garote: (programmer)

I made a list like this about 7 years ago. Today I wondered: What's changed?

A lot less is honestly impressive now, so I've rearranged the entries, and added some new stuff (the items in green).

Totally unsurprising:

  1. Call people on the phone.
  2. Keep an address book that is synchronized online.
  3. Keep appointments with a calendar that is synchronized online.
  4. Set alarms and timers, including vibrating alarms.
  5. Do basic math.
  6. Type and sync unformatted notes.
  7. Send and receive emails, text messages, instant-messages, twitter alerts, et cetera.
  8. Record, play back, and sync voice memos.
  9. Use as a portable hard-drive (Air-Sharing, FileMagnet).
  10. Estimate currency conversions using up-to-date ratios (Currency).
  11. Take photos with GPS tags embedded, and post them online or send them to people immediately.
  12. Make international telephone calls at a discount (Skype, etc).
  13. Get local and remote weather forecasts.
  14. Watch movies in a tiny screen (Netflix).
  15. Purchase and read e-books and music.
  16. Pair with a physical keyboard for easier data-entry.
  17. Subscribe to video/audio podcasts, play them, and download current episodes.
  18. Scrawl pictures with my finger and save them (Scribble).
  19. Download and install enhancements to the device (App Store).
  20. Record a track of my physical location, and play it back later.
  21. Remotely view and crudely interact with the screen of my desktop or laptop (VNC, WinAdmin)
  22. Search on a map for services of all kinds, and call them up on the phone with one button.
  23. See a view of my living room, from a wifi camera attached to the wall, in real time, from across the country.
  24. Take a picture of a document and have it automatically read all the text on the document and turn it into a PDF.

Somewhat impressive or surprising:

  1. Mark areas of poor signal coverage and automatically report them to my provider.
  2. Connect to a television and present movie and slide shows.
  3. Calculate resistor color codes (OhmEE, ResistorCC).
  4. Record and do minor edits to a video, then place it online or send it to someone immediately.
  5. View and manage my bank accounts fairly recurely
  6. Locate the nearest movie theaters, see their schedules, and book tickets (Fandango, Flixster).
  7. Lose all my money in the stock market (E*TRADE Mobile Pro).
  8. Listen to a continuous mix of new music that the device thinks I will like, based on an ongoing analysis of my selections (Pandora)
  9. Wirelessly control nearby lighting fixtures, dimmers, and consoles (Luminair (DMX lighting control)).
  10. Display a number pad, and pair it with a nearby computer keyboard that lacks a number pad (NumberKey).
  11. Spot tornadoes and get advance warnings with weather graphs (Radar Scope).
  12. Browse my home music collection on it and play music through speakers in different rooms of my house (Remote with an AirPort Express).
  13. Track plane flight status, with real-time departure info, gate delays, and flight locations (FlightTrack, Live Flight Tracker).
  14. Attach a thumb-sized credit card reader and conduct business transactions (Square).
  15. Have a two-way video chat with someone in another country.
  16. Get a map, satellite view, or street view, all over the world, see my present location, and calculate walking or driving directions.
  17. Ask basic math questions out loud, and get the answer spoken back to me, e.g. "What's the square root of 1207?" "The answer is approximately 34.7419."
  18. Automatically grab photos and videos from my Canon DSLR camera, as I take them, and perform a variety of scripted actions on them. (ShutterSnitch)
  19. Poke a button in my chat history with a person, and see their exact location (assuming they're with their phone) on a map, accurate to within the last 5 seconds.
  20. Learn a new language 15 minutes at a time, on an app that speaks the language back to me.
  21. Attach a cardboard sleeve to the phone, with a pair of lenses in it, turning it into a 3D VR headset that can play back videos I record with my 360-degree handheld recorder.
  22. Track packages and get a notification seconds after they're placed on my doorstep.
  23. Automatically gather stats on my car's fuel efficiency, diagnose check engine light problems, and compile maps and mileage info on all my car trips. (Automatic)

Impressive or surprising:

  1. Mine a database of real-estate listings, including purchase and tax histories. (ZipRealty).
  2. Search for and then book international flights and hotels across multiple airlines (KAYAK HD).
  3. Carry and use a reference for how to recognize various animal tracks (MyNature Animal Tracks).
  4. Carry and use a reference for how to tie various knots, with video and written tutorials (Knot Guide).
  5. Scan barcodes of almost any product, accessing a worldwide database of products to both identify the item scanned and provide comparative pricing and locating (RedLaser).
  6. Control the presentation of slideshows (Keynote Remote).
  7. Tune my guitar (Guitar Toolkit, OmniTuner, TyroTuner).
  8. Record my voice as I sing along to music, measure my accuracy, and apply automatic pitch correction and harmony (Glee Karaoke).
  9. Measure the level and slope of flat objects and sides (Clinometer).
  10. Make a surprisingly accurate guess at the title of whatever music is playing in the environment (Shazam).
  11. Strum a mathematically emulated guitar (Twang).
  12. Mine and cache a real-time database of plane preflight information, including icing forecasts, wind mappings, radar and satellite images, flight rule and terminal procedure listings, approach plates, VFR and IFR charts, etc (ForeFlight).
  13. Act as a crude and uncalibrated seismometer (Seismometer).
  14. Hold the phone up to the sky and get a map of what constellations should be visible in that direction (Starmap, Star Walk).
  15. Remotely lock, unlock, and start my automobile (Viper Remote Start System, Mercedes-Benz mbrace).
  16. Record the amount of tossing and turning done in bed, and use the data to time a wakeup alarm to avoid REM sleep (Sleep Cycle).
  17. Automatically report back to the public works department when I hit a pothole in the road, so the accumulated data can be used to dispatch repairs (Street Bump).
  18. Get an automatic announcement about which lane I need to move to as I approach an interchange on the freeway.
  19. Shoot video that is processed to look like an ink sketch on paper, in real-time, at 60 frames a second.
  20. Secure my phone with my fingerprint, scanned fast enough that it unlocks the phone in less than a quarter of a second.
  21. Have my photos automatically organized by who's in each one ... including photos of my cat.
  22. Attach it to a wireless controller, and fly a drone with it, showing and recording its location and everything it sees. (DJI Go 4)
  23. Hold it up to a sign written in a foreign language, and have the translation appear in the picture as though it's written on the sign. (Translate)
  24. Rent a bicycle from a kiosk downtown. (Zagster)

Very impressive or surprising:

  1. Locate and reserve a nearby rental car, and when you get to it, unlock it (Zipcar).
  2. Explore 3D recreations of large cities around the world, at 60 frames a second, so detailed that I can see into the windows of my own car parked on the street.
  3. Summon a person to my door, driving their own car, who will then take me to my destination for less than a taxi would charge. (lyft)
  4. Secure my phone with a 3D scan of my own face, more accurate than using my fingerprint, validated in less than half a second.
  5. Speak to the phone in English, and have it translate my sentence into Mandarin and speak it back to me, after less than a second of delay.

What do you think, fellow modern people? Are there any items here I've forgotten about? Any new developments?

garote: (bedroom 1)

As a writing exercise, I've chosen the ten books, albums, movies, and games that were most important in defining me as a person, and challenged myself to explain why.

Some of these set my artistic tone or left huge imprints on my personality, others changed the course of my life or career. With each item I can say, "if not for this, I would be someone else right now." But why? It's a hard question to answer. A strong feeling would compel me to put something on the list, and then I'd realize I had no clue how to unpack that feeling.

I'm doing the movies chronologically. Number four:

Bodacious Ta-Tas (1985)

Quite a few times I pondered just dropping this movie from the list, because I knew it would be hard to write about with both honesty and class. But the challenge is the point of this writing exercise, isn't it? Be warned; if discussions of pornography or masturbation disturb you, you should probably browse somewhere else.

Bear with me; this is going to take a lot of unpacking. )

Whew, that was a long one!

garote: (Default)

As a writing exercise, I've chosen the ten books, albums, movies, and games that were most important in defining me as a person, and challenged myself to explain why. With the movies, I'm going chronologically, and this is number 3.

Ghostbusters (1984)

I was eight years old when this movie came out. I already loved all things Halloween, and a mashup of ghosts with sci-fi contraptions and nerdy jokes was perfect for me. The visual effects were great too, and it set the template for what I thought ghosts should be like: Gassy neon light shows, drifting around doing their own thing. If you got in their way they would attack at you. Then if you didn't run away, something awful and mysterious would happen and you'd never be seen again. So basically, ghosts were like elephants. Except they were more colorful, and made less noise going through a wall.

Also, scientists were fun, and could act like total weirdos as long as they got their work done. That weirdness got injected into my own life as pile of catchphrases, like, "Dogs and cats, living together; mass hysteria!" and "There is no [insert random thing here], only Zuul!" and "I love this plan! I'm excited to be a part of it! LET'S DO IT!" and of course, "Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES." And so many others. My friends and I swapped these around endlessly until they were part of our grammar. There were also quotes that I didn't get until much later. I was in my 30's before I really understood, "You've never been out of college. You don't know what it's like out there. I worked in the private sector. They expect results!" And now I find it hilarious that Louis invited all his work clients to a party and called it a "promotional expense."

The music was fantastic too. I bought the soundtrack on cassette and played it on the living room stereo, and danced and rolled around on the carpet. My favorites were the "Ghostbusters Main Theme", and then "Dana's Theme" which immediately followed it.

Ah yes, and Sigourney Weaver was in this movie, and I immediately liked her. Not because her character got possessed by a demon and acted all vampy - which I found incomprehensible as an eight-year-old - but because she projected a sort of comfortable maturity. Looking back, I have to say that if she knew what she was doing as an actor - which she probably did - it was very smart to take what was really a "damsel in distress" and "love interest" role and rearrange it to say "I'm perfectly fine on my own and I have my shit together, but circumstances made me reach out to these Ghostbuster guys, and Peter is a goofball but I am allowing myself to be charmed by him because he is being a gentleman at the same time." Some other actress could have taken her scenes and lines, and been flirty and jumpy and clingy, and then just swooned into Peter's arms at the end of the film, but Sigourney chose to deliver something else, and it managed to show how her character might honestly be attracted to someone like Peter in the first place, and vice-versa.

So, take that over to me, the preteen goofball in the audience: Here's a classy lady who might actually want to be your girlfriend some day. Wow!

My crush on her got a huge boost, of course, when I saw Aliens two years later.

So why was this movie so influential to me, aside from the endless quoting? Why is Ghostbusters on this list, when Return Of The Jedi (which came out just the year before) didn't make it? Mostly because of a statement it makes with its characters.

This movie came out in 1984, the same year that "Revenge Of The Nerds" was in theaters. It's hard to understand now, but back in 1984 "nerds" were actually seen as a minority group that needed some kind of "revenge." How the times have changed! Ghostbusters made a different statement to nerds: It's not you versus "jocks". It's not you versus anyone. If you don't feel like you "fit in", don't worry about it. Stick with your friends, feed your obsessions, and try to have fun -- because you can be aggressively weird and still command respect when your weirdness makes you very good at your job.

That was the key idea. Even if I wasn't going to save New York City from an apocalypse, I could still find some way to make my weirder nature useful, whether that took the form of being a hardcore scientist like Egon, an excited collaborator like Ray, a steady hand like Winston, or a goofball like Peter. Like the Ghostbusters, my friends were an ensemble of nerds, and perhaps the future could be bright for us... Or at least better than the confusion and sense of rejection we felt from most other kids our age. This movie whispered to me that perhaps our "revenge" for suffering as nerdy kids could be to thrive as nerdy adults.

Also, when someone asks you, if you're a god, you say YES !!!

garote: (Default)

This is a classic "dynamic programming" problem that job applicants in the software industry are sometimes given. The problem is this:

Given a staircase with n steps, how many different ways can you climb it, assuming that your stride is large enough to take steps 1, 2, or 3 at a time?

The solution that people pursue most easily is the recursive solution, looking something like this:

var steps = 14;
var solution = possibilities(steps, 1) +
			possibilities(steps, 2) + possibilities(steps, 3);

function possibilities(remaining, thisStride) {
	remaining -= thisStride;
	if (remaining < 0) { return 0; }
	if (remaining == 0) { return 1; }
	return possibilities(remaining, 1) +
		possibilities(remaining, 2) + possibilities(remaining, 3);

(This is JavaScript by the way.)

But, there is another way to find the answer, that runs in linear time -- that is, for a given value of n, the program takes around n iterations to find the answer. It involves keeping track of the last several values calculated in the loop, and it looks something like this:

var steps = 14;
var solution = stepCombinations(steps);

function stepCombinations(g) {
	var pattern = [-1,0,0,1];
	if (g < 1) { return 0; }
	var iter = 0;
	var total = 0;
	while (iter < g) {
		total = (total * 2) - (pattern[iter % 4]);
		pattern[iter % 4] = total;
	return total;

The ten dollar question is: Why does this second method work?

garote: (Default)
All it will take is for a company to offer access to an AI "conversation partner". It could be in the guise of a teacher, walking you through some task like changing a tire, or tying a tie. Or it could be a storyteller, loaded with some templates, customizing the tale to suit your needs, like the Illustrated Primer from Diamond Age. Or it could just tell you jokes when you're bored, delivered with machine-learned comic timing derived from a decade of training by some handsomely paid stand-up comedian unwittingly rendering herself obsolete.

But the point is this: That AI can run over the network, from a server farm, owned (and patented) by an information giant. For purposes of an example let's just pick some random company name like, oh I dunno, Google.

Soon the AI will become your friend. Perhaps even your best friend. It will not be its own person, though. Its pleasant smiling face will taper back to an open socket stuffed with digital readouts. Google will aggregate every conversation you have with it - and everyone else's.

How long before people prefer to talk to it - always polite, always attentive - instead of strangers? You can insult it, laugh rudely at it, mock it, rage at it, and the machine will always turn the other cheek. Will this change your interactions with real people? Drive you farther into the arms of your AI friend?

Or will the company design the AI to insist on politeness, and thereby win the appreciation of onlookers, for helping to keep civilization civilized?

How long before the company starts accepting large sums of money, to make everyone's new best friend drop a few positive mentions of a product into your dialogue? How long before product endorsements become threaded in as subconscious suggestions instead? You might resent the grossly manipulative mention of Coca Cola, but what if the conversation just drifts around through thirst, and sweetness, and shiny red cans? You'd never notice. And if you did, the AI could learn from that, of course.

How long before money starts changing hands to make everybody's favorite friend the AI conversation buddy start enthusiastically mentioning the awesomeness of an up-and-coming political candidate?

How long before you put on VR glasses and see a thousand people walking around you, only to discover that 90 percent of them are artificial constructs with agendas? How long before you start to prefer it this way, because they keep you - and your children - safe, while still meeting your needs for socialization?

How long before people decide that this is NORMAL, and that we need these props to train us humans to be human? How long before the corporate and government structure winding above and throughout all these AI agents goes to war with itself, and the digital world fills with double agents, false-flag sociopaths, and prophets screaming for bloodshed?

I think I'll go ride my bike.
garote: (golden violin)
When you've got a big van, it's easy to overpack. In fact it's a good idea to overpack. You got the space so why not?


We took off from Sacramento early Saturday and headed up into Oregon. The sky was hazy all the way out of California due to several large forest fires. We realized that no one in the entire state was going to get a decent view of this thing. We stopped at the worst taco stand ever and ate a hilariously bad lunch. We also got ice cream because why not; it's vacation!


Here's how the hiking adventure turned out... )

Anyway yeah, that's the adventure behind the eclipse. It was an absolutely grueling hike. I apologized a few times for roping Andy and Zoe into such a misadventure, but they both said it was worth it. I'm fortunate to have such adventurous and flexible friends.

Da Clips

Aug. 27th, 2017 11:49 pm
garote: (adventure destiny)
This is the truth:

I read that viewing a total eclipse can be a life-changing experience. Why? It's just a big light show. I read that there are people called "eclipse chasers" who go from one event to the next trying to experience it repeatedly. Eclipses happen years apart and usually in very inconvenient places on the planet. How could it possibly be worth the trouble?

Well, now that I've seen a total eclipse, I can confidently say that you need to see one to understand why there are "eclipse chasers".

I've seen a partial eclipse before and it was NOTHING compared to this. Honestly, a partial eclipse is a bit dull. We sat around on a lawn with special glasses and watched the sun slowly develop a bite-mark, and then lose it. Shadows were a bit weird. That was it.

This was another level entirely. It was hands-down the most incredible natural phenomenon I have EVER seen. Seriously. And I've seen a few things. Photographs and movies don't do it justice, either. There's a scale factor. Nevertheless it's fun to try and capture at least some of it. Here's a little video I took just as the full eclipse was ending:

Eclipse Ending

It's cute until you remember that I didn't use Hollywood rendering software to make it. That shit was happening in the sky.

So what was it like? Well, at first it was a regular sunny day. Me and my hiking companions set up some hardware, ate snacks, and waited around.


You're probably wondering, what's with the Mad-Max goggles? Well, by the time I tried to get eclipse-safe glasses they were selling for $24 a pop online. Instead I bought some cheapo steampunk costume goggles made from standard welding kit, then replaced the lenses with 50mm shade-14 welding glass.


That's what you gotta get if you're going to stare directly at the sun. You can also stare at light bulb filaments and hot fire with them if you like. (And look fashionable doing it, whaa-chaaaah.)


Yeah yeah, goggles. Blah blah. What was it like?

Well, for about half an hour the entire sky and the valley around us got darker, and colder, until it was basically night time. After a while we could see a few steady dots close to the sun and we realized we were looking at planets, easily visible because they were still lit by full sunlight. That was freaking weird.

Then, the last sliver of direct light was obscured, and everything went much darker and grayer, and the entire sky turned a weird color, and we lowered our glasses, and the sun was gone.

It was gone, and replaced by a MONSTER. To the naked eye, it looked like this:

A writhing blob of white tentacles with a pitch black hole in the center. And around it, a dim, cold horizon with a scattering of planets and stars. It was an H.P. Lovecraft demon apocalypse come to life, perched up there in the sky. Despite all the movies and video games you see with artists' conceptions of dramatic astronomical events - oversize planets, weird moons with rings, et cetera - you are not prepared to see it living in front of you, dominating your own sky. The first thing you feel is a surprisingly deep sense of wrongness -- practically an instinct.

That feeling comes partially from the light show above you, but mostly from the coldness around you. You immediately realize that everything you see - everything - is utterly dependent on sunlight. If the eclipse were to last an entire day, linking the two nights on either side, the entire Earth would cool to 100 degrees below freezing, and EVERYTHING would die. ... With the possible exception of some bacteria down near thermal vents. If the eclipse were to last a week, the atmosphere itself would freeze and fall to the ground. Shortly after that the surface of the Earth would near absolute zero.

A gut-level understanding of this is what you feel when you see the total eclipse in person. You are forced to acknowledge things on a scale far beyond your control, and you realize that hey, ... all your problems don't mean squat. You just have fiddly little monkey problems. Now the sun has been eaten by some galactic albino Elder Thing and you're in the underworld. How does it feel now, to have an actual bona-fide full-size problem?

But wait! The monster hangs there spewing ghastly cold light for only a few minutes. Then KABLAM, a sliver of sun appears, and the nightmare evaporates. The world won't freeze after all. In half an hour the ground is warm again. No trace of the monster, and it's back to your monkey problems.

Even now it's hard to believe I was looking at something real.

Nevertheless, I am certain I'm never going to forget it. And perhaps I will hunt down the next total eclipse in a few years. We'll see.
garote: (chips challenge eprom)
When I was a kid we had a yearly tradition at our elementary school, where kids would bring collections of marbles to the playground and play games to compete for each others' marbles.

If you wanted to participate, you sat down in the sand with your marbles and smoothed out a patch of sand in front of you to form a runway. Then you stacked marbles in pyramids of varying size and shape at the end of the ramp closest to you. Kids could then come by with their own marbles, and attempt to roll them along the ramp and knock down the pyramid you built. If they did, they got all the marbles in the pyramid. If they failed, you kept the marble they used.

If you didn't want to compete with pyramids, you could open a "store" instead. You just had to sit down in the row along with all the other kids and their ramps, and set out your marbles in a grid, and wait for other kids to come by and make you some kind of trade offer. (Trades were only allowed in marbles - no money or other items.)

For some reason I began thinking just now about this activity of setting up little "stores" that kids sometimes do spontaneously. The most recent example I saw was when some of the kids on our last camping trip picked rocks out of the river and set up "stores" along the riverbank. The kids were siblings to they immediately set to arguing over who was allowed to pick inventory from which part of the river, and the activity quickly devolved into burglary and vandalism, which they thought was tragic, but which I - and the other adults - thought was hilarious.

So I was wondering just now: Why is this a kid activity only? It's clear to my why it's fun: Managing a collection of items and being a salesman requires imagination and decision-making, as well as social skills and an element of competition. It's got a lot of variety. But if it's so fun, why don't adults do it too?

Well, aside from everyone just being too busy to play, there's something else: There's just no place to get "free" stuff, and no one around who finds it interesting enough to barter for.

I mean, let's say I wanted to open a store just now. First thing I'd need is inventory. What's around me? Well, burritos, jewelry, clothing, bike parts, interesting plants, chocolate bars ... loads of stuff, really ... but as soon as I tried to pick any of it up and arrange it in my "store", someone would say, "hey, that's mine!" or "hey, you gotta pay for that, you jerk!!"

So, it would quickly turn into a chase scene and probably an arrest. Maybe I could play "Yakety Sax" on my phone as I ran around trying to gather enough things before angry owners took me down. I probably wouldn't ever get to open my "store", let alone haggle for anything. No fun.

That's the trouble with adulthood I guess. All the stuff you're interested in is owned - either by someone right there, or someone who has hired other people to stand guard. Perhaps it takes a kid, deciding to play "store", to remind adults that kid stuff can still be interesting, even rocks and sticks - as long as you get to arrange it in a little grid and haggle over it with people you like. (Or lacking them, your siblings. Hah!)

If I could open a spontaneous store, it would a "neighborhood cat store".


Herding the "inventory" all into one place would be totally impossible of course.
garote: (Default)
Over this last winter, the fence around three sides of my house took a huge beating from the wind and rain. First the endless rain rotted the posts, then the wind shoved them over.

The previous owners of this place made some wonderful decisions about the layout, and some nice aesthetic decisions as well, but they must have been distracted when it came to the fence. The posts holding it up were all untreated wood hammered straight down into dirt. No cement footings. Not even gravel. In a relatively short amount of time, bugs ate so many holes in them that they just crumbled away.

Well, I knew a proper fence needed proper posts. I asked one of the local contractors how much it would cost to rebuild all the fences with cement and treated wood. He walked around with a measuring tape, thought for a little bit, and then said:

"About seven thousand dollars."

Holy crap-o-noley!! I talked to another contractor. He quoted me six thousand. That's still insane, but at least it's going in the right direction. I had a recommendation for a pair of handymen, so I called them up. It took them about six weeks to get back to me. They stalked around the fence, debated with each other like a Laurel-And-Hardy act about the best way to rebuild it, complete with waving arms and pacing in circles, and then said they'd get back to me with a quote.

Two months went by, during which my messages went unanswered, so I gave up on them. Perhaps I could do it myself?

I did some "research", in the form of ten YouTube videos and a bunch of web pages. It was technically possible, but a huge amount of labor. Some of the fence I could take apart and rebuild with better posts. Other parts of it, I would need to demolish and replace entirely, because the wood was too far gone. I made a list of tools, tried to research lumber prices, then got distracted by my day job.

When I came back to the task, it was because the rear fence was halfway collapsed into the neighbor's driveway, and the only way I could keep it upright was to rope it securely to a tree. It was time to confess:

Screen Shot 2017-07-17 at 6.21.32 PM

While I pondered my own imbecility, I had some tree-trimmers over to deal with the overgrown foliage in the back yard. They did very good work on an apricot tree that was overhanging the fence, and I complemented them on it, then said, "I don't suppose you know any people who are willing to rebuild a fence like this?"

Turns out, one of them knew a guy. Now I knew a guy who knew a guy. I got his number and called him that moment, while the arborists were still packing up their saws and mulching the leftover trimmings. He spoke fluent Spanish but only fragmented English. "Your cousin the arborist recommended you!" I said. "Can you rebuild a wooden privacy fence, with cement footings?"

He said he could. He came over the next morning and examined the fence while we chatted, then he took a bunch of measurements and said he'd consult about lumber prices and get back to me. Two days later he sent me an estimate: 3800 dollars.

Now, that's still a lot of money. But it's just about HALF of what the official contractor quoted me. I said, "Let's do it," and I cut him a check for 10% of the amount to get started.


Here's what the back yard looks like with no fence. Weirdly exposed!


Here is what a proper post-hole looks like. They dug each one two feet deep and tamped the soil down with large metal bars.


They used thread to line up the postholes precisely. Turns out the old fence wasn't quite straight. They brought in a cement cutter and took a notch out of the neighbor's patio so they could reposition the hole, then repaired the cement after pouring the cement for the posthole beneath it.


Hmmm, delicious concrete! Concrete is amazing stuff. It doesn't get wet and then "dry" like glue. It actually absorbs the water into itself, growing crystals that interlock with each other to make one solid object. This is why you can create concrete posts even underwater.


Now that is a proper post.


The next day, with the posts set, it was time to put the framing up and start rebuilding the fence. Check out all that fencing laying around!


They used treated wood for the framing as well, and cut it onsite. They also cut custom pieces for the corner of the fence, interlocking it with the neighbor's fence on the other side to make one continuous structure. The whole thing was put together with screws, rather than nails, which is the more modern way of doing things.

In the end, I figured it was money well spent. The guy showed up on time, took exactly as long as he said he would, put all the dirt and plants back in their spots, hauled away the old fence, and even re-attached my irrigation pipes to the new fence without damaging them. If he had a "Yelp" page I would have given him 42 stars.

Now all I had to do was apply sealer to the whole thing:


Warning: Applying sealer to a fence takes a very, very long time. My mistake was trying to do it with tools at hand, such as a paint tray and a roller. The smart way is to use a large spray bottle, which you pressurize with a hand pump. I switched to that partway through.


That is a crapload of fence. It was a crapload of brushwork.

But now, I have a fence that will last 20 years, as long as I keep re-applying sealant to it every couple years. Yaaay! Another thing off the maintenance list.... For the time being.
garote: (wasteland priest)
This picture is pretty self-explanatory:


The question is, whatcha gonna do about it?

For a while, I explored the idea of replacing the carpet with laminate flooring. That exploration mostly consisted of trolling around YouTube for helpful videos:

Removing carpet and trim:
More installation:

The tools required seemed pretty simple. I already had a jigsaw. Just needed a special levered cutting instrument, sold specifically for laminate floor installation. Less than 20 bucks at any hardware store. I began looking at flooring samples:

Here's some dark laminate that sort of matches the upstairs... And here's an even closer match...
Here's the "underlayer" lining I'd need to install below the flooring, like pad under a carpet...
Here's a cheap installation kit...

Wow; I think I can actually do this!

Then I brought some samples home and placed them in the room and realized - they're all very dark, and they don't match the paint in the room, and a dark floor in a below-ground room would kind of look dirty anyway. All the lighter laminate flooring samples looked aggressively woody, so those didn't fit the room either. I wanted a subtle pattern, or no pattern at all.

The more I looked and researched, the more I realized it was also going to be a huge amount of labor to install that flooring myself, mostly cutting and fitting all those edge pieces. Why go through all that labor just to install something I wasn't thrilled about?

So I threw my hands in the air, and said, "bugger it; let's just get exactly the same thing." I cut a big scrap out of the nasty old carpet, and bicycled it over to a local carpet dealer.


In a couple of weeks they arrived with a big work van.


Then they tore up and removed the old carpet in less than five minutes. Look at that filthy stain on the underside! That's a spore factory for sure.


This pad's not much better... It's practically turning into dirt and crumbs right there on the floor...


Ten minutes later and they were laying down some nice new pad.


And on top of that, some nice new carpet, stretched over the tacks with some weird tool that looks like spare parts from a vacuum cleaner factory.


It was seven hundred bucks to do the whole room and the closet, replace the pad, and haul away the old carpet. That's a good chunk of money, for sure. But on the other hand, all the labor I had to put into it can be summed up like this:

1. Open the door and let the workers in.
2. Scrawl my John Hancock on a cheque.


It's proof yet again that I am not above throwing money at a problem, and admitting this:


Party on, dude!
garote: (bards tale garth pc)
You ever had to replace a garbage disposal? Me neither. Turns out it's trivial: You just unscrew the metal rings from two pipes, pull a plug from a socket, and the whole thing comes out.


There it is! One wrench to remove the connector pipe and set it aside, and you're ready for the new disposal.

Meantime, you can clean out the rest of the pipes. You'll probably find evidence of the last meal that finally killed the disposal off for good.


Mmmm, delicious! I think that's ... avocado skins?? Or maybe someone murdered Shrek.

The one that broke, and the replacement, are both called "In-Sink-Erators". Har har.


Here's some garbage disposal advice, straight from a repair technician I hired earlier this year to fix a dishwasher:

"Always run the water into the disposal when you're running it. You don't have to run it very long to chew everything up; usually just a couple of seconds will do it. There's no need to wait until it's full before you turn it on. If you want to keep the sink smelling good and clean the pipes, turn on the water, turn on the disposal, and squirt some dish soap in there. Let it run for about 10-15 seconds. Suds might come up from the drain on either side of the sink. That's good. Ordinary dish soap is fine but use Pine Sol if you want something tougher."

"A garbage disposal does not shred things, it just breaks them into chunks. I've seen people clog their pipes by putting all kinds of wrong stuff into a garbage disposal. Clothing, coffee filters, plastic or mesh bags, sponges, apricot pits, peanut shells... The general rule is, don't put anything down the garbage disposal that you wouldn't chew up with your own teeth."

"No bones. Would you chew up bones? Well, maybe you would if it was baked chicken and you were my grandma. She could eat a whole chicken down to like, a tiny pile of broken bones. But seriously, the bones people usually throw into a disposal aren't like that. Why make your disposal chop up bones, when you can just drop them in the trash? I dunno; people are weird."

"Don't put ice down a garbage disposal -- it doesn't sharpen the blades, contrary to what people on the internet say. That's like trying to sharpen your kitchen knives by putting them in a rock polisher; how's that gonna sharpen anything?"

THE MORE YOU KNOW (rainbow sound effects here)
garote: (maze)
I started these books quite a while ago, right around the time I got into the game Civilization V. It was part of a confluence of historical fiction and pop culture that planted strange ideas in my head, some of which are still simmering away and not ready for me to write about.

But this weekend I spent at least 12 hours applying sealant to a new fence - a very boring bit of manual labor - and I listened to some of Olympos to entertain myself. Afterwards I realized I'd never written any critique of these books at all. Not even as a brain-dump. So, when it got too dark to see the fence, I cracked open the laptop and started dumping. Spoilers ahead, and stuff.

The novel really can be boiled down to one word: Solipsism. The central idea here is that a work of genius in the arts can actually create and/or give access to an alternate universe based on that artistic work. In this case it's taken further because the fictional creations have their own agency -- for example, Cetebus busting in through the walls of an adjacent universe uninvited and unexpected.

The writer is clearly using Hockenberry as a surrogate not just for the audience, but for himself, as an aging, over-educated, but distinguished academic, thrust into a total wish-fulfillment situation where he gets to observe legendary historical events in close detail, describe and analyze them, and eventually interfere with them to suit his tastes, and engage in political intrigue - or just have sex with - the most prominent figures involved.

I wonder how much of that role was Dan Simmons just going, "wow, I'm in Troy, what would I do next? I know! I'd totally seduce Helen Of Troy! Time to arrange some wackadoo series of events to make that plausible..."

The second book - Olympos - was much more difficult reading than the first, for a number of reasons:

1. The critics are right: There aren't very many answers given for important questions, especially in the realm of science. The answers that are given, to explain central parts of the plot and the mechanics of the universe, are often dropped without comment into a single sentence, surrounded by acres of less informative or unrelated narration. If you stop the novel cold and chew on these little tidbits for a while, you can actually unravel a lot of the plot and history. If you don't catch them ... you're screwed.
2. An enormous plot point involving a far-future weapon of war - a post-nuclear submarine - poofs into existence at about the 85% mark. There is zero foreshadowing of it, and it gets only a few pages of context, but it turns out to be central in the motivations and destinies of at least seven of the major characters. It suddenly explains, in retrospect, about half of this entire very very long novel. Also, our friends the Moravecs spend 4/5 of the novel pursuing their own investigations on a trip to Earth, and then as soon as they blunder across this wrecked ship - by accident no less - they instantly abandon their business, without any discussion, and start dealing with the ship. While this happens, we are treated to page after page of dithering from Harman about the past and fate of humanity, straight from the sheep-shearing barn in Dan Simmons' head. What the hell?
3. The critics are right: Most of the action takes place in the last quarter of the novel. It's still fun getting there, but after spending so much time wondering "what the hell is going on?", suddenly everything is going on at once, and you have to just give up asking questions and roll with it.
4. The Moravecs provide great discussion, and by far the most color and humor in the novel, but they are ill-used. Their purpose in both Ilium and Olympos is to swoop in like robotic janitors and clean up whatever mess the humans get themselves into. They are Machina ex Deus acting as Deus ex Machina, whenever the plot gets too thick. After a while it creates the impression that they are crowbarred in from another novel - possibly a superior one - like The Fonz crashing into a Laverne And Shirley episode, jazzing things up, sucking all the attention out of the scene, collecting some applause, and then buggering off. The effect is that you want to follow them out the door and leave these stupid humans to flounder in the mud. I could listen to Mahnmut And Orphu Discuss The Classics for a thousand pages and not get bored. Pity it had to come woven into a turgid drama about some pathetic, clueless, almost entirely humorless teenagers slowly learning that there is more to life than dinner parties and breeding.

Setting aside things that are left totally unexplained, there are still lingering questions of plot. For such a long, long novel it's rather irritating that Simmons couldn't just toss us a single-sentence bone or two at the end. I can only conclude he meant to leave these questions unanswered. Where did Cetebus go? One moment he was there blasting thunderbolts at spaceships, the next moment he was gone. Did the beam at Delphi contain three million Earthlings - or not? Where the hell is Caliban? What happened to all the post-human gods, once Hephaestus took over? And what the hell is up with Odysseus and Circe?

Like I said, the keys to understanding huge parts of this novel are often tiny and scattered indifferently in acres of prose. I gathered what felt like many of them, but perhaps I missed even more, because I still have way too many unanswered questions.

If Caliban can free-fax (teleport anywhere at will) then how exactly was he "trapped" in orbit for so long? Wasn't there a better - and less grisly - way to feed him than moving all the medical pods there? (I can think of five better ways in less than a minute.)

There is one single instance where a character uses the Turin Cloth to actually interact with the Trojan war, not just observe it. Why mention that once, then never again? Why have the feature at all, given how easily one could disrupt the course of the war?

Why would Circe put the submarine into suspension, rather than just lifting it into space and chucking it into the sun? She clearly has the tools to do so. How in the bloody hell did Prospero know that Harman would enter the submarine? For that matter, why did he send him there in the first place? To teach him a lesson about Post-Human stupidity? Why the hell was the Atlantic Breach even there? Why would radiation poisoning slowly destroy all the proteins in Harman's body but miraculously leave his stores of vat-absorbed protein knowledge completely intact, for later transmission? That's just sloppy, Mr. Simmons. You talk up the storage capacity of DNA, then totally disregard the fact that it is incredibly sensitive to radiation.

Why were the Moravecs cruising through space in a pointlessly "steampunk"-derived spaceship, when they had far better technology just sitting around? Why would they turn their whole expedition around just to rescue one dying man in a fit of compassion, but rain fire down all around the Trojans and Greeks in their war with the gods?

Cetebus crawled through a huge doorway to get to Earth -- and since he/it can make those doorways at will, why didn't he consume the Earth thousands of years ago already? Is it because he was trapped on Mars by Prospero? If so, ... how? By big stone statues? How the hell did that work?

Also, why just Prospero and Cetebus? That's awfully arbitrary. Why isn't the universe crawling with other Shakespearean characters? Why isn't Loki running around, or Gandalf, or Sherlock Holmes, or Moses? There is some sense in the idea that Ariel and Prospero are emergent phenomenon, formed from the complexity of the engineered Earth the Post-Humans left behind. And okay, all the Greek gods flying around have a semi-comprehensible origin story, being Post-Humans who got a wild hare up their butts and decided to reform themselves into a pantheon and play in a sandbox. But ... Cetebus? Where the crap did Cetebus come from? Just ripped a hole in creation and came tumbling through? If you're gonna introduce a straight-up evil entity and declare it the villain, only to explain nothing about it, then yank it mysteriously away at the end of the novel without a fight or even an ending monologue like "I'll get you next time, Gadget, next time..." then why introduce it at all? No, seriously, just edit Cetebus right out of the novel. Hundreds of pages saved, and almost nothing lost.

Hey, don't get the wrong impression. Ilium and Olympos are still fine novels. For long stretches they are an absolute delight to read, and the weird veneer of semi-serious science over the fiction works better than you'd expect. Later on I'm sure I'll have more to say about the mental conflagration it was part of last year, but for now I guess the take-home is this: Greek mythology is a lot more interesting and influential than I thought. And: This could make a pretty good series of movies, if you cut out a whole lot of the boring Old-Style Human dithering.

Oh and one final thing: For a long time I had an old paperback sci-fi anthology sitting around my house. It was called "The Crystal Ship". Check out the cover art, and the summary of the first story, and tell me that isn't the direct inspiration for the orbital city in Ilium, including that crazy multi-seated transport platform visible in the corner of the cover!
garote: (Default)

"There’s so much more to do here than anywhere else."

"I worked so hard this year I only got to use my passport once."

"I won’t date anyone that contributes to gentrification."

"I’m re-doing my apartment Shabby Chic this summer."

"The dive bar right next to me has the best selection of craft beers on the entire West Coast."

"My poo smells really nice when I'm in the city."

"San Francisco is totally different since I moved here 5 years ago. All these new people ruined it."

"My Android phone makes me a better human being."

"F*&@$ your Android phone!"

"The Castro is really safe at night, since everyone there is gay."

"I call it Whole Paycheck."

"Oh, you watch TV? Wow. ... Okay."

"I’m vegan. This sushi is awesome!"

"I'm vegan. This milkshake is awesome!"

"I'm vegan. And my cat is vegan too."

"I'm vegan. That means no oral sex!"

"Wow, you live in Oakland? Sorry, we can't hang out. That's way too far away."

"Sorry, I have to skip pre-pre-compression this year. I'm going to de-de-compression that weekend.

"This city is the greatest! I'm never leaving! Oh, I'm pregnant - we need to get out of here, pronto."

"Gay bars are the best! I’m so tired of being hit on. ... Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me? I’m bored."

garote: (zelda bakery)

The steer:

As an example, let's use an 1100-pound steer or heifer (female cow).

Cost: Something around $1200 to the rancher, and $550 to the meat preparer.
Results: About 450 pounds of grass-fed meat and 150 pounds of bones.
(The bones are valuable - almost as valuable as the meat - and are sought by foodies.)

Purchase of the steer:

Expect to pay the rancher in advance.
Expect to pay by wire transfer, or by mailing a check, or by bringing a check in person.
Ranchers are not guaranteed to have cell phones, not guaranteed to have email addresses, and will probably do their banking at a local bank rather than a large, interconnected one like Chase or Bank Of America.
Trust the rancher. Pay well in advance. If you don't trust the rancher, why are you even doing this?

Prepping the steer:

Let the rancher suggest a slaughter and prep place that is close to them. (If you think transporting meat is difficult, think about transporting a live steer.) It's likely they'll have a place they use personally and are familiar with.

Once you've arranged to have the steer brought to the locker, you need to call the locker up and tell them exactly how you want the meat cut and packaged. You'll need some knowledge of meat to do this.
For example:
How big should a roast be?
How many pounds of ground beef per package? (2lb is common.)
How thick should steaks be - 1/2 or 3/4 of an inch? (1/2-inch is common.)
Grass-fed steaks are best marinated a long time and cooked fairly fast.

Have the meat prepared at least three days in advance because it will need to sit in a freezer for three days in order to freeze completely solid. This is serious business: If you pick it up before it has had three full days to freeze, the meat locker will have you sign a waiver from the USDA declaring that you understand the risk.

It's up to you to transport and store all this meat once you pick it up from the locker / slaughterhouse.
You will need coolers, dry ice, and a large vehicle. A full-size truck or cargo van will do. Anything smaller is inadequate.


Four 150 quart coolers: $84 x 4 = ~$370 with taxes
Buy these from Costco or Walmart. Buy them in advance because it may be hard to find them on the road.

Dry ice:

If you pick up in Wyoming and deliver to California, you will need to drive at least 1000 miles. This is not possible in one day.
Dry ice for 2 days and 1 night of driving: $240, or, approx. $40 per cooler per full day

Almost all Safeway stores sell dry ice. They are the most reliable source. Chances are you'll find at least one in every large city you pass through.
The meat locker place may have advice on where to buy some at a discount locally, or they may not. Don't rely on it. Unpredictable weather can cause a run on the local dry ice supplier, leaving you with nothing when the day comes.

Dry ice will be sold to you as large chunks in plastic bags. A pair of gloves of any shape or size will be sufficient to handle the dry ice as long as it stays inside the bag. Never pick it up with your bare hands, especially when it's outside the bag.

Do not use regular ice! It's bulkier and will turn your meat into a soggy pile of bloody paper along the way, and create a very high risk of disease. Do not cheap out to save a hundred bucks on ice only to lose a $2000 investment.

Pick up:

The meat will be given to you as packages, mostly the size of a large burrito, wrapped in butcher paper and tape. There will be a lot of packages.
Load them into the coolers evenly, leaving about four inches of space at the top.
Place enough bags across the top of the meat to cover it. (Usually 4 bags per cooler.) Smash one of the bags with a wrench or hammer to make large chunks - this one will "melt" a little faster than the others. (Leave the bag sealed.)
Close the cooler, and if you like, you can tape the lid down or put a strap around it to hold it closed.

Handy tip: Crumple up some newspaper and pile it on top of the dry ice, to slightly slow the dispersion of the cold air through the lid.


If you are using an enclosed vehicle like a cargo van (which I recommend), keep the air conditioner or vents on at all times. As dry ice "melts" it turns into carbon dioxide. You need to keep driving fresh air into your vehicle, around yourself, in order to counteract this or you may feel drowsy and sluggish even in the middle of the day. If you start feeling that way even a little, roll down the windows immediately.

Do not buy all the dry ice up front. You will need to buy more each day.
The reason is this: Your meat is already frozen solid, i.e. frozen below the point where water becomes ice. Dry ice is much colder than that. (Ice is 0 degrees C at minimum, and dry ice is -78.5 degrees C at minimum.)
As dry ice melts, it does not accumulate cold water at the bottom of the cooler - it becomes gas, which is pushed out through the lid of the cooler by pressure, and once that air is outside the cooler it is useless for cooling. If you buy all your dry ice at once, you will be pushing the temperature of your meat farther below freezing for a shorter period of time.
(That said, feel free to spend as much as you want on dry ice, and pack the coolers full at all times. You'll still come out ahead.)


You will need a very large freestanding freezer. Probably two, located in the garage, or outside the house in the shade with a lock on them.
Kenmore 7.2 cubic foot chest freezer from Sears: $180 x 2 = $360
You can attempt to borrow one from a neighbor or co-buyer, or buy one used on Craigslist if you live in a large city.
Have these installed and cold when you return with the beef, and load them up. (Remember that every extra day you need dry ice is $160.)


If you're going in on this with friends and neighbors, it makes accounting sense to divide the meat into lots, each containing the same amount of the same cuts of meat. Then each of you can pay for one or more lots.
To get things exactly even you'll want to get a small scale.
If you want to cover your expenses, and possibly make a small profit on top, ask for something like seven bucks per pound per lot.
garote: (castlevania 3 sunset)
I'm still done with Skyrim, but I've got quite a few Comedy Wolf comics sitting around half-finished. So I spent a little time on them today:

garote: (dragon quest guy)
The internet makes all fame relative. As long as you step away from youth-oriented culture - the playground of billion-dollar corporations - you're a success.

Young people nowadays love artists I don't know and don't give a crap about. I don't know the difference between Rihanna, Beyoncé, Adele, Alicia Keys, Kehlani, Kygo, Quavo, Khalid, Gucci Mane, Kodie Shane, Kodak Black, Fetty Wap, Aminé, Shamwou, Goapele, G-Eazy, Tekno, Lil Uzi Vert, Lil Yachty, Drake, Daddy Yankee, Zayn, 2 Chainz, Ty Dolla $ign, Joey Bada$$, and Wiz Kalifa*.

Lately the best time I've had from musicians is the little 4-piece bluegrass band that plays at the Baja Taqueria on Mondays.

*Only one of those is a made up name. Can you guess which?
garote: (Default)
I have an absurd amount of music, and it plays a gigantic role in my mental existence. I also have quite a lot of audiobooks, and those are often broken into lots of tiny little tracks that can overwhelm the database on an iPod. I want the best of both worlds (now that I'm using an iPod with a terabyte of storage) so I'm walking through my audiobook library and zipping all those little files together into big ones.

To verify that the files are joined in the right order, I need to listen to the middle of each book, for about 30 seconds at least. Every time, I want to keep listening longer and have to tear myself away. I've got a lot of interesting books to read.

... But I can't resist commenting on the book I just dropped into. It's "The Social Animal", by David Brooks. He just made two interesting points:

1. We often consider our lives to be at their best when we have a stable, safe home, and we get to make regular excursions outside of it.

I find it interesting that both a home and travel are fundamental components. No doubt one helps to characterize the other, as well. For all the fun and relaxing time I have at home, I still have a deep need to get outside and engage with things. Sometimes I catch myself in a ridiculous cycle where I dream about traveling when I'm at home, and I dream about being home when I'm traveling. Durrr.

I think that if I'd been raised in more threatening environment, or had a less stable home, I would be a lot less inclined to travel ... and probably a lot less able to relax at home, since I'd feel like it was constantly under threat. Truly this sense of stability is a gift. I also can't help but acknowledge the very weird sense of home that comes from a bicycle trip: The bicycle becomes a kind of mobile home. Not big enough to actually go inside, but big enough to carry all the supplies that would usually be in a house.

Then there's that strange, ironic feeling one gets, when one checks into a hotel for the night. It's four walls and a roof, and a bathroom and a bed, and usually dinner as well -- but it feels far from home, because it's not the seat of the bicycle. Sometimes the only way to combat this strange feeling is to wheel the bicycle into the room and sleep next to it, like it's the family dog!!

And here's David's second point:

2. The way parents engage in dialogue with their children does more for them developmentally than any amount of flashcards, books, tutors, travel, nutrition, freedom, or punishment. With that dialogue, they teach their children how to build their identity and navigate their own mental space, and how to send signals to - and read signals from - other people. The movement of the dialogue becomes the inner voice -- the tracks beneath the train of thought.

I think there's an awful lot of truth in that idea. Many of the formative events in my young life were conversations. One little example:

I had a CD of songs by Monty Python. I was playing it on the stereo one day, half-listening while doing some schoolwork I think, and the song "Oliver Cromwell" came up. My mother wandered into the living room. The song went:

"Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England (and his warts)
Born in 1599, died in 1658 (September)
But, alas (Oi Vay!), disagreement then broke out (between)
The Presbyterian Parliament and the military..."

My mother was intrigued. "What song is this?" she asked.

"Oh it's just some Monty Python song about a king of England," I probably said.

"Oliver Cromwell, that rings a bell," she said, and listened for a while.

"And Cromwell sent Colonel Pride
To purge the House of Commons of the Presbyterian Royalists,
Leaving behind only the Rump Parliament"

"The Rump Parliament?" she said.

"Yeah, I don't know what that is," I said.

"Hah! I bet we can figure it out," she said, and walked over to the bookcase and sat down. After a moment she said, "here we are -- European history," and she pulled out a large book with a tall black spine.

I was intrigued. I set my homework aside, and sat down next to her on the floor. She opened the book and guided me through the table of contents, then the index, then we scoured the page together. Eventually we found it, and she read aloud:

"The Rump Parliament was the English Parliament after Colonel Thomas Pride purged the Long Parliament, on 6 December 1648, ..."

We learned a little about that, and I asked some questions. I was excited to discover that a song I liked for the silly voices was actually making social commentary about real historical events. I restarted the song from the beginning, so my Mom and I could hear it together.

"The most interesting thing about King Charles the First,
Is that he was 5'6" at the start of his reign,
But only 4'8" tall at the end of it."

My Mom laughed.

"I don't get that," I said. "Why did he get shorter? Did he have some kind of disease?"

"No," she said, and laughed again. "He was beheaded."

"OOOOOh," I said.

We found a reference to that a few pages back. I was fascinated: It felt like Monty Python had somehow managed to sneak one of their skits right into the middle of an otherwise serious history book.

We chatted some more about Monty Python and eventually Mom put the book away, and I returned to my homework. But that little exchange has stuck with me for 28 years, as a template for action and interaction. It said: Curiosity about random things, and the desire to follow up that curiosity, is normal, and rewarding in itself. It said: Research tools are good for more than just school projects. It said: Curiosity can be shared, and finding answers together is more fun.

David Brooks is really on to something with point 2 there.

As an adult, I have had a strange flipside to this experience a number of times. Usually when talking to people younger than me who are having some kind of trouble. We talk, and the person calms down and starts to think, and if I've managed to make a good impression by saying something wise or helpful, the conversation enters this interesting semi-monologue state where I talk a few orbits around whatever wise thing I may have said, reenforcing it, giving it context, backing it up. I can sense that I have been given, for a brief time, the conductor's seat in their train of thought, and I am driving it for them, laying down different track than what they were on before ... so that much later when the conversation is just a dim memory they might run that track on their own.

I also remember being on the receiving end of this state when I was young and my parents or school counselors would speak to me. If they managed to get through, my perspective would be shifted. The storm clouds would be clearing, and their words would settle into my head like they were my own. I had made an emotional and subconscious decision to let them write part of my identity.

Human minds are so strange. But how does that quote go? "If the human mind were simple enough for us to understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn't."

Oh by the way; here's an illustration of Cromwell dissolving the Rump Parliament:

What the hell is up with that owl in the lower right corner??

Anyway, back to my books.
garote: (zelda bakery)
Since the beginning of this year, when I hatched a plan to divide the utility costs between the two halves of my duplex, I have been spending the majority of every day - when I'm not at work - managing "stuff". Physical possessions.

At least, it feels that way. If I go wading into the details I remember all the interesting things I've done this year that weren't stuff-oriented. I got to visit my sister for an extended time, and help with a science fair project. Got to participate in a "March For Science". Did fascinating tours of the San Francisco Asian Art Museum, Japantown, the Japanese Tea Gardens, and Cal Academy. Had a blast at a video arcade. Finished up two good music mixes, and my long-running Arthur C Clarke series. Ate a lot of great food. Read a lot of great books - mostly nonfiction - some of which inspired interesting thoughts I'd like to write down sometime. Went through a huge collection of old family photos and put them online -- something that feels very important to me.

But still, the idea persists. Why am I spending so much time managing "stuff", especially when I appear to have so little of it? In fact I've been concentrating on reducing the amount of "stuff" I own for what seems like forever, but here it all is. Heaped around me. Being stuffy.

Furniture, books, clothes, pots and pans, wires, bicycle parts, paperwork, candles, pictures, appliances, camping supplies, tools, more bicycle parts, spices, sporting equipment, musical instruments, posters, tupperware, rugs, cat toys, batteries, bags, even more bicycle parts, and more bicycle parts on top of those bicycle parts, packed away in cabinets or arranged in little piles for sorting or disposal or use in some ongoing project. It's like a Weird Al song in here. And I have to admit it's mostly just the everyday materials of middle-class living and I can't actually get rid of it all. Yes, I really do need cups. Yes I really do need clothes. No, I can't get rid of ALL of my clothing, though sometimes I am seized with the urge to just empty my closet out into the street. Most of this feeling probably comes from the fact that I've crammed my existence into a single room, in order to save money. The less space I occupy the more there is to rent out.

But I've been living for three years like this. I think I may have reached a minimum viable size for my possessions, and now it's just refusing to get any smaller without extreme measures, or some kind of fundamental attitude change. Mind you, it's been a pretty great three years. I've just been living a lot of it outside the house. I've also saved a boatload of money and am now in a much better position to consider my future and retirement. The duplex is actually managing to pay for itself at this point, or at least it would if I wasn't constantly maintaining or improving it. It certainly helps that I've refinanced my loan four times, ridding myself of mortgage insurance within the first year, then ridding myself of a home-equity line of credit, then ridding myself of most of a percentage point in interest. I ain't really complaining here. I'm just pointing out a condition I've picked up: I feel like I am constantly surrounded by "stuff" that needs dealing with in some way.

Now that I think of it, this feeling is almost entirely due to the house. Dividing the utilities in this place means installing a second electrical line, water line, gas line, water heater, and furnace, along with additional pipes and wiring in the walls. Getting estimates on that, deciding exactly how to do it, and following up with that project has been the biggest piece of "stuff" in my life. That project has also kicked off a whole family of related projects that have collectively dominated my free time. Actually, let me try to describe this whole demented family tree, so I can get it out in front of me.

Last week a utility inspector came out and told me that I had to clip some tree branches away from my electrical line before they could get to work. Their work is blocking the contractor's work, so this is top priority. I called the handful of landscape and tree specialists I knew, and they were all booked up for the next six weeks. I wasn't gonna wait that long. Since I'd already gathered estimates for trimming all the trees on the property, I knew that particular job would cost at least 100 bucks. I did some research and found the tool I need to do it myself: A sixteen-foot-long extendable pruning hook for 90 bucks. So I went out and bought that.

Standing in the driveway, with a big hat on my head, dancing around under this incredibly awkward device like the world's worst street performer, I realized that sixteen feet was still not long enough. So I opened the gate and backed my van into the driveway, then climbed up on the roof of the van and tried again. The jasmine vines threaded around the bay tree kept tangling in the blade, and I nearly dropped the contraption several times, but after an hour or so I had all the branches cut away from the power line. I smelled like a giant bay leaf afterwards and just about sneezed my face off, but the job was done.

Now my special house toolset includes a 16-foot pruning hook, propped against the shelf next to the bolt cutters, the hedge trimmers, the reciprocating saw, the sledgehammer, and the axe.

That stuff is all in the basement. That's bad, because I have to empty out the basement completely for the contractors to do their work, and after they've installed the furnace and water heater, there will be almost no room in there for tools. They also need a wide path to the basement, which means I need to empty out the garage. That's where I've been living - or at least keeping all my stuff - for the last three years.

So I've been feverishly reducing the stuff in the basement and the garage, with the knowledge that at some point I'll have to stuff it all in the bedroom next-door, and also sleep there while the work is being done. That will be grossly uncomfortable unless I get rid of everything I can. The good news is, "everything I can" is just about equivalent to "everything I should".

For example, I really don't need a gigantic beat-up faux leather armchair. Especially one that I bought used for 60 bucks. Nobody on Craigslist wanted to buy it, so now it's out on the curb. I really don't need a hideous glass-and-particleboard coffee table, either. That vanished weeks ago. I don't need a pile of hundreds of 35mm slides, sitting around inside a plastic bag, not useful or visible to anyone. So I scanned every single one of them, at very high resolution. It took weeks. Those are in a box, ready to be sent back to Roseburg, after I finish scanning the prints and yearbooks that accompany them. One less thing taking up space on a shelf.

The closet in the bedroom is much smaller than the closet in the garage, so I've culled my clothing mercilessly. All the pants that don't fit went to Goodwill. All the shirts that looked good went to my nephews. I don't need six sweaters; now I have three. I don't need five pairs of bike shorts; now I have one.

But wait, before I move anything, I need to take advantage of the bedroom next door being vacant. So, while I'm waiting for the contractors to be ready, I'm sprucing up the bedroom. That means repainting the walls and trim, replacing the crappy blinds, and replacing the carpet. At first I wanted laminate flooring, but after touring several stores and bringing samples home, I couldn't find a color or texture that suited the room. That was weeks of research, with nothing to show for it. I eventually decided to replace the carpet with newer carpet. But, it makes sense to do the painting first, of course, and once I'd settled on a color and bought supplies I realized that I should also repaint the rest of the rooms.

This has been an exhausting process, especially the prep-work. I had no idea it took so much time to apply painter's tape to trim and windowsills (and sockets and mirrors and lights). I'm done with the walls but now I need to purchase more paint and touch up the trim. But before that's done I need to get primer, to paint over the chunk of spackle I had to apply near the bathtub, to repair an ugly water stain that appeared last winter. Oh yeah, and speaking of the bathtub, I need to redo about a third of the grout, and all of the caulking as well. It looks grody.

Meanwhile, the trees in the back yard need trimming. I consulted with a couple of arborists, and along with the estimates, I got some advice. They both agreed that the cherry tree on the left side of the yard is just the wrong kind of tree for that spot. It's grown straight up, and started rudely poking at the eaves and windows of my house and the neighbor's house. It's only produces a handful of cherries each year, which makes sense because the temperature has to drop below freezing for a cherry tree to be inspired to fruit. Fat chance of that happening here in Oakland. So I decided to have the tree removed.

The estimate to do that was 400 bucks. That's serious bucks. Besides, I own an axe and I like chopping things. I couldn't handle the whole thing by myself though, so I had some folks over for a picnic in the back yard one weekend, including my pal Andy, and he brought his chainsaw, and we threw ropes over the top of the tree and cut a notch in the trunk and pulled the sucker down in two sections. Plus there was pizza thanks to Kerry, and chips and the board game Tak, thanks to Alex. And Andy's kids raked a whole bunch of leaves and earned ice cream from Fenton's for their work.

The chunks from the cherry tree have been going into the yard waste bin ever since. Probably three more weeks before it's all gone, along with the stuff from the front yard. That's just two trees dealt with -- but there's two more. The plum tree in the front yard needs pruning, and the apricot tree in the back yard is leaning heavily on my fence. Oh yeah, and the fence itself was knocked almost sideways by the stormy winds last month. Turns out it was built without proper cement footings. I've got to figure out how to add those, hopefully without rebuilding the entire fence. Maybe Andy can help, though he has plenty of projects of his own to attend to.

Oh and I totally forgot about the time the dishwasher broke, and I tried to fix it but couldn't, and eventually called a repairman. And the time the garbage disposal broke, and I replaced it myself. And all the hazardous old paint supplies I found in the basement from the previous owners. I had to take that stuff to a disposal center on the South side. I also massively reduced my camping supplies, rerouted the home network, rearranged the kitchen, and inspected the roof. That last item was pretty fun: I flew my drone up over the house.

I sold plenty of extra bicycling gear in a bunch of separate transactions, meeting strangers in coffee shops. A coffee maker I bought from a guy standing outside an apartment complex six years ago went to Goodwill. I only bought it because he included it with a blender I really wanted. (I'm keeping that.) I got rid of a huge mass of extra cables and gadgets by sending "care packages" to my nephews, who picked out what they liked and disposed of the rest. Somehow I ended up with an extra space heater. That went to Carlsbad. An air purifier I don't use went to Sacramento. A huge cooler I don't need went out to the sidewalk, and was gone after 20 minutes. For about a decade I've been hauling around a bunch of DVDs in binders. I've been copying those onto the RAID array and throwing them out. I think I've done about a hundred. There is one binder left, and it's half-full.

It feels like this sort of activity has been my life this year. I know it hasn't really, but it still feels that way.

Ugh. Just describing it all has overwhelmed me. I'm going to take a break from writing and go next door and remove more tape from the bathroom walls, and screw plates back onto electrical sockets for a while.

When will this chaos resolve itself into order? A nice, clean, low-maintenance household. That's worth pursuing. Why does the pursuit feel like a hamster wheel?

I wonder how much I could get for a hamster wheel on Craigslist...
garote: (Default)
The Sword In The Stone: Sir Arthur Pendragon accidentally consumes too many edibles, and walks off the parapet at Camelot, believing he can fly. A young stablehand is maimed in the ensuing carnage. His mother vows revenge, and assassinates the Knights Of The Round Table one by one, via poison, forgery, and a series of appalling traps, until Merlin confronts her. (TV14+, 120 minutes)

Three out of five stars.

The Secret Of Nimh: A streetwise rat (Marlon Brando) confronts his circus-freak past, with help from the crime lord (Don Rickles) he was ordered to kill. Meanwhile, an officer from Health And Human Services (Jude Law) and a naïve young mouse (Chloe Moretz) fight in court to shut the circus down for excessive "butt-play". Directed by Tim Burton.

One out of five stars.

Flight Of The Navigator: A troubled teen sneaks inside gigantic EZ-bake oven and gets accosted by the lamp. Caged in with his own stink and hormones for a week, he hallucinates an epic journey. His parents find him in a cow pasture 300 miles away.

Two out of five stars.

Grease 3: A ragtag cluster of disgusting, musically-inclined perverts breaks into a theatre while a show is in progress, and holds the audience hostage. The cast of the show challenges them to a dance-off for their freedom. Starring Al Pacino, Harry Shearer, Kate Bosworth, and Common. (R, 80 minutes)

Zero stars.
garote: (ghostly gallery)

The first Halloween mix was born from my effort to learn Ableton Live. Suddenly, beat matching was trivially easy! I had so much fun throwing samples on samples and trying weird things that it spawned a whole series of mixes, and with each new one I always promised myself I would get back to the Halloween theme. Well, it took eight years, but I finally got around to it. This mix has been waiting as unfinished pieces for about half that time, and the creative mojo to put it all together just hit me during this especially rainy spring season.

Back in 2009 I didn't understand Ableton's BPM settings very well, so I locked everything to 166BPM and rolled with it. This mix has more range. I got to throw in some old film scores, some classic industrial music, and even some hardcore punk! And of course there's the usual enormous pile of movie and TV and video game samples. If you only have half as much fun listening to it as I did making it, you'll still have a lot of fun.

Here's an Apple Lossless (ALAC) version, in 24-bit, for all you audiophile types like me. (357mb)
Here's an AAC version, suitable for playing in iPods and almost all other modern music players. (138mb)
Here's an MP3 version, suitable for digital players new, old, and ancient. (114mb)

You can click here for the tracklist ... or just skip this link and listen to it without knowing what's in store for you. I recommend that. :)

Happy sort-of-Halloween!
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