Wednesday,
January 24, 2007 2:21 PM
I have welded the bracket and mounted it on the bicycle,
which means I got the two battery 25 volt DC welding system
cobbled together. I do mean cobbled, but SUCCESS. I took
the trailer for a ride and oh how fine to have my burley
trailer back in operation. My helmet to hold the dark glass
for arc welding (you can't look at the puddle without the
glass. It is so beautiful you'll go blind) is a cardboard
box with a hole and the dark lens taped over it. I have
pictures of all stages except the welding, and what a relief
that there are no pictures of me with the box on my head
because I can only imagine how stupid I look. However, it
works. Pictures later poor tators. Oh, its sunny and warm,
and no wind!
Tuesday, January 23, 2007 7:26 PM
It was a beautiful, still day, sharp blew with no dust.
I cleaned up la Casa Blanca and put the new five dollar
battery on the charger for it's run to full voltage. I had
several friends call, and despite my cantankerous nature
that is so awful sometimes (that some of you think I'm in
exile - not by choice) I actually need a little person contact.
Oh course, not so much.
At noon Ed and drive his four wheeler over from Rainbow
acres through the desert, in order to miss the teeming throngs
in Q at the big tent. Cross country the tent is only several
hundred yards away from me, so we walked over as I needed
rescue tape - a by product of the military which makes Iraq
totally worthwhile. This stuff is amazing. TJ had his order
in and I wanted some for myself as I had used three rolls
of it last year. It was around the outside of the tent somewhere
and we finally found it. Ed then talked me in to going INSIDE
where all the materialistic SCHLOCK is sold to people who
definitely don't need it.
THe two pictures I took of Ed outside the tent caused a
bottleneck - there is NO STOPPING, only going. We're Shopping
here!!!. Anyway I got two excellent pictures of my shoes
because I put the camera down too early. Digital. Oh well,
but one of the pictures inside of the tent did come out,
and realize you're only looking at about 1/3 of the tent
in this photo.
 |
This
is my brain on capitalism. This is the Mecca, the wailing
wall the holy tablets. This, this is the BIG TENT.
It stretches off into the distance and the throng moves
as one herd, grazing here, then there. Salad shooterrrr!
RV mats, mobile satellite, Time share, camping shares,
special taco salads, mysteries revealed!
Soft cute collars for your dog's collar, and wax for
your car, and entire houseboat, a line forms at the
rear, and booth after booth of all the shlock that has
eaten my oil and poisoned my world. And I, I had a flint
fire starter in my pocket but not the balls to use it.
|
Afterwards,
drained, as Ed insisted I do even the last interminable
row of shlock, pointing out that we don't get to see anyone
under sixty usually, and we had imported pitch girls. One
was curling her long hair with some sort of advanced curling
iron, and she curled and uncurled it, apparently forever.
I would think when all her hair falls off they'll bring
out another girl. Average age of the crowd, about old enough
for two rescue helicopters in the next two hours. I think
it was the deep deep discount (below cost, not available
anywhere, not on the internet) that caused the excitement
and heart problems. Perhaps a couple of people just had
to get the fuck out of there before they went postal, so
they faked emergencies to get air lifted. That's my story.
I'm sticking with it.
 |
After
the show, I walked back down the wash and found Ed F.
at my trailer. Soon Ed M wandered back as his tolerance
for the show is higher than mine, and we sat and detoxed
with some diet pepsi, and solved most of the worlds
problems while enjoying the warm afternoon sun.
|
Evalyn
wrote a response to the identity discussion below and well
worth sharing - which I will do tomorrow. To put it next
to the Big Tent throngs of cash just seems to be ironic,
wrong, and perverse. Today was a visit to the twilight zone
where many people live, and they scare me.
I hear Phil is talking about buying some steaks and having
us all over, as soon as we figure out where to cook them.
Phil is at a Knap-in demo this week so he's been scarce.
However there is coffee on at the BK tomorrow, and many
of us will be there to solve the thorniest problem of all.
Where to cook the steaks!
Night free chickens, sleep tight.
Tuesday,
January 23, 2007 9:21 AM
I just received a letter from a blog reader and it got me
thinking . . . I clipped out some of the core points and
they are listed below.
"How much of your actions are determined by your identity,
and how is your identity formed?
"So
is our identity based on our actions or do our actions define
our identity? all the facets which make you up...like your
clothing...is it based on your self perception of identity?
Look at the Rainbow kids...you can spot them a mile away....is
it so they can find each other easily...finding tribe members?
Do
you think identity is a easily metamorphic idea? do we wish
to change our identity and it is in a
rut and it is hard to change? Does it take courage to change
your identity?
Is
your identity what people see or is it something underneath
that no one sees? Is it your actions and thoughts?Is it
a belief in your head that all things are filtered thru?
is identity just a filter.
mcnalan
comments: This really stopped me because in these observations
and questions is the request for answer about "who
we are, really." That is my life's journey, to find
out who I am, and the corollary, why I'm here. But I put
that aside because it is too big for my little brain and
heart, but I will take one aspect of identity.The part that
is crucial to understand to prepare for a low energy future
and an uncertain future. I would welcome any blog reader's
views on identity as well.
Like
the word love, identity is a greased pig at the fair. Here
is the dictionary.com definition number 5. " the sense
of self, providing sameness and continuity in personality
over time and sometimes disturbed in mental illnesses, as
schizophrenia."
That is a definition that neatly sidesteps the question.
All it says is that your identity is the part of you that
doesn't change over time. That is not the sense or questions
of identity that the reader is after, nor I. The question
implicit in all the reader's questions is, how is the identity
formed and MAINTAINED and how does it CHANGE? At least that
is my big question.
As a
diabetic I have seen people get diagnosed as diabetic and
they change not one thing even though they know that soon
their penis would no longer get hard (maximum male motivator),
and that they would die in a really shitty way with gangrene,
etc. Yet their desire to continue on doing, eating, being
exactly what they where before is so strong they choose
impotence and death over change. So just what the fuck is
going on when we decide to be "who we are", and
why do we hold so tightly to it?
The reader above suggests that the identity may be a filter
through which we perceive the world and through which we
show ourselves to the world, for tribal identification (whether
at the office - yea look around, or on the streets in Q
where Rainbow family over winters and they recognize each
other).
I think the essential we who walks through the world is
more than a filter of reality, but maybe a combination of
experience, physical body, knee jerk responses (to old hard
lessons) and a constant whirlwind of how we wish to appear
in social interaction, and a part of this is the lies we
want to tell ourselves and others.This last one may be the
cognitive dissonance between who we are and who we think
we are.
I was thinking of expanding that paragraph into an explanation
of each point, but really it is all too much for here, but,
BUT, the idea that I have of myself, and that you have of
yourself. Who we are, what makes us proud or ashamed, and
the complete surprise we have when we do things we don't
expect, nor do these actions fit into the conscious sense
of "who I am, as I know know me". This is where
we have to be careful for we could easily find ourselves
UNwilling to change from what we have, to what we will have
to do in the near future.
Does
you identity require expensive clothes? Does your identity
require that you one-up your friends? Are there a whole
mountain of actions that you "just don't do?"
Who do you think I am, I'm not that kind of girl. Well,
we all can be anything that a human can be. We can eat whatever
another human has eaten, no matter how repulsive to us in
this moment. We can survive almost any action that another
human has survived. Then why, why do we choose to hold onto
"who we are this minute," even unto our own death?
Why are we so reluctant to change the essential "me?"
Chickies,
no matter what comes in the next decade, I think the big
preparation for change has to be in ourselves. We have to
become more flexible in what is OK. I'm amazed at how uncomfortable
my friends will make themselves in order to have the material
goods that they use to define their identity. Physically
all you need is water, shelter, food and maybe heat. The
rest is gravy and all of the rest REQUIRES maintenance.
This is the technology overhead that Phil
talked about in his last essay. NONE of the rest is
necessary.
I suspect that no matter what you and I survive, with or
without the Gucci handbag, SUV, or big screen TV you will
still be you, I will be me, and we will be alive another
day to greet the sun and have the experience of wondering,
what will today bring and ain't it great, ain't it fucking
amazing to be alive and to fill your lungs with air, and
lear at the coffee girl and smell the coffee brewing, and
the cinnamon rolls calling.
You lay exposed that first day you escaped your mother's
womb. You were and are the combination of one egg and the
successful competition between millions of sperm to create
the one you. You were and are unique and unlikely. That
day you lay out there and took that first breath you COMMITED
to this journey, that's the day you got your bonzai buckarro
chaps and said yea rah bring it the fuck on. That was the
beginning of an identity so flexible, so filled with flexibility
that anything was possible and DESIRED. (So what the fuck
happened to me?)
So my task is to learn to desire change again as I did when
I was a baby. My little orb is dented in places and physically
larger than it was then, and I'm certainly more fearful
and self critical. But everyday I struggle to get quiet
(that is what the desert is for me - quiet) so that I can
hear that little boy saying "saddle up!" And I
try to confront conformity to a system that is dying, to
use this society as my cocoon from which to be born into
a very different future.
Make sure your identity, that part you won't let go off,
leaves room for fun and for survival. I don't want to believe
anything I think is right or true, and that is why I wear
my crystal. IT reminds me that I don't know anything and
I don't know what is coming, but it will come. Embrace change,
find your buckaroo and take a few chances. Crack open the
door to change, admit that your goals are just targets,
don't cast them in stone, because your tribe will need you
to be light on your feet and most of all happy! But that's
another rant. Thanks for setting me off Reader T.
Tuesday,
January 23, 2007 7:29 AM
Oh baby it is cold out there, about 30 degrees. Good morning
free chickens. People are out walking their dogs and their
noses are falling off. I bet you there are even people on
Q mountain, to the west of me. In the clear air I can often
see them up there, illuminated by the first rays of the
sun. They are probably all people with an excess of idle
time who nap in the afternoons. If you are of an inquisitive
nature, which comes with idle time, please read more about
the Shoshone
and doing nothing, here.
Monday, January 22, 2007 9:53 PM
Busy fun day of many trips and of a nap at the indian grind
basins, petroglyph site. I finished the Fierce Invalid book,
and missed the connection to return it, but I did go to
coffee with Ed, who had a pretty interesting time with his
family last week.
We drank our senior coffee and then I stopped at the auto
parts store in town that had welding rod. While there I
noticed 3 batteries on the floor, trade-ins against new
batteries. Ever on the prowl for a good battery to resurrect
for you (since Ed's battery was shorted and not useful for
demonstration purposes), I discreetly slid my voltmeter
out of my pocket (where do you keep yours?) and tested each
battery on the floor. Remember this are no good, bad batteries
that have broken someone's heart and failed to do something
and are now to be punished by being, well, killed. If you
remember previous blah blah blah about batteries that we've
discussed, you'll know that 11.6 volts is a sort of magical
cut of line for resurrecting them.
First battery was 11.3V, the second was something like 11.7,
so it was under consideration, the third car battery was
12.53V. That is pretty much a good battery and I rescued
it for $5. And the owner mentioned that he has 50 more in
the back if I want to go through them too. So when you're
thinking solar, know that there is a cheap road (and you
can be sure I'm on it).
OH, did you know that dogs down here get rattlesnake shots?
I learned this yesterday from Kent and Vickie and their
dog Ginger. Two years running they get weakened venom (the
dog) to make them less likely to die WHEN they get bit.
Ouch. I assume there is more to it than that, but it makes
them act puny for a couple of days after the shot. Just
thought you ought to know if you bring dogs down here. Apparently
the ones that like to put their noses down and go for it
(the dogs) are the ones most often bit, but I thought that
was all dogs.
Here's a few pictures and puzzles from today.
 |
The
time of day and the angle of the sun do not do this
picture justice. This is a hill overlooking Tyson's
Wash which you see below me. About a mile down the wash
going south is the petroglyph and grind basin site.
Here I have been looking for the mountain lion or tracks
for about an hour. You can see how much more desert
there is to look over. So I thought I would just make
my stand here and invited the mountain lion to come
on up. I waited, he didn't show, pussy!!!! I didn't
even bring Barstick
. |
The
tree above the grinding basin stretches from the wash
below to above my reclining form on the grind basin
ledge. This must have been a great place to work and
gossip thousands of years ago. Still a good place to
look at the sky and feel the murmur of ancient gossip.
My usual bullshit aside, there is something pretty wonderful
about this ancient site. |
I did find the time to take a little nap at the grind
holes. You can't see them here as I'm laying across
all six of them with my coat under my head napping.
That is the blue I saw. The close up above shows the
danger lurking just inches above my head. But hey,
I like a dangerous nap. |
 |
Then
there are the things that puzzle me in the desert. This
is when I wish you were there so I could turn to you
and say. What the fuck is that? Why is it here? I don't
know Wilson, I don't know. The pile of rocks is big
heavy rocks and there is no fire pit in there. And there
are more than enough rocks left in the desert, so if
they were trying to pile them all up, they quit early.
Hmmm. |
This
is the $5 battery that you can see is reading 12.43V
right off the floor. Why did they replace it? What were
they thinking? 12.43V is not so bad, they could have
saved it. Sob. "How could they treat her so thoughtlessly,
stepping outside she was free. She, never a thought
for ourselves, is leaving, never a thought for ourselves,
home, bye bye " Lenon, Beatles. |
But
now she has a new home, as part of my DC welding pair.
Here she is with a cursory wash off and getting 2.6
amps from the Harbor Freight Solar panels. I added distilled
water and 6 teaspoons of EDTA to get rid of sulfation
and bring the levels up over the plates. The next few
days are crucial. We've done all we can (no not really),
and it its in the hands of . . . |
Oh chickies
there is so much more to say about today, but most of the
alien stuff is covered under the National Secrets Act. However
I did see something worth note today that is not classified.
I heard about a 1959 Airstream 22' trailer in town. I don't
know if it was a Safari, mine is in 1965. The 59 is much
rarer but what caught my eyes at least from the drive by
I did is that the skin seems very straight. It needs buffing,
but when I think that I spent $4500 for mine 7 years ago
and EVERYTHING was broken, I shit when I heard this person
was going to put it on ebay and hope for $3000. Depending
on inside destruction and the state of the floor, I would
guess that beauty before restoration at $6000 minimum. I
have put at least $12000 into mine since then, and what
I have is a, well, a good start. That airstream is going
to be a steal for someone. It will end up on some Hollywood
lot all buffed and pretty and soooo campy for about $100,000
after total interior redo. Oh well, you wouldn't understand
if you don't understand the Airstream passion for things
that work, things that last and are not throw away plastic
crap. You don't see any 48 year old motor homes or trailers
in the desert out here except Airstreams. Appropriate technology,
like my Gransfors Bruks Swedish hatchet, which I have not
lost yet, are beautiful because their form follows their
function, and they just feel right. .
Nite chickies.
