Published On: 09-28-2007 04:56 AM
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I started this a couple months ago and never got it up. So I cleaned it up. Here it is.
I just finished
watching Control Room for like the 3rd time. I it got me thinking. There should be no censorship at all. As long as real people out there are killing
other real people, we should be filming that shit. Moreover we should make a point of showing it
to a huge audience. Because when you see
a real video of soldiers being blown to bits by IED’s and women and children
terrorized by said soldiers, it is truly appalling.
Moreover, I think it can satiate our lust for carnage. Not completely of course, but about as well a
pr0n satiates lust for the real thing.
But then again what would I know…
If our species is going to survive, we need to activate our
instinct to be appalled by killing. There
is plenty of killing going on out there that we don’t see, it should at least
be made visible so we can be appalled by it.
We should only send celibate men to war. That way we can eliminate any hereditary
predisposition to fatal violence.
A soldier should also be allowed to ask his commanders “why
the hell did you send us out here for” and broadcast anything he wants on
YouTube.
peace
Published On: 09-17-2007 04:24 AM
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The Composter Analogy
(I told this story to Sara’s Fiancé, Kyle as a prime example
of a plan/idea that I watched die.)
Back in, well it must have been the late 90s, the idea
dawned on my father to build a composter.
He had done some interesting chicken wire/scrap lumber fence
constructions with varying degrees of success in the past. However we agreed that turning these large
piles of grass clippings and decaying orange peels with a garden fork was
labour intensive, dirty and an overall insult to our collective genius. Also the unpleasantness of this work meant it
was seldom done, and so these smelly piles of unsightly decaying waste would
persist for years. So he went back to
the drawing board, employed his creative imagination, and we indulged in the
joy of coming up with new ideas. We even
consulted the literature and looked at so some proper composters for sale at
the local hippie, greenie, health nut store for granola eaters for
inspiration. And oh what a joy, it was
to design this thing.
We would employ thick plywood and lumber to build a
cylindrical frame. Upon this frame we
would bend or wrap glazed particle board around it and nail it into place. Then using our experience in canoe repair we
would coat the whole interior cavity with an impermeable protective lining of
fiberglass and polyester resin. Then we
would install the screen doors (for air circulation) and employ our bicycle
repair skills to mount the whole thing on a chrome-alloy frame made from old
bicycles such that the centerline would be attached to the pedal cranks
allowing this 8’x 4’ vessel to rotate freely about it’s axis, the ribs of the
frame protruding inwardly would aid on the mixing. We also planned to paint the whole thing
black so the sun would warm it.
This thing was gonna be the most kick-asseddly awesome
composter in the neighborhood. We
figured it would take us about a week build and it would be the envy of all who
gazed upon its functionality. (We even
used the front cog of a bicycle to attach the pedal crank to the vessel such
that a mechanical turning system could be chained on at a later time.)
Nonetheless it took several months to build the thing, in a
garage that was full of incomplete projects already. Frankly I think the thing strained my
parents’ marriage, and if you have ever worked with fiberglass, you know how
unpleasant it can be especially on the “in-cavitations” as it were. Since this was the interior of a vessel the
whole thing was an intricate cavity that my father and occasionally I would go
waist deep into and work on. (I say
occasionally since by this point I was already losing interest, esp. after
having polyester resin drip into my hair)
After much grunting, procrastination, and subsequent
pestering by my mother, the thing was completed. It was completed over-budget, and mid-summer
if I recall correctly, long after our projected deadline. (Seriously, for the money he put into
materials and the costs of getting the frames welded easily would have covered
the cost of two or three of the fun-in-the-sun granola-eater designed and hippie-proven
spherical composters summing to a comparable capacity to our behemoth
monstrosity.) (not to mention the time)
However we did see it fit that we should have a christening of
our now completed project. We invited
the neighbors over, they brought salads and kitchen waste, steaks were grilled,
wine-bottles uncorked, and smelly decaying organic matter was deposited inside
the mysterious black vessel and all were amazed. We demonstrated the turning action, and it
was all matter of fun, that is until the whole thing shifted sideways and began
rubbing on bicycle frame. No biggy we
thought. We shifted it back.
The months began to pass, lawn clippings and kitchen waste
began to accumulate. There were swarms
of insects, (a good sign we thought), my mother complained, so we painstakingly
emptied the thing and moved it “out back” away from the house. And there it stayed. Eventually the poorly triangulated bicycle
frame supports sagged sideways and the bearings in the pedal cranks that were
not designed to support ~1.5 metric tones of static garbage gave out and we
lost interest.
Our project became an eyesore on the landscape. We never even talked about it anymore, since
other unfinished projects had taken precedence.
At this point in the family history the inside of our house was full of
holes, cracked plasterboard, barred ceilings, and other ugly/stressful evidence
of men at play with tool. We completely
defiles the interior aesthetic. I had
made efforts to cleanup/repair. But
where I cleaned (namely the basement) just made way for more unfinished
projects. This was also a stressful
time, I was struggling through college and two of my siblings were having
pregnancies. Suffice it to say, he never
did finish fixing that house….. Eventually
he sold the house, in utter disarray, so as to move to a different town to
better support my oldest sister who was having, and still continues to have,
all manner of career and life management issues.
Nonetheless, that composter became the very embodiment of
our secret shame of an idea that hadn’t worked, a project we could have fixed,
but didn’t for sheer lack of confidence and the falling establishment around
us. It died for sheer lack of
confidence, and error catching. It
exuded secret shamefulness, to the point that when I opened it up a few years
later I found that it had become a repository of shameful secrets. It had been littered with the remnants of
opened shot-gun shells, pornographic magazines with the pages stuck together,
delicately unpackaged feminine hygiene products, condoms and other effects of
the pubescent explorations of young boys in the neighborhood.
So what does this have to do with my fathers’ plan to build
a solar house? Well we are currently in
the happy, optimistic design phase. All
the while, my sister is still living with my parents with her two kids whom she
is unable to care for. This shamefully
not-so-secret arrangement is the object of precisely the type of stress that is
slowly killing my parents. There is
still the rental property that my other (younger) sister is living in with her
two children. This property needs many
hours of work in the way of renovation/repair before it can be rented out and
pay for itself.
And, out of this, my father, turning 60 this year wants to
undertake the construction of a home unlike any other, the ultimate construct,
the object of years of thinking, the solar house that will finally bring him
the joy and comfort he deserves after all these years. And he wants me to help him. However I am apprehensive. Because if this thing ends up anything like
that composter, (like any number of other projects) he will have done a hugely
wasteful disservice to himself and my mother, and I will have helped him.
So what am I saying?
I have not experienced much in the way of success in the past,
especially with projects that I have undertaken with my family. I have deeply entrenched confidence issues as
a result of this. A tendency to
disengage. To stand by and watch as
forces beyond my understanding at the time engulf and consume my plans, dreams,
and aspirations. To do the mind
exercise, get halfway through the implementation and say “aw fuck it!”
The trip to Lethbridge.
So after moaping around here for the longest time I decided
I would take a trip to Lethbridge
to visit an old friend. I packed up and
left.
The drive down was nice.
I have come to a patience philosophy when to traveling by car. I set the cruise control at the speed limit
watch my mirrors and place myself in the traffic such that people can pass me
with ease and stay out of everyone else’s way whilst giving myself as much
space as possible. To some this may seem
like an utter and complete lack of balls.
The way I see it, the fewer lane changes and the lower speed makes it
less risky for my. And by being a
“Chistian Motorist”, being courteous and doing onto others as I would have
others do onto me, this reduces the risk for other people, everyone wins. This also makes it considerable less
stressful, and consequently more boring.
However I had my laptop on the seat next to me full of music to keep me
chilled out as I sailed through photo radar and constructions zones without
worry. I had also picked up Moby’s album
18, so needless to say, I was chilled right out.
That is until I was ~50 km south of Calgary.
The traffic in the right lane was effectively stopped and so was I ~200m
from an exit. Being all chilled out I
decided to resist the urge to go off road in my Taurus and see it through. Traffic moved painfully slowly till I came
upon this sign. I had turned on the radio at this point and
learned of a truck carrying dangerous goods was involved in an accident and
that all traffic on Hwy 2 was stopped.
There was a detour through High
River but it was
painfully slow. Got a lesson in
Karama. I let in a couple of vehicles in
the single lane that was slowly creeping along.
(at about 12m per minute.)
Eventually I came upon what looked like an exit that everyone was ignoring,
so I figured what the heck, even if I had to go way east to get around I might
as well try. But sure enough it lead me
back to a position where I had to re-merge with the slowly inching lane. So I put on my signal light but the lady
(with whom I presume was her grand-daughter) driving the mustang next to me
didn’t get the message. Actually she
actively made sure I didn’t merge matching my progress exactly. I tried getting between her and the semi
behind her. But the trucker, a
hot-blooded middle eastern type made a point of burning his clutch to prevent
me from merging. He also made to point
of cutting over to the right with every inch he moved in an effort to drive me
off the road. Asshole. So I put it in reverse and backed up along
the right shoulder until a semi that I had allowed to merge, let me in. See?
Karma.
The visit with Kyle and Sarah was a huge success. We went to the Japanese Gardens,
took in the some great live music, drank merrily, went to the fireworks, caught
up, and a good time was had by all.
Published On: 09-17-2007 04:24 AM
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I wrote this up in July but I never finished or posted it. Better late than never I guess.
man a plan, a canal,
panama
plans
So many plans, unfolding,
They come forth with exuberant optimism,
They flourish and give birth to skepticism
And then, they die, and leave seed, for new plans
Plans are for the celibate
Fuck planning, I wanna get laid.
And so, along last I think it is time for an extended
entry. Detailing what I am up to, my
current challenges and thoughts, my trip to Lethbridge,
and possibly a heavily hyperlinked review of some fun documentary
films.
So what am I up to?
Well, frankly that’s a worrying question because the answer is: not a
whole lot. I guess I was working a
shit-ass site management job for a while, but that work has dried up. So I was formally “working” officially for
less than 3 weeks so far this summer. I
am not in horrible financial waters, but they are getting tepid.
Why the unemployment?
Well there are several reasons. The biggest I think is basically that I don’t
feel like getting a job right now. Plain
and simple. I am living my isolated
single life comfortably from my little basement suite. As a person who avoids people, this form of
“coasting” is easy to fall into, since I really have no commitments at the
moment and therefore no one is telling me to get off my ass and do anything.
Another reason is that for the first time in ~5 years I do
not have a Job lined up with the Co-op Department at the U. Thus without one handed to me on a plate I am
left to my own devices. I am left
realizing just how hand-fed that program has left me. In a way it’s no wonder that I haven’t shown
all that much initiative and gotten ahead at any of my co-op jobs. I suppose that if I contacted CANMET of
ConocoPhillips or even Nova, they might find me something. But the experience I got a those places was
long on meaninglessness and short on inspiration. Most of the conversation I
had with the people there centered on how everyone was going to get out of
there, not on what I was gonna make of it.
In my pompousness I failed to dazzle or amaze anyone above me. In don’t think any of them were saying “hey
we need this guy”. Thus I became
progressively less driven, and here I am at the tail end of a 7 year
degree. That’ 3 years longer than it
could have taken me had I really applied myself. And to be honest, dearest Internet, that’s
embarrassing. And how do I deal with
embarrassment? I AVOID PEOPLE. Like I am now. Not a healthy pattern. But a pattern that I have followed most of my
life. Hmm
But in all seriousness, I feel that I have cheated myself of
opportunities for success.
And as I sit here all alone, I cannot help but think that I
have come to a plateau in my development as a person. Nice as it is to live alone here for no rent,
I need to move on if I am to grow as a person.
Wow that was a wee bit personal, oh well, it’s not like
anyone ever reads this.
So what else am I up to?
For the longest time, pretty much as far back as I remember
my father has wanted to build a solar house.
What do I mean by ‘solar house’ you say.
I mean he wants to incorporate all the best in ultra-insulation, passive
solar heat collection/radiation, annual geothermal (or otherwise) heat storage,
solar water heating and a gamut of other technologies to effectively turn off
the natural gas line and retire in a home 50-100 years ahead of it’s time.
I have no problem with this idea. In fact, I think it’s a great idea. The problem is the composter.
Published On: 06-10-2007 03:13 AM
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So today I went on the Eco Solar Home Tour with my
parents. It was loads of fun, we looked
at all kinds of solutions to the horrible predicament we’re in. We Went to the Ball Goethermal house, kind of
an unproven concept, (loose ~1/3 of your energy as heat at the pump, but yeah….) There was some interesting xeriscaping, and
the couple that lived there were truly wonderful people.
The Urban Farmer, (Bon Berezan) had some truly kick-ass
gardening and was growing all manner of edible and useful plants I have never
heard of. He really gave a tour, walking
people around the house and spoke extensively about his approach. The really wonderful thing about was that it
was essentially mindful urban gardening, utilizing maximum local biodiversity
to transform a sub-urban yard into a productive landscape. Clearly someone with public speaking skills,
I vaguely heard someone mention that he had or was working on a masters
degree. Oh, and he had the most
incredible compost pile, I volunteered to “dig in” and my right hand now smells like it has been
in a cows ass, and I cannot wash it away.
That is some damn good compost.
The real pinnacle of the day was the Rivedale NetZero Home.
There my father and I got to meet all kinds of people involved in building this
house and ask them all kinds of really hard questions. And they knew their stuff for the most part
and were clear about what they didn’t know and gave us leads as to where to
find more information. Oh and there was
a really nice girl there talking about green building materials, and I got her
number. That is to say her business
number! (She’s probably married but what
the hey… I have to try right? Or is it supposed to happen when you are not
trying at all? Fuck if I know.)
Nonetheless, my Dad has this idea that he can have his whole
NRG efficient house sited, designed and be breaking ground by next spring. And he is hoping that I will design this
brilliant control system for his annual heat sink. I am thinking of a multi-element system this
selective quality heating… etc.. but I
fear there is much work to be done, simulations etc before we can even evaluate
feasibility.
So with all this I didn’t make out to the Inner City Music
Festival, It was nice and sunny all day
for the solar tour, but shortly after I got home the weather turned to shit, so
there was no way I was gonna bike downtown for a 1-hour show. Meh…
Cavemanbob
