What Do You Like?

I’ve been considering what I’m going to work on next. Have some thoughts? Please do share them with me.

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Invigorating

I just spent an hour wandering around one of the many island beaches we have here on Vashon taking pictures and wallowing in the autumn weather. Thick gray clouds, chilly air and the umami scent of big leaf maple detritus decomposing. Consequently, I’ve got sand in my shoes and a song in my heart.

 

My New Old Van

If you follow me on Instagram you may have noticed a number of strange vehicle pictures creeping into my feed. If you know me at all you know that my superpowers have a weakness. My dumb ass just can’t stay away from old vans. Vanagans, microbuses, pretty much anything that looks like it was designed to roll over Martian sands. Well, I’ve gone and bought another one. This time the king-daddy of vans (IMHO) a 1991 Mitsubishi Delica L300 Chamonix Space Gear.

Mine began its life in Kyoto, Japan where, apparently, it spent most of its early years sitting in someone’s garage. It’s 26 years old and has appreciably very few miles on the odometer (81,000 when it arrived). Most systems in the vehicle resemble their state when new, although since I received it I’ve uncovered some minor issues.

Right now the biggest outstanding problem comes from it transportation. After months making its way to the Pacific North West, on the last day it was inbound, the driver of the truck it was loaded on drove it into a low-ish overhanging tree in Bellevue.

The good-ish news is that I’ll have it in the body shop next week to see how much we can unfunk.

Thank You Tom Petty

Your words saw me through some tough times of my own. I’m sorry to see you go, sorry to see time caught up to you.

Square One

Had to find some higher ground
Had some feat to get around
You can’t say what you don’t know
Later on won’t work no more
Last time through I hid my tracks
So well I could not get back
Yeah my way was hard to find
Can’t sell your soul for peace of mind

Square one, my slate is clear
Rest your head on me my dear
It took a world of trouble, it took a world of tears
It took a long time to get back here

Try so hard to stand alone
Struggle to see past my nose
Always had more dogs than bones
I could never wear those clothes
It’s a dark victory
You won and you also lost
Told her you satisfied
But it never came across

Square one, my slate is clear
Rest your head on me my dear
It took a world of trouble, it took a world of tears
It took a long time to get back here

The Perfect Dream

I’m going to break the Primary Unspoken Rule of Writing right now. Why? Because I had this dream last night that woke me up. Instead of it being one of those cold sweat, terror induced exercises in heart stopping I was in fact awoken by self-induced paroxysms of joy. Seriously!

Retro Futuristic City by HTECORE

The dream, as best as I can recall, centered around the idea that I had started a gym. People would come to my gym to swing around like Tarzan or Spiderman. Sort of a city sized exercise in parkour in which no one ever missed a leap or came down hard in a fall. And I was the *best* at it.

The setting was rich, luxurious.  Somewhere between the vast darkness of Los Angles in Blade Runner and the vertical richness of The Fifth Element, and the whole time I was flipping around this place like a trapeze artist operating outside gravity.

Like I said, I awoke from this dream, and a huge grin was plastered on my mug. I felt elated and I spent the next hour or so contemplating all the “whys.” “Why was that dream so good?” “Why did I wake up from feeling so satisfied?” “Why can’t I do this on command in my waking life?” “Why don’t I have the words to describe this amazing experience inside my dumb skull on the page?”

 

A Kludge, Fully

Fast and furious followed by complete silence. The kind of silence you’d only find at the bottom of a dark and deep cave. Yeah, that’s how things have been around these parts since I’ve had to turn my laptop, a highly portable writing utility, into a desk potato.

The top row of keys on my laptop’s keyboard (the one built into the computer) stopped working. I tried troubleshooting using a shop and their solution was to replace the whole upper deck of my computer (late 2013). Not just the keyboard. Not clean out the notoriously dirty and potentially clogged fans or ventilation passages. Just the whole top deck. A >$800 part apparently so capricious in repair that they couldn’t even give me an exact estimate.

So yeah, there’s no way I’m going to do that. I bought a $20 USB keyboard and began to learn how to use a ‘desktop’ productively for the second time in my life.

Okay, so then July happens. The ‘E’ key (third from the left in the top row on most laptops) apparently becomes stuck. I take the whole key apart all the while mumbling something like “I thought you were busted? Why can’t you remain busted?” After hours of looking for any reason the ‘E’ would show up as depressed every 1.5 seconds I give up on repairing the borked keyboard. “I’m going to pull the case and disconnect the keyboard.”

Easy enough right? I’ve invested in a pentalobe screwdriver specially built for this specific purpose and I can nudge connectors with the best of them. So I turn it off, disconnect the power supply and begin surgery. It’s delicate work, like microscopic knitting for a ham-handed lout, but I persevere. When completed, I reassemble my increasingly Frankenstined MacBook Pro, open it and press … the … power … button … on … the … keyboard.

“Oh, good grief!” Hands involuntarily covers my eyes

It’s a wonder I didn’t transform it into a frisbee and chuck through a window in that moment.

Second surgery:

  • Step 1: Open Laptop
  • Step 2: Attach keyboard
  • Step 3: Take deep, cleansing breath and pray to various electronically inclined deities
  • Step 4: Power on computer
  • Step 5: Detach keyboard
  • Step 6: Reassemble computer

The words are still happening, just slowly.