+As George Carlin used to say in a bit about stuff, "have you ever noticed that other people's stuff is shit; and your shit is stuff?" When you strip away the "well I might need/use it someday" logic of accumulating useless stuff, you realize that your life is filled up with shit.
+
+<iframe width="660" height="371" src="https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/MvgN5gCuLac?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
+
+Don't get me wrong. We do have a storage unit, but we deliberately got the smallest unit available. We have a few family heirlooms to store, some books that might be useful one day and a handful of other stuff (I may not have learned the banjo, but you'll have a hell of a time prying my guitars from my cold dead fingers), but for the most part the stuff has been shed.
+
+We have resold and donated 20 years worth of accumulated stuff over the last year or so. We've donated so much stuff that I know everyone at the local thrift shop by name, including the former mayor of Athens who started volunteering there the first day I made a major stuff drop off. Even now, months later she gets excited every time I show up with more stuff, which, now that we're getting near the end, happens at least once a week. Sometimes two or three times a day.
+
+It's not like we were hoarders or anything. Neither Corrinne nor I had ever, prior to buying our house, lived in any one location for much more than a year. That kind of constant movement tends to make you stay relatively light on stuff. We did spend seven years at this address though, and we do have three kids, but believe it or not, the kids' stuff isn't the bulk of what we've gotten rid of. It's our stuff. And for the life of me I can't figure out how it all got in my life.
+
+What I do know is that it has started to feel really good not to have it. Things are really clean. I almost never have to look for anything anymore because there's a) much less to lose b) much less stuff to hide the thing I'm looking for.
+
+I know there are whole books written about this subject, one in particular that's very popular right now, but until you actually start doing it, you really have no idea how transformative it can really be to free yourself of stuff. It can change the entire way you look at the world, but that's a topic for another day.
+
+One thing I dislike about all these books and websites about shedding stuff though is that that they treat the process as if you'll achieve some state of zen when you're done, which, uh, yeah, not so much. It's not that dramatic. I guess the zen angle is the best alternative is to admitting you made some mistakes since that's not a popular idea these days. Saying "no regrets" is so common it's a cliche. Our culture seems to think history, both personal and cultural, is a process of endless progress -- from cave to stuffless zen present -- which means regrets and mistakes need to swept under the proverbial rug.
+
+But looking at your past and saying you have no regrets is crazy. It means you're either, a) perfect or b) incapable of recognizing (and therefore learning) from your mistakes. Neither of which are good things.
+
+Admitting mistakes is admitting that not all forward movement in time is in fact progress, some of it might consist of dead ends and blind alleys full of unused banjos and broken mandolins. Some of it might even be regress. Some of our stuff might be shit. Still, getting rid of stuff is nothing so much as not just admitting, but directly confronting, your mistakes. And then dumping it all at the thrift store.
+
+Which is of course bullshit. All of it, the progress, the lack of mistakes, the stuff. The shit. All of it, bullshit.
+
+I got regrets; lordy do I have some regrets. Particularly when it comes to stuff I have purchased. I didn't buy the aforementioned banjos, but I did buy some dumb shit over the years. Books I could have checked out for free, electronic gadgets I never needed and barely used, kitchen crap no one needs. I really should have known better. I *do* know better. And still I succumbed.
+
+I make mistakes. I got regrets. I got too much stuff that turned out to be shit. But now it's all gone. Now I have catharsis and perhaps even a tad of personal insight, though that could just be more bullshit, hard to say for sure.
+
+At first it didn't bother me that much to get rid of my mistakes because hey, we have eBay and you can make some decent cash for the strangest stuff. Like [old 8 track players][2]. Or sleeping bags you never used. But at some point I stopped being amazed by how much money I was able to get on eBay and started thinking more about how much I had spent on shit in the first place. How much money I had spent on stuff which at the time seemed like a good idea, but turned out to mean next to nothing to me and was probably (deep down) motivated by some weird subconscious set of culturally handed down ideals I'm not about to try and parse out.
+
+What I do know if that all of it was a waste. It was all a bunch of shit. And I regret it. Not because I want the money back, but because I can never get the life energy that went into getting the money back. I'd like to have that back, or to have at least channeled it into something that would have paid more dividends in the future, which is to say now.
+
+Which is not to say that I'm not grateful that I can at least get something for it. Thanks eBay. Plenty of stuff though -- typically the most expensive, most digital stuff -- is pretty much worthless. The $1200 TV from 2009? Sold for $40. IPod I bought for almost $400 just before I went traveling in 2006? Selling for less than the price of shipping it it to the buyer. So yeah, I have regrets. I also have a new appreciation for buying last year's model used.
+
+I ended up keeping the iPod. It's my new talisman to protect me from myself. It also does a fine job of playing music. Oddly enough for an Apple product, it still works after all these years. Even the battery is still good, though I put an extra 12V plug in the cab area of the bus just in case.
+
+
+It seems fitting to launch a new trip, just over ten years after the last one, with an artifact or two shared between them. And it sounds just as good as it ever did. Better even since I have some nicer headphones now. And yeah, I've played that Grant Lee Buffalo song with the banjo intro a time or two to reminisce. Every time I catch myself thinking, *I should really learn to play the banjo....*
+
+[2]: /jrnl/2015/10/8-track-gorilla diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/11/halloween.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/11/halloween.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fc99cf --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/11/halloween.html @@ -0,0 +1,374 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Halloween - 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="Every Halloween I complain about how hot it is. 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I don't actually recall this, but my wife does and reviewing some pictures from the last four years reveal that jackets have not been worn on Halloween in recent times." +} +</script> + +</head> +<body > + <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> + <div class="header-wrapper"> + <header class="site-banner"> + <div id="logo"> + <a href="/" title="Home">Luxagraf</a> + <span class="sitesubtitle">Walk Slowly</span> + </div> + <nav> + <ul> + <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="Stories of life on the road.">Jrnl</a> & <a href="/field-notes/" title="Short stories, snapshots of daily life on the road.">Field Notes</a></li> + <li><a href="/guide/" title="Advice, Tools, Tips and Tricks for Full Time Van or RV Life.">Guides</a></li> + <li><a href="/newsletter/" title="The 'friends of a long year' newsletter">newsletter</a></li> + <li><a href="/about" title="About Scott">About</a></li> + </ul> + </nav> + </header> + </div> + <ol class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/BreadcrumbList"> + <li itemprop="itemListElement" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ListItem"><a itemprop="item" href="/"><span itemprop="name">Home</span></a> → + <meta itemprop="position" content="1" /> + </li> + <li itemprop="itemListElement" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ListItem"> + + <a href="/jrnl/" itemprop="item"><span itemprop="name">jrnl</span></a> + <meta itemprop="position" content="2" /> + <meta itemprop="position" content="2" /> + </li> + </ol> + + + <main> + <article class="h-entry hentry entry-content content" itemscope itemType="http://schema.org/BlogPosting"> + <header id="header" class="post-header "> + <h1 class="p-name entry-title post-title" itemprop="headline">Halloween</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> + – <a href="" onclick="showMap(33.95636176760647, -83.40707773513215, { type:'point', lat:'33.95636176760647', lon:'-83.40707773513215'}); return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> + </div> + <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-11-14T22:41:54" itemprop="datePublished">November <span>14, 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> + </header> + <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody"> + <p>Every Halloween I complain about how hot it is. I don’t actually recall this, but my wife does and reviewing some pictures from the last four years reveal that jackets have not been worn on Halloween in recent times. Photos from 2002, however, show plenty of jackets in evidence. Something to think about. This is why the kids carved pumpkins in their underwear.</p> +<div class="cluster"> + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween_pic5.jpg 648w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween_picwide.jpg" alt="Carving pumpkins photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +<span class="row-2"> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_153405_halloween.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic33 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153405_halloween_pic33.jpg" alt="Pumpkin race photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_153405_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + +<figure class="pic33"> + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_153154_halloween.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153154_halloween_pic33.jpg" alt="Hugs photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_153154_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption=""They're just so pretty I want to hug them""></a> +<figcaption>“They’re just so pretty I want to hug them”</figcaption> +</figure> + + +</span> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween_pic66.jpg 820w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween_picwide.jpg" alt="Pumpkin admiration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</div> + +<p>I suspect this mis-memory of cold Halloweens is because I grew up in the Los Angeles area and always desperately wanted it to be cold for Halloween, but of course it never was. I finally get somewhere that it does actually get cold sometimes and I project Halloween into that world. </p> +<p>Unsurprisingly, for my wife anyway, it was hot on Halloween again this year. </p> +<p>That did not stop our peacock, mouse and shirtless-peacock-owl-creature from taking the streets by storm.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween.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/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween_picwide-med.jpg" alt="None photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween.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/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween_picwide-med.jpg" alt="None photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween.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/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween_picwide-med.jpg" alt="None photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween.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/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween_picwide-med.jpg" alt="None photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Two weeks later though it’s dipping down to the mid 30s at night and I still haven’t turned on the heat<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. Our house is so well insulated that as long as it hits 70 during the day we’re fine without heat. We do some baking, make all day soups and roasts that heat the house while they cook. The way your grandmother used to.</p> +<p>We won’t have heat in the bus so we may as well toughen up a bit while we can. And we do, until the first cloudy day that doesn’t crest the 60 degree mark. I give in and call the gas company, but it’s five days before they can come out. We warm up using a borrowed space heater.</p> +<p>Then a couple days later it’s back to hot. The Salvation Army bell ringer is dripping sweating standing five feet from the air conditioned interior of Bells Grocery and I seriously consider calling the gas company to say, “forget it”. Cold feels more like a novelty around here with every passing year. Sometimes I think we should revel in it, make sure we have strong memories of it. But of course we have a house to sell and not everyone thinks the way I do — so on it goes.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>Since the only gas in our house is the heater it’s cheaper to shut it down for the 9 months we don’t need it then it is to pay the “base” charge and taxes for 9 months. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</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> + </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/2016/10/useless-stuff" rel="prev" title=" Useless Stuff">Useless Stuff</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/11/nothing-finished-nothing-perfect" rel="next" title=" Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect">Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + +<p class="comments--header" style="text-align: center">Sorry, comments have been disabled for this post.</p> + +</main> + + + + <footer class="bl"> + <ul class="footer-nav"> + <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> + <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> + <li>Follow Along: + <ul> + <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">RSS</a></li> + <li><a href="/newsletter/" title="Luxagraf Email Updates">Email</a></li> + <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instagram">Instagram</a></li> + </ul> + </ul> + <div class="support">Support luxagraf: + <div class="donate-btn"> + <form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_top"> + <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_s-xclick"> + <input type="hidden" name="hosted_button_id" value="HYJFZQSBGJ8QQ"> + <input type="submit" name="submit" title="Donate to luxagraf via PayPal"> + </form> + </div> + <div class="donate-btn"> + <a class="liberapay-btn" href="https://liberapay.com/luxagraf/donate"><span>Donate</span></a> + </div> + </div> + <p id="license"> + © 2003-2020 + <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>. + </p> + </footer> + </div> + +<script> +document.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded", function(event) { + var leaflet = document.createElement('script'); 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I don't actually recall this, but my wife does and reviewing some pictures from the last four years reveal that jackets have not been worn on Halloween in recent times. Photos from 2002, however, show plenty of jackets in evidence. Something to think about. This is why the kids carved pumpkins in their underwear.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-27_152131_halloween.jpg" id="image-191" class="cluster picwide" />
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-27_153405_halloween.jpg" id="image-193" class="cluster pic33" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-27_153154_halloween.jpg" id="image-192" class="cluster pic33 caption" />
+</span>
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-27_153423_halloween.jpg" id="image-194" class="cluster picwide" />
+</div>
+
+I suspect this mis-memory of cold Halloweens is because I grew up in the Los Angeles area and always desperately wanted it to be cold for Halloween, but of course it never was. I finally get somewhere that it does actually get cold sometimes and I project Halloween into that world.
+
+Unsurprisingly, for my wife anyway, it was hot on Halloween again this year.
+
+That did not stop our peacock, mouse and shirtless-peacock-owl-creature from taking the streets by storm.
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-31_182338_halloween.jpg" id="image-197" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-31_184343_halloween.jpg" id="image-198" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-31_184351_halloween.jpg" id="image-199" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-10-31_191203_halloween.jpg" id="image-200" class="picwide" />
+
+Two weeks later though it's dipping down to the mid 30s at night and I still haven't turned on the heat[^1]. Our house is so well insulated that as long as it hits 70 during the day we're fine without heat. We do some baking, make all day soups and roasts that heat the house while they cook. The way your grandmother used to.
+
+We won't have heat in the bus so we may as well toughen up a bit while we can. And we do, until the first cloudy day that doesn't crest the 60 degree mark. I give in and call the gas company, but it's five days before they can come out. We warm up using a borrowed space heater.
+
+Then a couple days later it's back to hot. The Salvation Army bell ringer is dripping sweating standing five feet from the air conditioned interior of Bells Grocery and I seriously consider calling the gas company to say, "forget it". Cold feels more like a novelty around here with every passing year. Sometimes I think we should revel in it, make sure we have strong memories of it. But of course we have a house to sell and not everyone thinks the way I do -- so on it goes.
+
+[^1]: Since the only gas in our house is the heater it's cheaper to shut it down for the 9 months we don't need it then it is to pay the "base" charge and taxes for 9 months. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/11/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/11/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..983c51a --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/11/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,107 @@ +<!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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>November</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: November 2016</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/11/nothing-finished-nothing-perfect" title="Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect">Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect</a> + <time datetime="2016-11-20T00:46:51-05:00">Nov 20, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/11/halloween" title="Halloween">Halloween</a> + <time datetime="2016-11-14T22:41:54-05:00">Nov 14, 2016</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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It’s a handy way to reduce stress. Worried about the future? Think about how you would explain your worries to an alien visitor. You’d have to start the very beginning, explain the entire structure of life on earth and how you fit into it. By the end I’d be willing to bet you’ll feel a little better. That maybe it isn’t a big of a deal as you think.</p> +<p>Perspective can be the salve to thy sores, to paraphrase Milton.</p> +<p>I’ve been thinking about perspective and about what the Japanese call Wabi-Sabi a lot lately. Wabi-Sabi has a many different aspects to it, many of which are deeply entwined in Japanese culture in ways that an outsider like me is unlikely to ever fully appreciate, but the description I encountered, which has stuck with me is the idea that Wabi-Sabi means “nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup></p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris.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/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris_featured_jrnl.jpg 520w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris_picwide.jpg" alt="Iraqi restaurant interior Paris photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2011-05-31_015223_paris.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>A dozen years ago this week I was at an Iraqi restaurant in Paris. It was a tiny place near the cross roads of two very forgettable avenues, an unassuming door, a small menu board of the kind you see dozens of on nearly every block. I have no recollection of what drew us in, maybe just hunger. There were only four tables, a low ceiling, rock walls and heavy wooden chair and tables. The only people in it were the owner and his wife. To this day I would call it as the best meal of my life. The next morning I was due to get on a plain at Charles De Gaulle and disappear into the Indian subcontinent. I recorded nothing of the day in my journal, nothing of the meal even, though I remember every detail. There is an entry on this site that mentions it, but I haven’t reread it because I have realized it doesn’t matter what I thought. </p> +<p>Whatever I might have thought about that night at the time — and I did have the sense that it was an important moment in my life even at the time — I lacked the perspective to understand it then.</p> +<p>That was the beginning of the journey, that meal is where, for me anyway, a trajectory began that is still taking shape, there was something in that meal, something about eating such amazing food from a country that the country I came from was about to invade and attempt to destroy, something about stumbling through my terrible French, my even worse Arabic and somehow still managing to convey that the food was amazing, that the wine was the best I’ve ever had. </p> +<p>That meal that night was not an awakening so much as a realization that it is possible to duck the politics of the world, to side step the divisions created by the power brokers, the would-be malignant overlords and connect as human beings do, as they always have, by eating together, by talking, by drinking, by walking together down the street, by being human, because life is joy and wonder and love and food and drink and walking. Everything else is just the static background noise of existence. </p> +<p>All the beliefs, all that religions, all the politics, all the attempts to divide are doomed to fail because they fly in the face of the fundamental truth that everyone knows, no matter how hard we sometimes seek to avoid it — that the universe is incalculably immense, goes on forever and we are so small in it as to hardly be of it at all and yet here we are, able to look around, to appreciate the lap of the sea on the shore, the clatter of palm fronds, the whistle of wind in pines, the soft rain, the driving storm, the inhospitable mountains that welcome us home anyway. I don’t know why we’re here and neither do you, let’s have a meal, maybe a drink if you like and we’ll be friends. </p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>from Richard R. Powell’s book <cite>Wabi Sabi Simple</cite>. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</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> + </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/2016/11/halloween" rel="prev" title=" Halloween">Halloween</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/12/waiting-sun" rel="next" title=" Waiting for the Sun">Waiting for 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="180" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833420" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="34e2d262e7b30fba44674287b3234f88621009a6" 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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It's a handy way to reduce stress. Worried about the future? Think about how you would explain your worries to an alien visitor. You'd have to start the very beginning, explain the entire structure of life on earth and how you fit into it. By the end I'd be willing to bet you'll feel a little better. That maybe it isn't a big of a deal as you think.
+
+Perspective can be the salve to thy sores, to paraphrase Milton.
+
+I've been thinking about perspective and about what the Japanese call Wabi-Sabi a lot lately. Wabi-Sabi has a many different aspects to it, many of which are deeply entwined in Japanese culture in ways that an outsider like me is unlikely to ever fully appreciate, but the description I encountered, which has stuck with me is the idea that Wabi-Sabi means "nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect."[^1]
+
+<img src="images/2018/2011-05-31_015223_paris.jpg" id="image-201" class="picwide" />
+
+A dozen years ago this week I was at an Iraqi restaurant in Paris. It was a tiny place near the cross roads of two very forgettable avenues, an unassuming door, a small menu board of the kind you see dozens of on nearly every block. I have no recollection of what drew us in, maybe just hunger. There were only four tables, a low ceiling, rock walls and heavy wooden chair and tables. The only people in it were the owner and his wife. To this day I would call it as the best meal of my life. The next morning I was due to get on a plain at Charles De Gaulle and disappear into the Indian subcontinent. I recorded nothing of the day in my journal, nothing of the meal even, though I remember every detail. There is an entry on this site that mentions it, but I haven't reread it because I have realized it doesn't matter what I thought.
+
+Whatever I might have thought about that night at the time -- and I did have the sense that it was an important moment in my life even at the time -- I lacked the perspective to understand it then.
+
+That was the beginning of the journey, that meal is where, for me anyway, a trajectory began that is still taking shape, there was something in that meal, something about eating such amazing food from a country that the country I came from was about to invade and attempt to destroy, something about stumbling through my terrible French, my even worse Arabic and somehow still managing to convey that the food was amazing, that the wine was the best I've ever had.
+
+That meal that night was not an awakening so much as a realization that it is possible to duck the politics of the world, to side step the divisions created by the power brokers, the would-be malignant overlords and connect as human beings do, as they always have, by eating together, by talking, by drinking, by walking together down the street, by being human, because life is joy and wonder and love and food and drink and walking. Everything else is just the static background noise of existence.
+
+All the beliefs, all that religions, all the politics, all the attempts to divide are doomed to fail because they fly in the face of the fundamental truth that everyone knows, no matter how hard we sometimes seek to avoid it -- that the universe is incalculably immense, goes on forever and we are so small in it as to hardly be of it at all and yet here we are, able to look around, to appreciate the lap of the sea on the shore, the clatter of palm fronds, the whistle of wind in pines, the soft rain, the driving storm, the inhospitable mountains that welcome us home anyway. I don't know why we're here and neither do you, let's have a meal, maybe a drink if you like and we'll be friends.
+
+[^1]: from Richard R. Powell's book <cite>Wabi Sabi Simple</cite>. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4440eb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco.html @@ -0,0 +1,668 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>1969 Dodge Travco Before - 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="The 1969 Dodge Travco RV restoration project is nearly done"> + <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> + <link rel="alternate" + type="application/rss+xml" + title="Luxagraf RSS feed" + href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> + <link rel="stylesheet" + href="/media/screenv9.css" + media="screen"> + <link rel="stylesheet" href="/media/print.css" media="print" title="print" /> + <link rel="shortcut icon" href="/favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> + <link rel="manifest" href="/manifest.json" /> + <link rel="dns-prefetch" href="https://stats.luxagraf.net"> + + <link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco" /> + <meta name="ICBM" content="33.95822167485482, -83.40821499175449" /> + <meta name="geo.position" content="33.95822167485482; 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return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> + </div> + <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2016-12-31T14:01:18" itemprop="datePublished">December <span>31, 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> + </header> + <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody"> + <p>To close out the year I thought I’d post some images from all the work that I’ve done on the bus over the last 12 (really 18, but who’s counting) months. <span class="strike">It’s not finished yet, so the <em>1969 Dodge Travco After</em> post will have to wait another month</span>. It’s been over two years and I’ve never written the after post. I did, however, write a little thing about <a href="/1969-dodge-travco-motorhome">what it’s like for a family of five to live in a 1969 Dodge Travco Motorhome</a>, which you might enjoy. </p> +<p>Here’s some pictures of how she looked when we got her, along with some of the damage I uncovered and repaired.</p> +<div class="cluster"> + +<figure > + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820_picwide-med.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="The big blue bus as she was when she arrived"></a> +<figcaption>The big blue bus as she was when she arrived</figcaption> +</figure> + + +<span class="row-2"> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060426.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060426_pic66.jpg" alt="Front view of 1969 Dodge Travco RV photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060426.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060439.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060439_pic66.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060439.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> + + +<figure > + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918_picwide-med.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior pre-restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="The only shot I have of the original interior that's in focus. Just imagine the driver's seat isn't there."></a> +<figcaption>The only shot I have of the original interior that’s in focus. Just imagine the driver’s seat isn’t there.</figcaption> +</figure> + + +<span class="row-2"> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141444.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic33 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141444_pic33.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior pre-restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141444.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_071747.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic33 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_071747_pic33.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco driver's side cockpit photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_071747.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +<span class="row-2"> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141316.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic5 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141316_pic5.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior pre-restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141316.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141523.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic5 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141523_pic5.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior pre-restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141523.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>I know what you’re thinking, “hey, that looks pretty good, what is there to restore? Shouldn’t take long right?” Selective photography is why it looks good.</p> +<p>I started in the cockpit area because it was easiest thing to get at. The damage was pretty minimal too, just rip out the wood, throw away the fiberglass insulation and you’re ready to rebuild.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_143816.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_143816_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_143816_pic5.jpg 648w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco driver's side cockpit damage photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_143816.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>In fact tearing out the old wood and fiberglass was so easy I went ahead and did the rest. Long sleeves and a mask recommended. </p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-29_071955.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-29_071955_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-29_071955_pic5.jpg 648w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interoir removed. photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-29_071955.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Once that was done I dug into the actual structural damage. Fortunately there wasn’t that much. It was all water damage, most of which I knew about going in (except for under the water tank beneath the back bed, which was a surprise). </p> +<p>The window in the kitchen leaked badly and was the source of most water damage in the bus.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-01_102059.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-01_102059_pic5.jpg 648w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco water damage kitchen window photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-01_102059.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>In the back something around the water tank leaked. </p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-04-22_132332_XEqhLAS.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-04-22_132332_XEqhLAS_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-04-22_132332_XEqhLAS_pic5.jpg 648w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior water damage photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-04-22_132332_XEqhLAS.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>It took quite a while to figure out what was leaking in the back and where. In the end several things could have been the culprit, my guess is it was a combination of all of them — the back window seal, the running light anchor screws, and a ding in fiberglass near the taillight. Once I had the kitchen window resealed and all the leaks in the back fixed I patched the floor in both spots with 5/8in marine grade plywood.</p> +<p>Plywood digression: quite a few people restoring RVs and trailers seem confused about marine grade plywood. It’s not that special, just expensive. Marine grade doesn’t mean it’s sealed or somehow better wood. Marine grade is a technical term for “not quite as shitty as Home Depot plywood”. All it means is that there’s no gaps in among the layers of ply. You still need to seal it. I used some industrial strength deck sealant on the bottom and several layers of paint on the topside.</p> +<p>Here’s the basic floor repair process: </p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-03_102525_tzu3EDK.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-03_102525_tzu3EDK_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-03_102525_tzu3EDK_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior water damage photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-03_102525_tzu3EDK.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Identify damage."> + </a> +<figcaption>Identify damage.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_095844.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_095844_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_095844_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior water damage photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_095844.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Remove rotted area."> + </a> +<figcaption>Remove rotted area.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_102154.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_102154_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_102154_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior water damage repaired photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_102154.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Fill with marine grade plywood."> + </a> +<figcaption>Fill with marine grade plywood.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Rinse and repeat until you’re structurally sound again. Just make sure you’ve stopped all the leaks first.</p> +<p>Once the leaks had been stopped and the floor was repaired I got to start on the actual fun stuff (to me anyway) — rebuilding the walls and cabinetry. I didn’t take nearly as many photo as I wish I had during the process of rebuilding, but here’s a few random shots of various things.</p> +<figure class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_Q4Rm2R7.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_Q4Rm2R7_pictall.jpg Nonew, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_Q4Rm2R7_pic66.jpg 820w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_Q4Rm2R7.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Where possible I left the original wood, all the cabinets and drawers basically. Elsewhere I replaced the blue tinted luan panels with 1/4in birch paneling sealed with a non-toxic floor finish. The insulation is combination of noise damping car insulation and R5 XPS board for a total R value of maybe 12. Better than nothing."> + </a> +<figcaption>Where possible I left the original wood, all the cabinets and drawers basically. Elsewhere I replaced the blue tinted luan panels with 1/4in birch paneling sealed with a non-toxic floor finish. The insulation is combination of noise damping car insulation and R5 XPS board for a total R value of maybe 12. Better than nothing.</figcaption> +</figure> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161435.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161435_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161435_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161435.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161456.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161456_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161456_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161456.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830.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/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/2016-08-31_115523_bus-progress.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/2017/2016-08-31_115523_bus-progress_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/2016-08-31_115523_bus-progress_pic33.jpg 420w" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/2016-08-31_115523_bus-progress.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>For the most part I tried to keep everything the way it was. I did add a few things here and there though, most noticeably the cabinets above the windows, which I built in part for the storage and in part to make it easier to do the ceiling/wall junction by, well, covering it up.</p> +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-2"> + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359_pic66.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120500.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120500_pic66.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120500.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>And finally, here’s a few more up-to-date images from about a month ago.</p> +<div class="cluster"> + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223_picwide-med.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +<span class="row-2"> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093226.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093226_pic66.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093226.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_133227.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_133227_pic66.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior restoration photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_133227.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>There’s still a few things to do, like reupholster the seats, install the floor, and install a water tank, but she’s very close. Close enough that I’d hit the road as soon as the floor goes in (next week if I have the time) were it not for the whole need-to-sell-our-house thing. Next year.</p> +<div class="footnote"> +<hr> +<ol> +<li id="fn:1"> +<p>That’s RV restoration time. To calculate that value in the actual time that most of you live in, just multiply by 2. Or 3. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</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> + </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/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun" rel="prev" title=" Happy Birthday, Sun">Happy Birthday, Sun</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2017/01/wilds-of-winder" rel="next" title=" The Wilds of Winder">The Wilds of Winder</a> + </li> + </ul> + </nav> + </div> + + + + + + +<p class="comments--header">4 Comments</p> + + + + + + + <div class="comments--wrapper"> + + <div id="comment-2270" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Drew" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b>Drew</b></span> + <span class="when">January 19, 2017 at 1:48 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>Please tell me you kept the Elvis picture and tell him goodnight every night you fall asleep! I cant wait to read more.</p> + + </div> + </div> + + <div id="comment-2271" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> + <span class="when">January 19, 2017 at 4:15 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>@drew-</p> +<p>Thought about putting him in the bathroom. I think Elvis paintings should always be over the toilet. Respect.</p> +<p>But Elvis fell victim to one our ‘put everything on eBay’ purges.</p> + + </div> + </div> + + <div id="comment-2404" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Uncle Ron" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b>Uncle Ron</b></span> + <span class="when">March 25, 2017 at 9:32 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>Took me a coon age to find u guys Nice job !!! When do you plan to hit the road? I always wanted to convert a old time milk truck. Have fun, I will try to pay attention to where your at.</p> + + </div> + </div> + + <div id="comment-3622" class="comment"> + <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> + <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for DAVID" /> + </noscript> + <div class="comment--head"> + <span class="who"><b>DAVID</b></span> + <span class="when">November 23, 2018 at 12:53 p.m.</span> + </div> + + <div class="comment--body"> + + <p>I HAVE 1969 1 OWNER 33,000 MI MDL 270 IT WAS PURCHASED IN INGLEWOOD CA.1969,DROVE 4 5 VACATION’S & PARKED IN A BARN, NO REALLY.THE MAN & WOMAN WERE IN THEIR 90s WHEN I BOUGHT IT.THEY NEVER DROVE IT AGAIN AFTER 1980.318cu.(REBUILT 727 OVERDRIVE,NOT INSTALLED)WHEN I INSTALL IT & CLEAN IT UP (THE STOVE HAS NEVER BEEN USED)THE BATHROOM WITH SHOWER LOOK’S NEW.EVERTHING WORK’S WHEN I FINISH $12,000</p> + + </div> + </div> + + </div> + + +<div class="comment--form--wrapper comment-form-border"> + +<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="183" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833418" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="25399159637a167531b8281484769e9abe1c6ae7" 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. And please remember Kurt Vonnegut's rule: “god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” You can use Markdown or HTML to format your comments. The allowed tags are <code><b>, <i>, <em>, <strong>, <a></code>. 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It's been over two years and I've never written the after post. I did, however, write a little thing about [what it's like for a family of five to live in a 1969 Dodge Travco Motorhome](/1969-dodge-travco-motorhome), which you might enjoy.
+
+Here's some pictures of how she looked when we got her, along with some of the damage I uncovered and repaired.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-11_062820.jpg" id="image-218" class="cluster picwide caption" />
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060426.jpg" id="image-219" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_060439.jpg" id="image-227" class="cluster pic66" />
+</span>
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-18_092918.jpg" id="image-225" class="cluster picwide caption" />
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141444.jpg" id="image-221" class="cluster pic33" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_071747.jpg" id="image-226" class="cluster pic33" />
+</span>
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141316.jpg" id="image-220" class="cluster pic5" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-13_141523.jpg" id="image-222" class="cluster pic5" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+I know what you're thinking, "hey, that looks pretty good, what is there to restore? Shouldn't take long right?" Selective photography is why it looks good.
+
+ I started in the cockpit area because it was easiest thing to get at. The damage was pretty minimal too, just rip out the wood, throw away the fiberglass insulation and you're ready to rebuild.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-15_143816.jpg" id="image-230" class="picwide" />
+
+In fact tearing out the old wood and fiberglass was so easy I went ahead and did the rest. Long sleeves and a mask recommended.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-06-29_071955.jpg" id="image-231" class="picwide" />
+
+Once that was done I dug into the actual structural damage. Fortunately there wasn't that much. It was all water damage, most of which I knew about going in (except for under the water tank beneath the back bed, which was a surprise).
+
+The window in the kitchen leaked badly and was the source of most water damage in the bus.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-01_102059.jpg" id="image-232" class="picwide" />
+
+In the back something around the water tank leaked.
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-04-22_132332_XEqhLAS.jpg" id="image-229" class="picwide" />
+
+It took quite a while to figure out what was leaking in the back and where. In the end several things could have been the culprit, my guess is it was a combination of all of them -- the back window seal, the running light anchor screws, and a ding in fiberglass near the taillight. Once I had the kitchen window resealed and all the leaks in the back fixed I patched the floor in both spots with 5/8in marine grade plywood.
+
+Plywood digression: quite a few people restoring RVs and trailers seem confused about marine grade plywood. It's not that special, just expensive. Marine grade doesn't mean it's sealed or somehow better wood. Marine grade is a technical term for "not quite as shitty as Home Depot plywood". All it means is that there's no gaps in among the layers of ply. You still need to seal it. I used some industrial strength deck sealant on the bottom and several layers of paint on the topside.
+
+Here's the basic floor repair process:
+
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-03_102525_tzu3EDK.jpg" id="image-238" class="picwide caption" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_095844.jpg" id="image-235" class="picwide caption" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2015-07-10_102154.jpg" id="image-236" class="picwide caption" />
+
+
+Rinse and repeat until you're structurally sound again. Just make sure you've stopped all the leaks first.
+
+Once the leaks had been stopped and the floor was repaired I got to start on the actual fun stuff (to me anyway) -- rebuilding the walls and cabinetry. I didn't take nearly as many photo as I wish I had during the process of rebuilding, but here's a few random shots of various things.
+
+
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830_Q4Rm2R7.jpg" id="image-244" class="picwide caption" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161435.jpg" id="image-240" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_161456.jpg" id="image-239" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-04-04_160830.jpg" id="image-243" class="picwide" />
+<img src="images/2017/2016-08-31_115523_bus-progress.jpg" id="image-245" class="picwide" />
+
+
+For the most part I tried to keep everything the way it was. I did add a few things here and there though, most noticeably the cabinets above the windows, which I built in part for the storage and in part to make it easier to do the ceiling/wall junction by, well, covering it up.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120359.jpg" id="image-246" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-08-26_120500.jpg" id="image-247" class="cluster pic66" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+And finally, here's a few more up-to-date images from about a month ago.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093223.jpg" id="image-248" class="cluster picwide" />
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_093226.jpg" id="image-249" class="cluster pic66" />
+<img src="images/2017/1969-dodge-travco_2016-12-19_133227.jpg" id="image-250" class="cluster pic66" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+There's still a few things to do, like reupholster the seats, install the floor, and install a water tank, but she's very close. Close enough that I'd hit the road as soon as the floor goes in (next week if I have the time) were it not for the whole need-to-sell-our-house thing. Next year.
+
+[^1]: That's RV restoration time. To calculate that value in the actual time that most of you live in, just multiply by 2. Or 3. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd54b8d --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun.html @@ -0,0 +1,398 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html +class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> + +<head> + <title>Happy Birthday, 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="I've always found it a little curious that so many people, myself included, who don’t otherwise practice the Christian faith, choose to celebrate Christmas. 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The next day, today, the sun has its own birthday of sorts. Death and rebirth in one. The sun is talented like that.</p> +<p>As anyone with a birthday around now can tell you, the plethora of religious holidays nearby largely overshadow your own. Which is fine by me. As far as I can tell, Elliott doesn’t have a strong opinion about it all yet, though he currently very much dislikes being the center of attention, which makes birthdays perhaps a bit unsettling. I can relate.</p> +<p>Whatever the case our birthdays, combined with the Solstice the next day make for a nice little string of family celebrations. We hang decorations, enjoy a feast of sorts and celebrate the rekindling of light and hope at the depth of winter darkness. Or something like that.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan.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/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan_picwide-med.jpg" alt="candlelight dinner Alban Arthuan photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>It worked out nicely this year that the morning of the Solstice ice rimmed the world and temperatures dipped will below freezing. Winter is here.</p> +<div class="picwide"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan.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/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan_picwide-med.jpg" alt="frost on leaves, winter solstice morning photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>Of course if you look closely at the photo above you’ll notice we’re not exactly traditionalists about our solstice celebration. Soy sauce and chili garlic paste are not your typical Celtic accompaniments. Yule pigs being in short supply in our yard just now, we went for Momofuko’s Bo Ssam pork with some sticky rice and accompaniments. Next year I’ll make some Wassail, this year I had to make do with some beer lao dark. Sorry any Celtic forebearers, I like my Alban Arthuan with a little Southeast Asian flavor.</p> +<p>I’ve always found it a little curious that so many people, myself included, who don’t otherwise practice the Christian faith, choose to celebrate Christmas. Winter solstice makes far more sense as a holiday to latch onto if you want an excuse to celebrate this time of year. You don’t need to be religious at all to recognize that the earth does indeed wobble a bit, which means that here in the northern hemisphere the longest night of the year happens to fall on, for simplicity’s sake, December 21. Seems like as good a reason as any to celebrate. Naturally there’s more to it if you want there to be, but that’s up to you.</p> +<p>A happy solstice to all.</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/2016/12/waiting-sun" rel="prev" title=" Waiting for the Sun">Waiting for the Sun</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco" rel="next" title=" 1969 Dodge Travco Before">1969 Dodge Travco Before</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="182" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833419" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="4865edd95991ab08de435d4921060d710ea88cd0" 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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The next day, today, the sun has its own birthday of sorts. Death and rebirth in one. The sun is talented like that.
+
+As anyone with a birthday around now can tell you, the plethora of religious holidays nearby largely overshadow your own. Which is fine by me. As far as I can tell, Elliott doesn't have a strong opinion about it all yet, though he currently very much dislikes being the center of attention, which makes birthdays perhaps a bit unsettling. I can relate.
+
+Whatever the case our birthdays, combined with the Solstice the next day make for a nice little string of family celebrations. We hang decorations, enjoy a feast of sorts and celebrate the rekindling of light and hope at the depth of winter darkness. Or something like that.
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-12-21_180324_alban-arthuan.jpg" id="image-217" class="picwide" />
+
+It worked out nicely this year that the morning of the Solstice ice rimmed the world and temperatures dipped will below freezing. Winter is here.
+
+<img src="images/2016/2016-12-21_073905_alban-arthuan.jpg" id="image-216" class="picwide" />
+
+Of course if you look closely at the photo above you'll notice we're not exactly traditionalists about our solstice celebration. Soy sauce and chili garlic paste are not your typical Celtic accompaniments. Yule pigs being in short supply in our yard just now, we went for Momofuko's Bo Ssam pork with some sticky rice and accompaniments. Next year I'll make some Wassail, this year I had to make do with some beer lao dark. Sorry any Celtic forebearers, I like my Alban Arthuan with a little Southeast Asian flavor.
+
+I've always found it a little curious that so many people, myself included, who don’t otherwise practice the Christian faith, choose to celebrate Christmas. Winter solstice makes far more sense as a holiday to latch onto if you want an excuse to celebrate this time of year. You don't need to be religious at all to recognize that the earth does indeed wobble a bit, which means that here in the northern hemisphere the longest night of the year happens to fall on, for simplicity's sake, December 21. Seems like as good a reason as any to celebrate. Naturally there's more to it if you want there to be, but that's up to you.
+
+A happy solstice to all. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2a01f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/12/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,110 @@ +<!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/2016/">2016</a> →</li> + <li>December</li> + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1> Archive: December 2016</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco" title="1969 Dodge Travco Before">1969 Dodge Travco Before</a> + <time datetime="2016-12-31T14:01:18-05:00">Dec 31, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun" title="Happy Birthday, Sun">Happy Birthday, Sun</a> + <time datetime="2016-12-21T15:22:44-05:00">Dec 21, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2016/12/waiting-sun" title="Waiting for the Sun">Waiting for the Sun</a> + <time datetime="2016-12-19T16:08:05-05:00">Dec 19, 2016</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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The ginko down the street buried the still green grass in a blanket of brilliant yellow. The maples at the park had a banner year of blood red leaves. Even the oaks seemed brighter than usual. </p> +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-3"> + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-08_131825_leaves_03.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic33 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-08_131825_leaves_03_pic33.jpg" alt="Yellow Ginko leaves on grass photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-08_131825_leaves_03.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-08_131947_leaves_01.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic33 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-08_131947_leaves_01_pic33.jpg" alt="single yellow ginko leaf close-up photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-08_131947_leaves_01.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-08_131848_leaves.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic33 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-08_131848_leaves_pic33.jpg" alt="Yellow Ginko leaves hanging from branches photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-08_131848_leaves.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>We cleaned the house for showings. I knocked little items off the bus to do list. We took a trip to Augusta, GA. I inadvertently taught my son to cook. </p> +<p>We keep busy.</p> +<p>I’ve never been a big fan of waiting. I should preface that by saying that idling is not waiting. Waiting is the opposite of living. Waiting never ends. You’ll always be waiting. Waiting for things to change. Waiting for things to get better. Waiting for your proverbial ship to come in. Waiting is an alternative to living, a safe alternative that doesn’t require any of the risk and uncertainty and pain of actually living.</p> +<p>The secret to getting yourself out of this sort of deferred life thinking is realizing that there is nothing to wait for; there is only the living you’re not paying attention to right now. I don’t want to live like that, waiting for some imagined future. That’s not living. I want to live.</p> +<p>The days have turned cold and gray around these parts. Clouds settle in with a very Portland-esque determination about them. The world is moving into winter, you can see it, you can feel it. The blue birds are passing through, flashes of rusty red and blue feathers dart between the leafless branched of trees already settled into their long winter rest. Most other birds have gone to points south. Only the hardiest remain, the Carolina chickadees, the tufted titmouse, the occasional downy woodpecker.</p> +<div class="picfull"> + <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/110203_Feb_03_birds_05.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/2016/110203_Feb_03_birds_05_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/110203_Feb_03_birds_05_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="Chickadees on the bird feeder photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/110203_Feb_03_birds_05.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > + </a> +</div> + +<p>None of the birds are waiting. Neither are the squirrels constantly scurrying around the yard. I can’t tell if they’re already digging up nuts or still stashing more away. But it’s clear they’re not waiting. There is nothing to wait for, there’s only today and the increasing need for food that the winter cold brings. Though I think that’s a far bleaker way to put it than the birds would could they talk, at least judging by the playfulness they same to have in spite of the cold. Perhaps even because of it. After all, everything else is gone, which means less competition, fewer hawks in the sky. Perhaps winter is the best time to be a chickadee.</p> +<div class="cluster"> +<span class="row-2"> + +<figure class="pic5"> + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010484.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010484_pic5.jpg" alt="interior dashboard and console of 1969 dodge travco photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010484.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Needs a coat of paint."></a> +<figcaption>Needs a coat of paint.</figcaption> +</figure> + + + + +<figure class="pic5"> + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010500_eQTjnAn.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010500_eQTjnAn_pic5.jpg" alt="black walnut heart in 1969 Dodge Travco photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010500_eQTjnAn.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Finishing touches"></a> +<figcaption>Finishing touches</figcaption> +</figure> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>Winter is definitely not the best time to work on a 1969 Dodge Travco though. There’s no heater, not in the dash, not in the cabin. There is, however, a couch now, and it converts to a bunk bed. Okay, I still need to order the foam for the couch cushion and get the whole thing recovered, but I finally have a place to sleep at least. I’ve also finished up the kitchen, installed an entirely new propane system and slowly, meticulously sanded down the dash in preparation for a fresh coat of paint (or possible gel coat, still undecided).</p> +<div class="cluster"> + +<figure > + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010572.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class=" " sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_pic66.jpg 820w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_pic5.jpg 648w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_picwide.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010572_pic66.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge travco couch bed in bunk bed position photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010572.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="If you're thinking, wow, his feet are going to be hanging off in the kitchen when he sleeps *cough* you're right."></a> +<figcaption>If you’re thinking, wow, his feet are going to be hanging off in the kitchen when he sleeps *cough* you’re right.</figcaption> +</figure> + + +<span class="row-2"> + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010569.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic5 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010569_pic5.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge Travco interior photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010569.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010575.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic5 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010575_pic5.jpg" alt="1969 Dodge travco couch bed in couch position photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010575.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>The long winter nights mean less working time in the bus though. We seem to spend more time cooking in the winter. My daughters have been helping cook since they were around two. However, because they spend so much time in their own world, they don’t always <em>want</em> to help cook. Elliott on the other hand is sometimes excluded from the world of his sisters and therefore spends more time in the kitchen than they do. </p> +<p>One night he pulled a chair up to the stove and I let him help with some risotto. Now every meal he’s in the kitchen, dragging his chair up to stove. “Me, cook.” This morning he cooked the sausage. I put it in the pan and broke it up so it was easier to stir, but he did the rest and told me when it was done. I told him when it wasn’t pink anymore it was done. Then he scoops a few bites sausage out of the pan and onto the cutting board to cool.</p> +<div class="cluster"> +<div class="embed-container"> + <video poster="https://luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/out.jpg" controls="true" loop="false" preload="auto" id="1" class="vidautovid"> + <source src="https://luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/cooking-web.webm" type="video/webm"> + <source src="https://luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/cooking-web.mp4" type="video/mp4"> + Your browser does not support video playback via HTML5. + </video> +</div> +<span class="row-2"> + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010448.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic5 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/P1010448_pic5.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/P1010448.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + + + + <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-07_065158_cooking.jpg" title="view larger image "> + <img class="pic5 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2016/2016-12-07_065158_cooking_pic5.jpg" alt=" photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2016/2016-12-07_065158_cooking.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> + + +</span> +</div> + +<p>Of course nothing pulls the girls out of their own little world like noticing that someone else has carved out their own little world, especially if that someone is their bother. So I end up starting a few pans of food and turning them over to the kids while I drink coffee and stare out the window at the chickadees, wondering when the warmer weather will arrive.</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/2016/11/nothing-finished-nothing-perfect" rel="prev" title=" Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect">Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect</a> + </li> + <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun" rel="next" title=" Happy Birthday, Sun">Happy Birthday, 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="181" id="id_object_pk"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833419" id="id_timestamp"> + + + + <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="c09935015274c11e86ea1e3a77298b213dcc57dd" 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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The ginko down the street buried the still green grass in a blanket of brilliant yellow. The maples at the park had a banner year of blood red leaves. Even the oaks seemed brighter than usual.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<span class="row-3">
+<img src="images/2016/2016-12-08_131825_leaves_03.jpg" id="image-212" class="cluster pic33" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-12-08_131947_leaves_01.jpg" id="image-209" class="cluster pic33" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-12-08_131848_leaves.jpg" id="image-210" class="cluster pic33" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+We cleaned the house for showings. I knocked little items off the bus to do list. We took a trip to Augusta, GA. I inadvertently taught my son to cook.
+
+We keep busy.
+
+I've never been a big fan of waiting. I should preface that by saying that idling is not waiting. Waiting is the opposite of living. Waiting never ends. You'll always be waiting. Waiting for things to change. Waiting for things to get better. Waiting for your proverbial ship to come in. Waiting is an alternative to living, a safe alternative that doesn't require any of the risk and uncertainty and pain of actually living.
+
+The secret to getting yourself out of this sort of deferred life thinking is realizing that there is nothing to wait for; there is only the living you're not paying attention to right now. I don't want to live like that, waiting for some imagined future. That's not living. I want to live.
+
+The days have turned cold and gray around these parts. Clouds settle in with a very Portland-esque determination about them. The world is moving into winter, you can see it, you can feel it. The blue birds are passing through, flashes of rusty red and blue feathers dart between the leafless branched of trees already settled into their long winter rest. Most other birds have gone to points south. Only the hardiest remain, the Carolina chickadees, the tufted titmouse, the occasional downy woodpecker.
+
+<img src="images/2016/110203_Feb_03_birds_05.jpg" id="image-213" class="picfull" />
+
+None of the birds are waiting. Neither are the squirrels constantly scurrying around the yard. I can't tell if they're already digging up nuts or still stashing more away. But it's clear they're not waiting. There is nothing to wait for, there's only today and the increasing need for food that the winter cold brings. Though I think that's a far bleaker way to put it than the birds would could they talk, at least judging by the playfulness they same to have in spite of the cold. Perhaps even because of it. After all, everything else is gone, which means less competition, fewer hawks in the sky. Perhaps winter is the best time to be a chickadee.
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2016/P1010484.jpg" id="image-206" class="cluster pic5 caption" />
+<img src="images/2016/P1010500_eQTjnAn.jpg" id="image-208" class="cluster pic5 caption" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+Winter is definitely not the best time to work on a 1969 Dodge Travco though. There's no heater, not in the dash, not in the cabin. There is, however, a couch now, and it converts to a bunk bed. Okay, I still need to order the foam for the couch cushion and get the whole thing recovered, but I finally have a place to sleep at least. I've also finished up the kitchen, installed an entirely new propane system and slowly, meticulously sanded down the dash in preparation for a fresh coat of paint (or possible gel coat, still undecided).
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<img src="images/2016/P1010572.jpg" id="image-204" class="cluster picwide caption" />
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2016/P1010569.jpg" id="image-202" class="cluster pic5" />
+<img src="images/2016/P1010575.jpg" id="image-205" class="cluster pic5" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+The long winter nights mean less working time in the bus though. We seem to spend more time cooking in the winter. My daughters have been helping cook since they were around two. However, because they spend so much time in their own world, they don't always *want* to help cook. Elliott on the other hand is sometimes excluded from the world of his sisters and therefore spends more time in the kitchen than they do.
+
+One night he pulled a chair up to the stove and I let him help with some risotto. Now every meal he's in the kitchen, dragging his chair up to stove. "Me, cook." This morning he cooked the sausage. I put it in the pan and broke it up so it was easier to stir, but he did the rest and told me when it was done. I told him when it wasn't pink anymore it was done. Then he scoops a few bites sausage out of the pan and onto the cutting board to cool.
+
+
+<div class="cluster">
+<div class="embed-container">
+ <video poster="https://luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/out.jpg" controls="true" loop="false" preload="auto" id="1" class="vidautovid">
+ <source src="https://luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/cooking-web.webm" type="video/webm">
+ <source src="https://luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/cooking-web.mp4" type="video/mp4">
+ Your browser does not support video playback via HTML5.
+ </video>
+</div>
+<span class="row-2">
+<img src="images/2016/P1010448.jpg" id="image-215" class="cluster pic5" />
+<img src="images/2016/2016-12-07_065158_cooking.jpg" id="image-214" class="cluster pic5" />
+</span>
+</div>
+
+Of course nothing pulls the girls out of their own little world like noticing that someone else has carved out their own little world, especially if that someone is their bother. So I end up starting a few pans of food and turning them over to the kids while I drink coffee and stare out the window at the chickadees, wondering when the warmer weather will arrive. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/index.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d20d936 --- /dev/null +++ b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2016/index.html @@ -0,0 +1,204 @@ +<!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" + 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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>2016</li> + + </ul> + <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> + <h1>2016, on luxagraf</h1> + <ul class="date-archive"> + <li class="dater"><span>January 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/01/bring-on-the-change" title="Bring on the Change">Bring on the Change</a> + <time datetime="2016-01-01T02:13:13-05:00">Jan 01, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>March 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/03/another-spring" title="Another Spring">Another 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 Air</a> + <time datetime="2016-03-08T15:44:28-05:00">Mar 08, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>May 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/05/back-from-somewhere" title="Back From Somewhere">Back From Somewhere</a> + <time datetime="2016-05-22T00:47:39-04:00">May 22, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/05/root-down" title="Root Down">Root Down</a> + <time datetime="2016-05-15T01:48:01-04:00">May 15, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>June 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/06/engine" title="Engine">Engine</a> + <time datetime="2016-06-05T12:15:19-04:00">Jun 05, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>July 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/07/change-ideas-the-worst" title="Change of Ideas (The Worst)">Change of Ideas (The Worst)</a> + <time datetime="2016-07-14T15:37:09-04:00">Jul 14, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/07/what-are-you-going-to-do" title="What Are You Going to Do?">What Are You Going to Do?</a> + <time datetime="2016-07-12T12:56:29-04:00">Jul 12, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>September 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/equinox" title="Equinox">Equinox</a> + <time datetime="2016-09-22T02:30:53-04:00">Sep 22, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/cloudland-canyon" title="Cloudland Canyon">Cloudland Canyon</a> + <time datetime="2016-09-19T20:53:01-04:00">Sep 19, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/09/autumn-bus-update" title="Autumn Bus Update">Autumn Bus Update</a> + <time datetime="2016-09-15T00:04:41-04:00">Sep 15, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>October 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/10/useless-stuff" title="Useless Stuff">Useless Stuff</a> + <time datetime="2016-10-16T00:25:11-04:00">Oct 16, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>November 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/11/nothing-finished-nothing-perfect" title="Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect">Nothing is Finished, Nothing is Perfect</a> + <time datetime="2016-11-20T00:46:51-05:00">Nov 20, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/11/halloween" title="Halloween">Halloween</a> + <time datetime="2016-11-14T22:41:54-05:00">Nov 14, 2016</time> + </li> + </ul> + </li> + <li class="dater"><span>December 2016</span> + <ul> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/12/1969-dodge-travco" title="1969 Dodge Travco Before">1969 Dodge Travco Before</a> + <time datetime="2016-12-31T14:01:18-05:00">Dec 31, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/12/happy-birthday-sun" title="Happy Birthday, Sun">Happy Birthday, Sun</a> + <time datetime="2016-12-21T15:22:44-05:00">Dec 21, 2016</time> + </li> + <li class="arc-item"> + <a href="/jrnl/2016/12/waiting-sun" title="Waiting for the Sun">Waiting for the Sun</a> + <time datetime="2016-12-19T16:08:05-05:00">Dec 19, 2016</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> + 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