gone to croatoan

Farmhouse Architecture Externalizes the Encapsulated Eyes of Tragedy

2009-12-29T17:15:00.000-08:00

Baus-Weber Home, Kansas, 1902, from Shorpy.

Attractive Repairs

2009-12-18T09:58:00.000-08:00

Broken pottery mended with plant resin and powdered gold.

The Good Samaritan, Non-Dual Natures, Creating Enemies

2009-12-10T10:22:00.000-08:00

I was reading some of the parables of the New Testament recently. I am pretty suspicious of religion, but I do like old stories. I was struck by how much focus is given to social dynamics in Jesus' parables. I think it's is important not to dismiss these solely because you disagree with the religious context, because the stories of the New Testament have deeply valuable implications for those who live secular lives. The path to achieving entrance to heaven, according to the writers of the New Testament, is to be accepting, generous, and forgiving. Even if you disagree with the cosmology of Christianity and find that the the history of the faith has made you suspicious of anything Christian, the values of the New Testament provide what seem to me to be good advice on how to get along with others.

Take the story of the Good Samaritan. A man asks how he must live in order to get into heaven. He does not understand what is meant by the command to "love your neighbor." Jesus tells him about a Jewish traveller who was beaten and left for dead by bandits. Two men passed the wounded man separately, and both ignored him even though they were of social classes which were expected to be charitable. A third man, a Samaritan, came upon the traveller. Samaritans and Jewish people were at this time not getting along - both sides accused the other of blasphemy. But the Samaritan took pity and helped him, even though the traveler was at best a reviled stranger and at worst a vile enemy.

The story ends with a question:

“Now which of these three would you say was a neighbor to the man who was attacked by bandits?” the Jesus asked. The man replied, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said, “Yes, now go and do the same.”

On the surface, you can interpret the moral advice of the Good Samaritan quite simply - you should help those who are hurt. I think everyone feels the urge to help even if they are not moved to act on it, so the parable of the Good Samaritan seems like it might be easy to dismiss. But there's another interpretation which I find much more intriguing. This interpretation poses a difficult challenge to how you sees the world,

In the story, Jesus answers the man's question that the man's neighbor is a man who was nominally an enemy. The implication is that the person you should consider your neighbor is the person you hate the most. You have to love that person as yourself if you want to meet the moral standard necessary to enter heaven. You can't just help the needy. This is not a story about charity, it's a story about challenging your stance towards your enemies. You have to try to love people who despise or disgust you. That's good advice, even if you don't want to go to heaven.

Why is this valuable? I think it's valuable because you choose to have your enemies. Everything happens first in the mind. David Loy explains it well:

One way the interdependence of good and evil shows itself is this: we don’t feel we are good unless we are fighting against evil. We can feel comfortable and secure in our own goodness only by attacking and destroying the evil outside us...There is fear in that, of course, but it is also exhilarating. The meaning of life becomes clearer.

We all love the struggle between good (us) and evil (them). It is, in its own way, deeply satisfying. Think of the plots of the James Bond films, the Star Wars films, the Indiana Jones films. In such movies, it’s quite obvious who the bad guys are. Caricatures of evil, they are ruthless, maniacal, without remorse, and so they must be stopped by any means necessary, We are meant to feel that it is okay - even, to tell the truth, pleasurable - to see violence inflicted upon them. Because the villains like to hurt people, it’s okay to hurt them. Because they like to kill people, it’s okay to kill them. After all, they are evil and evil must be destroyed.
What is this kind of story really teaching us? That if you want to hurt someone, it is important to demonize them first - in other words, fit them into your good-versus-evil story. That is why the first casualty of all wars is truth.

Dualisic thinking is appealing because it simplifies the world, but if you identify yourself as fighting "for" or "against"something, you are dehumanizing those whom you oppose, and that's a terrible trade-off to make. Enemies are created first in the mind. You create them. You decide. A human being's actions and point of view are informed by experience, history, and personality. People are extraordinarily complex creatures, and to call one an "enemy" is to view only one facet of who they are. There are no villains until you decide that calling someone "evil" is enough. A person doesn't become an enemy until you identify him or her as such.

The problem with it is that having an enemy is a very combat-ready position to put yourself into. Making someone an enemy makes it okay for you to want to hurt them, physically, emotionally, or socially. What can you do with an enemy except fight them? Militaristic thinking works okay when two people are trying to hurt one another, but no so great when you have to live in the same world together. Who wants to talk to their enemy?

I know of very few people who have to deal with violent people on a regular basis. We do not live in a world in which the militaristic paradigm is useful. The stakes aren't the same. Most people's disagreements are quite abstract, when you think about it. Perhaps you define someone as an enemy because of their job, their garments, their car, their behavior, or their values. Are those good enough reasons to limit your understanding of someone to the tiny sliver of the world in which the two of you disagree?

A story: One night in high school I was driving home with several friends. We were stopped by a policeman at some sort of nightlife monitoring checkpoint. I let him see my license and insurance, and he sent us on our way. As soon as I'd driven away, my friends in the car praised me for handling the situation calmly. That was a baffling compliment, since it didn't occur to me to handle it any other way. The policeman was just a guy doing his job. He was not my enemy. But for my friends, he was someone who might wish them harm. They were expressing shock that I was able to relate easily to someone whom they had identified as their enemy. All demonizing someone does is create or reinforce a wall between you and another person.

This is a point of view that strikes most people as absurd, but everyone falls prey to this mode of thinking. Everyone has a person or group whom they feel threatened by. Many people array the world in a way that reinforces the distance between themselves and the people whom they disagree without examining the implications. The implications of doing so are profound. A few years ago at a family dinner I got into a screaming match with a relative who took a position on civil rights that I disagreed with. We ruined dinner for everyone else, and created a rift between the two of us that I still feel. I was responsible for allowing the situation to escalate, because I decided that his opinion made it okay for me to yell at him. Something like that fight can only occur if you treat a human being as an enemy.

The Good Samaritan parable tells us that we're not living moral lives unless we're trying to replace hatred with acceptance. David Loy reminds us that we can take an active role in how we relate to people we disagree with. What these two stories say to me is that it's not enough to be good to the people whom you already like. That's easy. You have to make an effort to expand the circle of goodwill around you to include people whom you dislike. Take control of your perceptions. Your mind is the switchboard in which you label and direct your experiences. It all starts in your head. Use it for good.

Ringlemere Cup

2009-11-30T10:31:00.001-08:00

The Ringlemere Cup is Bronze Age vessel found in England in 2001. It was made of gold, and dates from between 1750 and 1500 BC. It was badly crushed by a plough not long before being found, and I adore how it looks like a dented tin can. The damage to the cup makes it less a stately artifact and more an object of unintentional abstract beauty.

All Hail John Landis Mason and His Gift to the World

2009-11-30T10:08:00.000-08:00

For it is through him and his gift that our foods have become more delicious.

On November 30, 1858, the US Patent Office finalized patent 22,186, and with this act the Mason Jar was born.

All hail the Mason Jar!

Dogs are nerds, and cats are jocks.

2009-11-28T13:25:00.000-08:00

Just so you know.

Ballard Streets

2009-11-25T12:18:00.000-08:00

Kodak Carousel

2009-11-20T10:12:00.000-08:00

Here's what happens to me when I look at photographs of my family: I get lost in a slightly happy, slightly bitter, slightly exciting, slightly sad memory.

This clip from the AMC series Mad Men, is the best description of the seductiveness of photographs I have ever seen. I don't think it matters if you've seen the show or not (I haven't). I don't care about the context of the piece. The character back stories and the place this scene occupies within the overarching plot don't matter.

Embedding's been disabled, so you'll have to watch it on Youtube. The salient dialogue, if you'd rather read it, runs as follows. An ad exec is pitching a branding campaign for a Kodak slide projector - it's the "wheel," but wheels aren't appealing. It needs to be renamed. He shows pictures of his family, his children playing, his marriage. His description:

This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards... it takes us to a place where we ache to go again.

It's not called the wheel, it's called the carousel. It let's us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved.

The music of the scene tells us all we need to know about the man and his relationship to the happy family in his photographs: He's estranged from them, and the ache he is talking about is his own ache.

Because Mad Men is about advertising and design, lots of designers have taken inspiration from this scene, but I think that's missing the point. While he is talking about how to influence people, mostly, he's talking about our relationship with photographs and memory. Technology can be used to assuage an ache, but I'm more interested in the ache itself.

I love photographs, but I think they are a slow poison sometimes. Memory can be a crutch, a drug, or a fantasy, if it's used too much as a reminder of when times were better. It's okay for a child to travel around and around back home again, because a child has no choice but to grow. It's almost perverse for an adult to travel this way, though. For an adult, traveling into memory can be both a good thing and a bad thing. Sometimes memory has nothing to do with growth, and everything to do with an escape into better times.

I think it is better to live in the specific moments that we are placed into by time than to live in those moments that we have chosen to record with images. The weather plastic on the windows is billowing in and out softly, and every so often the door bumps with wind. The fridge is humming. Today I will go for a long walk to the north, which is where I like to walk. To the north of Ballard the streets widen and the houses get taller and more comfortable. If you keep walking long enough eventually you can see Puget Sound.

Degrees of Wikipedia

2009-11-19T16:49:00.000-08:00

Okay, I just invented a new game, and I'm calling it "Degrees of Wikipedia"

Rules
Here's how it works:

Become curious about something.
Go the Wikipedia "Random Article" page. (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random. I suggest you paste it into your Firefox toolbar for ease of access). You will be directed to a random article.
Now, using only mouseclicks, navigate to the topic you're curious about. Your goal is to get to the topic you're curious about using only link clickage to move about Wikipedia. You must do so in as few clicks as possible.

Example

I just tried this using the destination Nigella Lawson.

My starting article the Polish island Ostrow Grabowksi. From Ostrow Grabowski I clicked on island, then to Great Britain, then to England, then Culture of England, English Cuisine, and there in the subheader English Food Writers and Chefs we find Ms. Lawson!

I therefore have a Degrees of Wikipedia score of 7, as it took me 7 clicks to get from start to destination.

Notes

This is a game of personal bests and endurance, not of player/player competition. Play against yourself!
Should the Random Article widget land you on the article you meant to be your destination, you are barred for life from ever playing Degrees of Wikipedia again. Such luck is unsporting.

Sleep, Ragnarok, Difficulty

2009-11-18T08:11:00.001-08:00

Last night, more nightmares. I won't go into them but to say they blended familiar daily indicators of life going awry with confusing, illogical events. Distressingly, all took place in the realm of the real. These things could happen. I got into bed two hours after the sun had gone down and stayed there despairing retreat from the world. I don't like the darkness. One's options are limited when the sun is gone. This is why Fimbulvetr, the endless winter that precedes Ragnarok, was so fearful to the Norse.

I felt awful the next morning, almost indistinguishable from waking after having drunk several beers. I'm now interested in examining the metric of how I feel on waking as a way of examining how useful the activities of the previous day were. It's already hard to wake up, and lately the slightest roadblocks seem to bowl me over. Every fortnight my energy gives out and I give up. "I give up" is fearful and disturbing when taken out of context and I feel crawling dread at leaving it without quotation marks or modifiers.

Nightmares: Brains, Suicidal Cavemen, and Windy Bridges

2009-11-16T09:36:00.000-08:00

I've had nightmares two nights in a row--frequently enough to make me think a season of them is coming. Perhaps it is not. Saturday, I dreamt I had learned to explode brains with my mind but was not able to control that power. My loved ones died with bleeding noses. This dream was accompanied by a confusing nightmare in which Stone Age clairvoyants influenced the people of the future to change the past so that the clairvoyants would never exist. Suicidal prescient cavemen. Upsetting.

I dreamt last night of someone being blown off the bridge by it. She was just gone. A windstorm is coming. I'm seriously considering pleading with my girlfriend not to walk across the bridge.

Rain, noodles, wrists.

2009-11-11T08:41:00.000-08:00

I walked up a rainy hill yesterday, and a man raking leaves smiled at me when I was halfway up it. He raised on hand as if to stop me, and once he'd caught my eye, smiled genuinely. It was an oddly communal experience. On my way home, an old man laughingly commented on the light rain. My boots were soaked through. His joy was infectious and instant. Being able to reflexively enjoy little things in life is a good skill to have.

You need a large pot for fettucini, but I used a small pot, and the noodles stuck to the bottom. The pesto I added to it may have been on its last legs - it tasted vaguely bitter. I had a third cup of matcha with lunch. The method of preparing matcha is addictively simple: whisking or shaking the powder in water to create a foam and froth. I'm enjoying the constant, small level of energy it affords me. It's not nearly as extreme as a giant cup of coffee--probably because I'm not using that much matcha.

My wrists are beginning to ache, probably from the writing. I remember when I was little I took great pride in the callus that developed where I rested my pencil on my finger. That disappeared once I got in the habit of writing on the computer. Now, the physical manifestation of habit is in carpal tunnel pain, a decidedly less visible, and more inconvenient sort of thing. Pain in one's wrist can stop one from writing. I suppose that using a pencil had the same problems. When I held mine too tight as a kid, I couldn't write for hours afterward.

Smaller-Scale Buddhism

2009-11-09T16:01:00.003-08:00

Here's something I figured out on my own: The key to applying the teachings of the Buddha to one's life is to create personal allegories. To "get" any of the teachings, you have to scale down the philosophical concepts of Buddhism in such a way that they are understandable in the context of one's everyday life. Some concepts in Buddhism are difficult to understand because they are so extreme and abstract, while others conflict with a scientific understanding of the world. These ideas have to be interpreted to be useful.

I don't know much about Buddhism, but I think that I have learned how to scale down two of the difficult introductory concepts of Buddhism so they work in my life.

Dukkha
Dukkha is suffering, and the teachings of Buddha are intended to lead the student away from dukkha. Buddhist literature describes dukkha, explains where it comes from, and shows how to escape it. People usually interpret dukkha to refer to mortality-related topics like pain, physical illness, death, and sorrow.

Most people deal with pain, death, and sorrow infrequently, which makes dukkha seem like an abstract concept at best and really painful to think about at worst. But mortality is really just the biggest, scariest and most profound forms of suffering. Buddha also referred to some pretty mundane forms of dukkha: association with the unbeloved, separation from the loved, and not getting what is wanted.

In short, dukkha also refers to dealing with people, to being alone, and to managing one's desires. These topics are far easier to think about regularly than death. In fact, these are topics that you must think about regularly.

Do you have a difficult relationship with your coworkers? That's dukkha. Do you find it hard to be by yourself (or even so scared of being alone that you keep poor company)? That's dukkha. Did your big plans for lunch get derailed by a rush of customers? That's dukkha, too. Dukkha is everywhere, if you look. You can focus on dealing with that dukkha as practice for dealing with the big, scary, profound, dukkha that is mortality later.

Samsara
In Buddhist tradition, samsara is the antithesis of enlightenment. It's the endless cycle of suffering caused by birth, death, and reincarnation. Samsara is visually represented as a wheel, rolling endlessly through birth, death, and rebirth. with one's life after rebirth being influenced by one's karma from the previous life. (Hindus, Sikhs and adherents to a few other religions also believe in samsara, but I'm talking specifically about the Buddhist conception of the word.)

Some interpretations of samsara get a little baroque. In Tibetan Buddhism, for example, samsara involves a gradual but more or less inevitable downward fall through six stages, from near-godhood down to hell, passing through the states of demi-god, human, animal, and hungry ghost on the way. Hell in Tibetan Buddhism isn't an eternal state of punishment, though: It's a state of woe you reach as a direct result of your actions, which you can eventually leave. Once you've left Buddhist hell, you enter back into the rest of the cycle. It's an endless, predictable process.

Ghosts, gods, and reincarnation. These are superstitious words! They make samsara pretty difficult to stomach if you're of a pragmatic mind. A better way to think about samsara than as an abstract religious concept is as a cycle of behavior. And, just like dukkha, you have to think about samsara on a small scale. Samsara is the process of moving inevitably between pain and happiness and back. This is samsara on a human scale. Within the larger context of birth and death, we experience smaller cycles of pain and happiness. The big wheel of samsara has many small wheels within it.

Part of being in a cycle of behavior is experiencing peaks of emotion, peaks which one experiences regularly as rewards or as respites from the painful portion of the cycle. (Those peaks of emotion might only be peaks relative to the rest of the cycle, but they're still peaks. Even the most miserable person can point to one moment and say, "That was the best part of my day.") Peaks like that are the anchors of cyclical behavior. Painful behaviors become cyclical because you get attached to certain parts of the behavior that is causing you pain.

An easy way to think about this is in terms of substance abuse: A drinker might feel great at drink number three, progressively worse as she continues to drink, and feel awful and useless and guilty in the morning. She might perk up in the afternoon just in time to do it again in the evening. A really bad problem drinker would do this every night. That's is a cycle of physical suffering repeated on a daily scale. That is samsara.

Or think about eating a fast food burger for lunch every day. You might eat it, feel bad about having eaten something bad for you, then eat the same damn burger again the next day because all you remember is how good it tasted.

It can be about other people, too. Some people seem to do the same things in every relationship they get into, and as a result their relationships follow predictable patterns of elation, disillusionment, and pain. That's also samsara: a cycle of emotional suffering repeated on a human scale.

Now, I think it can be painfully obvious to an outside observer when someone is locked into a pattern. Particularly for the examples above, it might look as if breaking the cycle should be incredibly easy. Those examples are just examples. Not all cycles are that obvious! Do you do anything that you enjoy but which also hurts you? Do you cling to anything painful simply because it's familiar?

Antlers, Solar Shields, Wool from China

2009-11-06T17:30:00.000-08:00

A few minutes after we walked into Value Village, it began to pour rain, and I knew that I'd get my feet wet on the walk back. In the short term, thrifting can be a fruitless endeavor. I go to thrift stores weekly to twice weekly, and rarely purchase anything. In the sense of accomplishments, this is wasted time, but in the sense of opening oneself up to things, it's opportunity cost. That's the short term. The rewards are in the acquisition of interesting objects that I could not have purchased at full price, or perhaps at any price. These objects enrich my life. Today I bought the antlers of an eight-point deer. The points have been rubbed white. The skull cavity is still attached. I'll put it on my wall soon, but for now the rack sits on my desk with the points protruding dangerously off the edge. 14.99 buys decorative personality. And I bought some Solar Shield sunglasses, quite similar to a pair I used in Arizona which delivered the clarity of vision and depth of field that other sunglasses promise. Those had brown lenses, these gray, but they are otherwise identical. Those were 99 cents. My third purchase was a gray wool sweater, with cable patterns down the front, a polo collar, and a surprisingly deep placket. The label inside is in Chinese, and I plan to ask H. what it says so that I can properly follow the cleaning instructions. That was 6.99. For 25 dollars I purchased decoration which I doubt I would have found elsewhere, fine sunglasses at a fraction of the cost, and a sweater which I doubt one could purchase in the United States. This is the long term reward of thrifting: a unique complement of objects that are themselves unique. Sometimes you just get your feet wet, and sometimes you find something amazing.

Rabagliati, Carver, Peck

2009-11-02T13:43:00.000-08:00

I've been reading the autobiographical comics of the Canadian Michel Rabagliati lately, and I'm really in love with the simple way in which he depicts the relatively mundane events of his life. Each of Rabagliati's books chronicles a specific time in his life, using his author surrogate Paul to describe his upbringing in Canada. The books are full of details that are very tied to time and place. Last night I read Paul Has A Summer Job, and a good place to start is Paul Goes Fishing. The titles are wonderfully direct. They remind me of the title of the first Kings of Convenience album: Quiet Is the New Loud.

In Paul Has a Summer Job, Rabagliati's Paul drops out of school in Montreal and spends his summer as a camp counselor. He learns to rock climb, befriends a blind student, and has a brief camp love affair. Very few of the things that happen in the book seem important, but upon finishing I felt as if I'd been granted access to something deeply intimate. Reading it, it was is if I was sitting with Rabagliati in the quiet corner of a library. His writing seems muted by the passage of time, as if he's recounting an old memory which he long ago came to terms with.

Rabagliati has thick, dark eyebrows, and in every photograph I've seen of him, he has turned his body towards the camera to smile. It's hard to see how he could write anything unkind or complicated.

That is a compliment. Let me explain by comparing Rabagliati to the wave of minimalist short stories that followed after Raymond Carver. The genre into which his stories fit is realism. Carver's minimalism was used to convey the sense that something was seriously wrong. There's a tendency to call stories that focus on problems and pain "realistic," but this discounts the huge portion of existence that is both real and happy. Rabagliati's work is also realism, but he uses simplicity of description to convey contentment, not misery.

Gregory Peck disliked the common actorly conceit that it's more realistic to play the villain. For him, villains weren't inherently more realistic, it was just harder to play the heroes as if they were real people. Peck preferred playing heroes.

Ritual, Hawkwind, Laity

2009-11-02T09:14:00.000-08:00

During my meditation class yesterday, I felt stress in the form of a sharp pile of junkyard trash in the core of my stomach. Rather than focus on it, I moved my breathing to my nose and throat and found that the sharp edges of the trash were soon dulled. I imagined them covered with a thick creamy fluid like cornstarch and milk. It has become surprisingly easy to sit still for the ninety minutes of the course. I made a commitment several weeks ago to attend weekly Buddhist services faithfully for one month. After four times it had become such a habit that I felt guilty for not attending the fifth. Guilt was compounded by a serious lack of calm during the two weeks I skipped. Returning to the course feels like a return to ritual. Rituals are a sort of habit one chooses and imbues with meaning.

There's a line in the Hawkwind song "The Black Corridor" that has struck me lately: "Stars occupy minute areas of space - they are clustered a few billion here, a few billion there, as if seeking consolation in numbers." It had not occurred to me that space is emptiness. Some words are of such common use that I forget their similarity in meaning. Space is a sort of emptiness on a grand scale.

My teacher at the Buddhist temple, an older lady with short-cropped gray hair, lives on site. Her life is relatively mundane: She has a husband, a son, and a job. Her responsibilities result in the same frustrations and joys as anyone else experience. She told us in passing yesterday that they are instructed to be normal, to mingle, and in mingling to provide good examples for others. Before she brought this up, I had assumed she was a monk in training. This is another synonym: a Buddhist is a sort of person conscious of their approach to life.

Paseo, Sendak, Gandolfini

2009-11-01T09:13:00.000-08:00

Friday we ventured out for dinner and a movie. We ate Paseo sandwiches, and while ordering I found a powerful thirst. The menu read "soft drinks, specialty drinks" and I asked about the latter. The cashier said they had never had any specialty drinks, so we paid and drove to Taco Loco for horchata. Taco Loco was closed, so we drove home and had water with our Paseo sandwiches.

Paseo sandwiches are, without question, the best sandwiches I have ever had. Their cuban-style pork roast (mayo, jalapenos, and large chunks of sauteed onions, in a thick baguette-style roll) is consistently the most flavorful and satisfying thing one can eat with two hands. The ingredients are unified by a tangy sauce but retain their individuality.

After we'd eaten our sandwiches, we saw Where the Wild Things Are at the Majestic Bay. I was surprised to find that it was about roughhousing and accidentally hurting the people one is close to. A sample line of dialogue, said like an angry, hurt child: "You stepped on the face part of my head." H thought it depressing, saying that it captured that feeling of a child who feels bad for having misbehaved and is about to be punished. I can't disagree - for a child's dream about a fantasy escape, it involved deeply realistic relationships, and ended without resolution. Deeply beautiful, but troubled and troubling. I think the lesson of Where The Wild Things Are is You must take responsibility for the people who love you.

Problems

2009-10-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

I think in absolutes, and I believe what I think. I assume that when someone loves me, they love everything about me and always will. I assume that when someone says something callous, it means they cannot stand me. I assume that casual relationships will always remain casual. I assume that how I feel at a given moment will be how I feel later.

I think in terms of character and plot, albeit on a very dim level. I want narrative meaning in my life a great deal, and struggle against the idea that it might be better to be part of a tragedy than to be part of no story at all.

Think of your life as a platform on which you're standing, and of your outlook on life as your feet. You must constantly adjust your footing to keep the platform level, not just so you don't fall off, but so you can reach things above you using the platform. I believe that most people keep their platforms horizontal with relative ease. Mine is at a constant slant.

I am more comfortable being unhappy than I am being content.

A decision looms.

2009-10-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

Today I was contacted by the human resources manager at my former place of employment. She told me that the company, having become busy again, is opening up my position, and wanted to offer it to me before they opened the position to others. I have two days to respond to them. This is a problematic decision, and I should consider the pros and cons.

Pros
I know the content fairly well, understand the office culture, and get along with the staff. This would be an easy position to get into.

Now knowing that they do not necessarily have any loyalty to me, I would be free to be mercenary: I could request to work 4 days/week while also spending some time looking for other work.

My unemployment runs out, if not soon, then eventually, and my job prospects are nonexistent. The security of having a source of income is a wonderful thing, and a lack thereof begins to look very scary. Life is effectively on hold now.

Having spliced myself into other ventures (City Fruit and Seattlest), I would have extracurricular activities to supplement my work.

I could start seeing my therapist again.

Cons
I had a nagging dislike of the work when I was last there. The work is not fulfilling.

I'm not sure how it would be to work under my old supervisors again after having been let go.

The position gives me no clear path by which move into areas which I find more interesting.

I am afraid that I would fall back into the pattern of goofing off and doing the minimum of work possible I set for myself last time. This laziness and lack of productivity made me a mediocre, unhappy worker.

Something about it feels like giving up. That is to say, I had hoped unemployment would give either my career new direction. Is this the sort of thing it's unseemly for a man to complain of?

Incomplete Sardine Tacos

2009-10-27T11:31:00.000-07:00

For lunch today I fried a can of sardines in a haphazard mix of paprika and cayenne pepper, removing bones throughout the process. I put the result into tortillas on beds of cilantro, and topped it with lashings of homemade chipotle salsa. I was following a recipe that calls for yogurt and pesto, but chose to omit both, as those flavors seem odd for sardines (and because the fridge has no yogurt). The flavor was incomplete. I now think the writer had a point: the yogurt would have provided a unifying creamy base, and the pesto would have provided the right accompaniment to the slightly overwhelming flavor of the sardines. Sardines are quite different from the white fish usually used in fish tacos. That fish provides a flaky protein base with little flavor. Sardines, however, do not flake in the same way and provide a flavor so intense that one feels compelled to brush one's teeth immediately upon finishing the dish. In all, a dish with a potential not yet achieved this morning, but I am hopeful to perfect it, as its ease and complexity make it appealing.

A mid- to late-18th century hunting frock.

2009-10-26T21:20:00.001-07:00

It's interesting to compare this to a modern hunting coat-- do you notice that the basic functionality of this garment hasn't changed much? The fringe on this wicks water away, a function accomplished by the waxed cotton or nylon composition of modern hunting coats.

2009-10-26T10:32:00.000-07:00

Abe and Ash.

2009-10-14T12:07:00.000-07:00

This Norman Rockwell portrait of Abe Lincoln.

Bruce Campbell as Ash Williams from Army of Darkness.

It's not just the blue shirts that make me think they're similar, right? There's a common, lanky quality to each too, right?

Observation

2009-09-23T20:02:00.000-07:00

Once you have given up the enjoyment of certain large things in life like constant drunkenness and self-destructive points of view, the enjoyment of life becomes to be experienced in small things like a walk at dusk or the smell of water in a rain barrel. What's interesting about this to me is that in both the large and small things you're experiencing the exact same world: it is simply your perspective and focus that have changed.

American Movie on Youtube

2009-09-21T13:08:00.000-07:00

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