added new post and some essays I'm working on

4 files changed, 121 insertions, 21 deletions

diff --git a/leopold-essay.txt b/leopold-essay.txt
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+++ b/leopold-essay.txt
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+The West of which I speak is but another name for the Wild; and what I have been preparing to say is, that in Wildness is the preservation of the world. 
+
+One of Thoreau's most quoted phrases claims that "in wildness lies the preservation of the world". What fewer people know is the lives before it, which amount to little more than Thoreau embracing the westerward drive of empire so common in his day. "The West of which I speak is but another name for the Wild", he writes, not too far off of Horace Greeley's more famous lines.  
+
+
+
+Aldo Leopold wrote to tell us what we were losing. The last grizzly killed in arizona, the jaguars disappearing from the banks of the grand canyon, the ways countelss birds clung to existance in the islands of native prarire in his farm speckled home country of Sand county.
+
+All that was gone long before I was born. Or mostly gone anyway. There were perhaps pockets you could find. buy enough 7.5 topo maps and you were bound to find some relatively blank spots. The superstition mountains. The choclolate mountains. The chiricauas, the Dragons. The sounter edge of arizona retained pockets of wildness here an there.
+
+my father and I made forays into such places. He always looking for snails. Me looking for something I could not put my finger on at the time. Some wildness that for a few moments here and there did not feel like it was missing.
+
+We called half a dozen or more car rental places, but each time the minute the words four wheel drive and Dragoon Mountains came together in the same breath the lin went dead suspriciously soon after. Finaly we stumbled upon roadrunner car rentals, which had an old Dodge truck we could use. Roadrunner proved to be little more than a single wide trailer in front of car wrecking lot, which did not inspire confidence, but did in fact have a dirt brown dodge truck that looked like it was probably held to gether with tin cans, bailing wire and a healthy amount of duct tape. There seemed to be a mutual don't ask don't tell policy at work in which if we didn't ask the owner about the condition of the truck he wouldn't ask what sort of roads we plannned to take it down.
+
+We brought the thing home amid belches of smoke and accidental peeling of the nearly bald rear tires. It was those tires we were worried about. The roads we planned to take were intended for four wheel drive jeeps, but all we had was a lightweight truck with bald tires. Sometimes when adventurous land is running low you have to create your own adventure.
+
+And so we did. 
+
+Grandpa eyeing the truck. My mom did not come. This was before cellphones when a modicum of danger still existed in travel.
+
+The drive in, building our own road over the ruts with split fire wood. Piling rock in the back of the truck to weigh it down so the rear wheel drive tires would have some bite/purchase in the rutted dirt. 
+
+the widlness of the west slope versus the tamed campgrounds of the east slope. The chiricuauas in the distance, the history of Cochice and jeffer's, cave creek, Jeffer's house, the dark roots of the blank walnut stump that had become a coffee table.
+
+The last grizzly in arisona.
+
+We did no so much reach a camp as reach a point at which we -- the truck my father and I -- seemed to wordlessly conclude that this is as far as we were going. We set up the tent amid fading light. It was far to dry and windy, to say nothing of the general treeless of the west slope of the mountains for a camp fire fire. We cooked over a Coleman stove borrowed from my grandfather
+
+Mysterious foot prints. There are plenty of possible explanations of the footprints, though they all stretch credulity enough that I don't quite believe any of them. It could have been a barefoot hiker with extrorinarily large feet. It could have been bigfoot, the ghost of cochise, geronimo, an entirely non-hominid source, a hominid stepping in the larger track of something else. Whatever it was though, the location it was in spoke of concealment. If it was a thing, the path it took was one you would take if you wished to stay hidden from view by anyone on the rock summit above or from the trail below. These were the footrpints of something that did not want to be seen and that realization only fueled the mystery over the years.
+
+It's been well over two decades now since I set foot in the Dragoons, but I still think about them. About those footprints. I think two about my dissatifaction with explanations and wonder if herpahs thsi isn't a defense against the lose of wildness. If I explain them away the wildness fades. With so much wildness already gone this feels like too great of a cost so I live with mystery.
+
diff --git a/published/2016-12-19_waiting-sun.txt b/published/2016-12-19_waiting-sun.txt
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+++ b/published/2016-12-19_waiting-sun.txt
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+November came and went. 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="self-embed-container">
+	<video poster="https://live.luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/out.jpg" controls="true" loop="false" preload="auto" id="1" class="vidautovid">
+		<source src="https://live.luxagraf.net/media/images/videos/2016/cooking-web.webm" type="video/webm">
+		<source src="https://live.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/stack.txt b/stack.txt
index ec66df2..785a334 100644
--- a/stack.txt
+++ b/stack.txt
@@ -1,3 +1,5 @@
+Find out enough about used lenses to be able to buy low and sell high via ebay and local.
+
 People email me all the time to ask how I make luxagraf. It's easier to talk about tools than methods, so while I can't really explain how I do this to you in any meaningful way -- beyond saying, I just write, take pictures and combine them into stories, which I recognize is not particularly helpful -- here's a look at the tools I use. Because, consumerism! Seriously, don't buy any of this stuff, you don't need it. I don't need it. I could get by with less. I should get by with less.
 
 ## Hardware 
@@ -6,19 +8,41 @@ People email me all the time to ask how I make luxagraf. It's easier to talk abo
 
 My primary "device" is my notebook. I don't have a fancy notebook. I use whatever I happened to grab on my way out of the bus. I have quite a few (from moleskins to cheapo spirals). I'm not all that picky about notebooks, if they have paper in them I'm happy enough. But I could devote thousands and thousands of words to pens. For what seems like forever I was religiously devoted to the Uniball Roller Stick Pen in micro point, which I used to swipe from my dad's desk drawer back in high school. It's a lovely pen, but the last time I went to get a box they were out so I grabbed a couple of Uniball Vision pens, which also fill my two primary requirements in a pen: 1) it writes well 2) I can buy it almost anywhere for next to nothing.
 
+In a moment of non-frugality I did once buy a fancy pen from Japan that takes Parker ink refills which I can never find so it ends up spending more time shoved in a drawer than in my hand.
+
 ### laptop
 
-My laptop is a Lenovo <span class="strike">x230</span>, oops, x240, from, uh, maybe 2012 or so? I bought it off eBay for $300. I upgraded the hard drives and put in an HD screen, which brought the total outlay to $550, which is really way too much to spend on a computer these days, but my excuse is that I make money using it. 
+My laptop is a Lenovo <span class="strike">x230</span>, oops, x240. I bought it off eBay for $300. I upgraded the hard drives and put in an HD screen, which brought the total outlay to $550, which is really way too much to spend on a computer these days, but my excuse is that I make money using it. 
 
-Why this particular laptop? It's small and the battery lasts quite a while (like 18 hrs when I'm writing, more 15 when editing photos). It also has a removable battery and can be upgraded by the user. I packed in almost 3TB of disk storage, which is nice. It also makes a high pitch whining noise that drives me crazy whenever I'm in a quiet room with it. But since I mostly use it outdoors, sitting around our camps, this is rarely an issue.
+Why this particular laptop? It's small and the battery lasts quite a while (like 15 hrs when I'm writing, more 12 when editing photos). It also has a removable battery and can be upgraded by the user. I packed in almost 3TB of disk storage, which is nice. It does make a high pitch whining noise that drives me crazy whenever I'm in a quiet room with it, but since I mostly use it outdoors, sitting around our camps, this is rarely an issue.
 
 Still, like I said, I could get by with less. I should get by with less.
 
 ### Camera
 
-I have used many different cameras at different points in time on this site. I went around the world the first time with a Canon point and shoot of some sort. Then I got a Panasonic GF-1, which I loved. There's also quite a few pics taken with other micro four-thirds cameras I tested for Wired. But, since 2016 I've been shooting primarily with two cameras, both by Nikon. 
+I have used many different cameras at different points in time on this site. I went around the world the first time with a Canon point and shoot of some sort. Then I got a Panasonic GF-1, which I loved. There's also quite a few pics taken with other micro four-thirds cameras I tested for Wired. But, since 2016 I've been shooting primarily with two cameras, one digital, one film.
+
+The digital is a Sony A7ii, a full frame mirrorless camera. I bought it specifically because it's the only full frame digital camera available that lets me use the old lens that I love. Without the old lenses I find the Sony's output to be a little digital for my tastes. The RAW files from the A7ii have wonderful dynamic range, which was the other selling point for me.
+
+All of my lenses are manual focus. After about 2016 there are no autofocus shots on this site. 
+
+I grew up using all manual focus cameras. Autofocus was probably around by the time I picked up a camera, but I never had it. My father had (probably still has) a screw mount Pentax. I bought a Minolta with money from a high school job. Eventually I upgraded to a Nikon F3. While there are advantages to autofocus, none of them are significant for the type of photos I like to make. 
+
+####lenses
+
+One thing about shoot manual lenses is that there are a tone of cheap manual lenses out there. I have seen amazing photos produced with $10 lenses. Learn to manual focus a lens is like opening a door into a secret world. A secret world where lenses are cheap. The net result of my foray into this world is that I have a ridiculous collection of lenses. And we live in a bus, lord knows what I'd have if we had more space.
+
+That said, about 90% of the time I have a very fast, lightweight Voigtlander 40mm 1.4 attached to the A7. I love this lens. It gets a lot of hate on the internets. People don't like the bokeh I guess. I love it.
+
+I never felt right with 50mm lenses back in my film days. I played with 35mm, but it felt too wide to be normal, not wide enough to be wide. When I bought the GF1 I picked up a 40mm on Craig Mod's advice and fell in love with this length. This is how I see. I love this lens. Love it. 
+
+At the wide end of the spectrum I have the Voigtlander 20mm. Between this and the previous I realize I've developed a weird obsession with Voigtlander.
+
+For macro and portraits I use the wonderful Tokina AT-X Macro 90mm. There's a great review of this lens over at [Phillip reeve's blog][https://phillipreeve.net/blog/tokina-x-macro-90mm-12-5-review/]. It blows my mind that you can buy a lens this good (complete with doubler) for less than $400.
+
+I also have a Rokinon 12mm f/2.8 fisheye because when your home is less than 26ft long and 8ft wide you need a fisheye.
 
-The first is the digital, a Nikon D600 (eBay, about $600). About 90% of the time I have a very fast, lightweight Nikon 35mm f/2 lens on it. This is what I use for taking pictures of the kids playing and when we're walking around new towns. For landscapes I generally use the Nikon 20mm f/2.8, a manual focus lens that I really, really love. Other lenses include a Nikon 70-300 zoom I use for the occasional bird or moose photo, and a Rokinon 12mm Fisheye lens for shooting in tight spaces like the big blue bus. 
+###Film
 
 The other camera is 35mm film, a Nikon FE that I picked up off eBay (notice a running theme here? Buy used and you can afford to travel more) for $75. That price blows my mind since once upon a time as a teenager I worked for months to afford nearly the same camera. Anyway, I worry that all our digital photos will disappear one day so I wanted to leave behind some physical artifacts for my kids to dig through later in life. And printing digital photos is not the same. I typically process the color film at Costco when we're in the U.S. and send off of the black and white to a lab. But the b&w is really expensive so I mainly shoot color these days. A handful of the prints stay with us in the bus, the rest are shipped to relatives for relatively safe keeping.
 
diff --git a/waiting.txt b/waiting.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index fd5a346..0000000
--- a/waiting.txt
+++ /dev/null
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-November came and went. 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. 
-
-I watched it all, waiting.  We cleaned the house for showings, I knocked little items off the bus todo list and inadvertently taught my son to cook.
-
-The bus has a couch now, complete with convertible bunk bed. Okay, I still need to order the foam for the couch cushion and get the whole setup 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).
-
-The long winter nights mean less working time in the bus though. I come in earlier and spend more time cooking than usual in the winter. And it's nearly bourbon bacon bark time. 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 then they do. 
-
-One night I pulled a chair up to the stove and let him help with some risotto. Now every meal he's in the kitchen, dragging his chair up to stove. "Me, cook." He's not quite two, but he does pretty well. In fact, just this morning he cooked our sausage for us. I put it in the pan and broke it up, but he did the rest and told me when it was done. 
-
-Naturally what their brother does my daughters must do too. So now I have all kinds of helpers in the kitchen. Unfortunately that means I have less to do. Which means more time to wait.
-
-I've never been a big fan of waiting. Waiting gets celebrated a lot, as if life deferred were somehow life gained, rather than what it actually is -- life lost. That deferral is the whole basis of modern industrial mythology, which can be summed up roughly as: work hard now for your future reward. This life approach underlies the basis of the dominant religions, economic systems and social structure of modern western life. And it's all a load of shit.
-
-The secret to getting yourself out of this sort of deferred life is realizing that there is no waiting. There is just existence you're not paying attention to. The world does not wait for spring, the world lives in winter until spring and knows that spring will not come any faster than Spring will come. 
-
-So we live in winter even when deep down we might wanting warmer weather.