the moment ends

Why I'm Still Single

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 19:47:00 -0500

I think I figured it out- the single barrier to ending my tenure as a single man.

It's quite simple really. It's just that I really don't have any interest in making out with drunk girls. I'd probably be married by now if I like hooking up with drunk girls. But I don't. So I'm not.

Never thought I'd say this...

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 15:18:00 -0500

But coalescing forces have conspired to turn me into a Miller High Life drinker.

Firstly, I no longer have the ability to appreciate finely flavored microbrews. All beer tastes like tingly to me. (I am creating my own multi-tiered lexicon for my newfound way of interacting with the world.)

Secondly, or perhaps this is more of a corollary to the aforementioned primary force, I am now more constricted by my finances than I have been in quite some time, so I cannot justify the expense of beer that is anything more than a)wet and b)alcoholic.

Thirdly, every once in a while I fall hard for some form of advertisement. I like to think that I am in general much less susceptible to advertising and marketing than the average bear, but in this instance I am very much the sucker. The post accident Scott is THE target market for this ad.

Today, I would like everyone to do this:

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 12:10:00 -0500

Episode III and A New Hope

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 12:10:00 -0500

So, I'm just now (between bill negotiations [sans love songs]) getting ready to wrap up Episode III of the Chassafrass podcast, and Episode IV will follow quickly on it's heels. But I've been wondering, what is the proper length of a mix nowadays?

For most of my life it was 28-45 minutes a side, depending on what size Maxwell II's I happened to have in stock. For the past 5 years or so, it's be 1:19:30, or as close to that number without going over, as that's what will fit on a CD-R. Now that I've totally transcended this whole physical media thing... How long should I make the mix? I'm a little disappointed that it took me 3 iterations before I even thought to raise the question, but that's ok.

So what do you guys think? Short and sweet for consumption on the commute? An hour for the workout session? Pushing two hours for those holiday road trips? The latter is definitely my personal preference, as I'm generally a huge fan of the road trip, and often envision you guys listening to this mixes as you're driving up to Truckee for a boarding session, crossing Jersey on your way to the beach, or heading up to Sayre for some time on the Homestead.

So I'll put up a poll and see what (if anything) you guys have to say.

Which reminds me, if anyone beside the Falletaeus is reading this thing- don't be shy about commenting... As enjoyably self-aggrandizing as this whole activity is, I'd love to have some dialogue about these ideas I'm spitting.

Dreams

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 12:29:00 -0500

So, last night I had the most emotional experience I can ever remember having in a dream.

I am very much a dreamer- in just about all senses of the word. At one point int my life (late high school early college) I become obsessed with analyzing my dreams (I know this is quite a shock to some of you- Scott can, at times, be obsessed with analyzing things), and using them to better understand this whole human experience thing. I kept dream journals and would sit for as long as it would take trying to bring the whole crazed menagerie of images and ideas back into my consciousness, one thread at a time. This whole process had a lasting effect on my ability to recall my dreams.

So last night, at one point in the frantic, gone to plaid bazaar that is my subconsciousness, I found my self in a locker room bathed in a soft, pale blue light and shrouded by the mist of hot showers. there were more people than belonged in a locker room, all criss-crossing my path on their own quest for readiness for the world outside. There were men and women all in various states of undress, applying deodorant.

Deodorant, and my own body odor in general, has become more of an issue in my life than it ever has. Perhaps issue is the wrong word... it's more like I never even thought about it before, beyond sitting in a store sniffing different deodorants, deciding which one smelled like Scott. But now that I can no longer smell, I'm thinking about this whole body odor thing quite a bit. Thus I'm having dreams about it. A definite first.

So, in all of this criss cross, gotta get where I'm going action in the locker room, I happen past a women whose deodorant blasts my with an intense waft of it's heavily perfumed scent.

This was the first time I've experienced the sensation of a scent in more than 2 months. I was overwhelmed with joy. This dream was not a lucid dream- I thought this was waking life. I thought my sense of smell back. I wanted to call out to my mom- "MA!!! It's back! I can smell! Bring me some oranges and cedar chips! [And a blender!]" The only thing I can recall is the joy. A big bright bundle of joy. I could smell. I don't remember anything more about the cascade of my dreams last night.

And I don't want to. I just want to remember what it is to experience the world through scent. If my olfactory nerve ever crosses the picket line it's been walking, I'm gonna drop out of the 'real world' for a few days and just walk around deeply inhaling everything and everyone.

Thank God for dreams.

OMG- (you thought i was gonna type ponies, didn't cha?) I have something in common with the President

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 19:49:00 -0500

via Slate.com

My eyes got all glazed over when the article started getting all "baseball, people who play baseball, baseball, baseball..." but the first couple of paragraphs held my interest.

I couldn't help but linger over the line, "Bush's power meter is a poignant reminder of how much his presidency has atrophied." and muse about what atrophy my power meter is a poignant reminder of?

Cycling does appeal to me because it gives me an outlet where I can see measurable change in my life. It almost as if it's a stand in for what my investment accounts used to do for me. I could measure and track and have proof of my improvement. But this time, I feel that it's a much more worthy improvement. (headaches and anxiety of medical bill-induced bankruptcy notwithstanding.) My power meter gives me a proxy for improvements in my health, and a much more useful, in the cycling world at least, metric- my wattage output. Getting faster and climbing bigger hills and traveling further and further, and (eventually!) winning races motivates me in a way that I've never been motivated to improve before. And that motivation helps me to not smoke or drink, and to eat right and to make the most of my time.

In another sense, it helps me to feel like I have control over something meaningful. Which is the opposite feeling of what the passing of my youth, and the waining of my bank account have given me. I have felt helpless. Not hopeless, mind you, but I have felt less and less capable of making a difference in the world. Of going out and effecting noticeable change. And I've come to realize that, to a great degree, our happiness and sanity revolves around our belief in our abilities to make positive changes with our actions.

So in this small way, I can commiserate with our President. I too dreamed big, ignored those wiser than me, and faced failure. And I really do take immense pleasure in putting in the hard work to see my wattage numbers increase. I also realize that dreaming big, blazing your own trail, and meetinf failure at the end of that trail are cornerstones of a successful life, so long as you don't give up. There is always tomorrow.

Even though I have recently been overwhelmed with feelings of dispair and of being out of control... those are just feelings. Feelings wax and wane, and color our lives. (I'm almost out of blue, btw) But I have an idea that I am an intelligent, caring man, and that I have gifts to give, and that my failures gave me the experience to make better decisions in the future. And I take heart in the thought that ideas can last for generations.

Episode II

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Wed, 5 Dec 2007 23:15:00 -0500

So how did everyone like the first mix? Are you into it as much as you're into sandwiches?

Here's the latest installment, hope it gets at least one person to shake their ass at some point. Please feel free to use the blog to comment, tell me what you guys like, what you're fast forwarding through, etc.

Click Here to Download

Anosmia

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Sat, 1 Dec 2007 11:15:00 -0500

I know that not many of your are as obsessed with learning as much as possible about Anosmia as I am this beautiful saturday morning... but just in case you are, here's some interesting information about my condition. (i have a condition. can i get a little label pin stating such? or maybe tim and mark feel like starting some sort of a magnetic ribbon campaign for anosmiatics?)

ii) Treatments for olfactory loss from Head trauma(HT)/ Post traumatic injuries

As mentioned previously, the olfactory system has the ability to regenerate. Indeed, there is the potential for recovery after a head injury and animal studies have demonstrated that recovery is possible. Costanzo (1985, cited from Smith and Seiden, 1991), recorded cells from the olfactory bulb of a hamster and demonstrated recovery within nine months. However, in humans the prognosis is much lower and the estimated possibilities for recovery vary widely from 15% to 39%. (Duncan and Smith, 1995; Smith and Seiden, 1991).

It is generally believed that this aetiology can not be treated with drug therapy. However, approximately a third of sufferers do recover (Duncan and Seiden, 1995) with the most likely cause being natural regeneration of the olfactory system. The onset of regeneration usually occurs within three months of the trauma (Mott and Leopold, 1991); beyond one year then the chances of recovery are slim (Ikeda et al., 1995). Early recovery may occur due to mechanisms such as the disappearance of blood clots, and later recovery, due to regeneration of neural elements (Smith and Seiden, 1991; Smith and Seiden, 1991). Complete recovery may take approximately five years (Duncan and Seiden, 1995).

from here it gets all science-y on my ass, and i KNOW that none of you are interested in that.

but apparently not only does my injury to my olfactory nerve (the first of the cranial nerves, as we all obviously know) impair my ability to smell in the conventional sense, but my ability to detect and process pheromones is also impacted. so maybe that will keep me from falling in lust with too many women for my own good.

Airports and a number of Senses

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Sat, 1 Dec 2007 10:30:00 -0500

so i'm sitting in an airport in charlotte, nc waiting for a connecting flight to denver. it's a 3 hour layover. 3 hours. almost nap-able. except that i need/want (need? am i addicted to the computer? [good question (thanks!)]) to be able to have my laptop juiced up for the flight... and apparently electricity, or at least those magical knee-level 3-prong acceptors, are pretty scarce in north carolina these days. so i'm sitting beneath the departures board, neighbor to the only outlet in all of concourse b.

when wandering through a crowded airport such as this morning affords me the opportunity to, i can't help but wish that there were metadata tags above each of the occupents of this oh so opulent, but public electricity stingy, concourse b. mostly just where each person was from, where they are going to, whether they're traveling for business or pleasure. to visit their long lost brother who was unknowingly adopted 34 years ago by a couple in manitoba. or maybe they're flying to omaha, hoping to land the big westwood account. coffee is for closers, btw.

but then this little hallucinatory day dream takes an interesting turn, and i want to assign flickr tags to everybody.

like the 50 something obese woman dressed head to toe (literally) in vibrant purple. she was even carrying a minature pillow covered in, you guessed it, a purple pillowsheet. she get tags like 'ocd,' and 'comfy.'

the 20 something white kid on the magic carpet with the cellphone to his ear, head to toe (literally) in white, complete with some oversized urban/snow camouflaged puffy jacket and gold chains thrown in for good measure? simply 'cool kid,' 'wigger' and 'absolutely ridiculous'

ahh, airports and sleep deprivation. like mr. pibb and red vines.

so i got some fascinating news yesterday. as a result of my head injury, i have lost the ability to smell. yes that's right. one of the primary sense that we mammals use for interacting with the world around us. gone. for an unknown, and very probably permanent leave of absence.

i've been suspicious that something was wrong. i know that must seem ridiculous, and i know actually warrant a little bit of a further exploration of the topic.

i was in denial.

it was just that i was housebound and living in a relatively sterile environment. (umm... yeah)

it was just that fall isn't the most fragrant of seasons. (which is interesting because i spent a long time last night trying to remember the last real thing that i had smelled, and it was in fact the smell of fall leaves during my ill fated bike ride)

it was just that i was congested. (even though repeated applications of facial tissue and profuse blowing yielded nothing.)

so there it is. i'm coming to terms with it. ok, not really. not really at all. i'm in shock. i CAN'T SMELL. which means i can barely TASTE. and i am an incredibly sensual person. i love to eat. i love to go for hikes and bask in all of nature's glory. i have a bit of a soap/satchell fetish. (juniperridge.com) the first thing i experience whenever i recall any of the women i have loved is their scent.

I CAN'T SMELL.

i spent about an hour last night running around the house rubbing oranges with my finger nail and inhaling deeply. nothing. open a jar of thyme? nothing. open up a fresh bar of soap? damn. oh i know! cologne! holy shit. i can't smell.

so, in order to rectify the situation, i've decided that the next time i hit my head, instead of losing the ability to smell, i'm gonna gain the ability to fly. or walk through walls. or maybe even read thoughts. but i'm definately gonna gain something. i know that much fur shur.

so in all of this, i've been thinking about the 5 senses. let me just say, that that number drilled into us as kids is completely wrong.

close your eyes. move your right hand out in front of you about shoulder level. which of the five senses are you using to gain an awareness of where you hand is? NONE OF THEM. actually, you are using proprioception.

how about balance? which of the five senses is that?

pain?

i know i'm parsing it kinda fine for preschoolers... but c'mon. i'm scott freakin chassey. i'm gonna ginsu those mothers.

so yeah. airports are wild. smelling stuff rules. and dumbing everything down is for pussies.

and the blog is back. or, more to the point, the blog is starting for real.

as is my life.

Podcast

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 14:19:00 -0500

I've been wrestling with uploading a podcast to reincarnate this blog, but I'm kinda dubious about the level of success that I've achieved. Being that I'm the consummate cheapskate, I won't pony up the $5 for a hosting site, and the only free one that I've found doesn't seem to want to play nice with Leopard.

Here's hoping it works!

Click here to download the file

Click here to subscribe (not working yet... sorry)

For All

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 29 Jul 2004 09:23:00 -0400

Ah to be alive
on a mid-September morn
fording a stream
barefoot, pants rolled up,
holding boots, pack on,
sunshine, ice in the shallows,
northern rockies.

Rustle and shimmer of icy creek waters
stones turn underfoot, small and hard as toes
cold nose drippingsinging inside
creek music, heart music,
smell of sun on gravel.

I pledge allegiance

I pledge allegiance to the soil
of Turtle Island,
and to the beings who thereon dwell
one ecosystem
in diversity
under the sun
With joyful interpenetration for all.

- Gary Snyder 1992

good question...

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Mon, 26 Jul 2004 12:04:00 -0400

"For Locke, property is a natural right and as such is prior to government, which is founded to protect men in the exercise of their rights. In much contmporary liberal thought, property and property rights are seen as deriving from the particular laws of particular societies. What difference do these accounts of the avrious origins of property make for the role of the state in the economy?"

the crux!

Reasons to Dispatch Bush

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Tue, 20 Jul 2004 13:04:00 -0400

a good one:

DAY 21:
President Bush's 2004 official election campaign sells clothing made in Myanmar. This is in direct violation of Bush's own trade embargo against the country, one of the world leaders in sex trafficking, human rights abuses, and narcotics production.
The US is currently experiencing the worst textile industry slump since 1953, due in part, to inadequately enforced trade laws.
(Source: "Bush campaign gear made in Burma," Newsday, 03/18/2004. "4,000 textile jobs lost in 2003," Charleston Post and Courier, 01/14/2004. Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Burma, US Department of State, 02/25/2004.)

for those of you not familiar with mcsweeney's, it's a lit magazine put out by david eggers. some great stuff in there each issue. i highly recommend! (almost as much as i recommend reading all 78 reasons to dispatch bush that have been put forth so far.)

One of These Days

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Tue, 20 Jul 2004 07:01:00 -0400

"One Of These Days" - Neil Young

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit downand write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
And I'm gonna try
And thank them allfor the good times together.
Though so apart we've grown.

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit downand write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long.

And I'm gonna thank,
That old country fiddler
And all those rough boys
Who play that rock 'n' roll
I never tried to burn any bridges
Though I know I let some good things go.

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long.

From down in L.A.
All the way to Nashville,
From New York City
To my Canadian prairie home
My friends are scattered
Like leaves from an old maple.
Some are weak, some are strong.

One of these days,
I'm gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I've known
One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long.

One of these days,
one of these days,
one of these days,
And it won't be long, it won't be long.

New Ipod

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Mon, 19 Jul 2004 08:41:00 -0400

out today! schweeeeet!

grey morning

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Mon, 19 Jul 2004 07:02:00 -0400

what an interesting weekend... i spent most of it backpacking with my friend michelle. and on saturday evening, we ran into my first ever wild bear. a relatively large black bear sauntered across michelle and my path as we were hiking down the appalachian trail in the delaware water gap.

so, we had set up camp on mt. minsi, had a nice little snack, and were just enjoying the evening. since we still had a few hours until dark, we decided to walk a little further on down the trail and see if there were any nearby creeks. so we're walking and talking, the trail is good and clear, nice and flat along the top of the kittaniny ridge, and all of the sudden, michelle stops, and goes "Scott, this that a bear?" now, i have logged many many a mile hiking and backpacking through the wilds, having backpacked that very stretch of verdant pennsylvania several times. and i have never come across a bear. deer, turkey, porcupine, skunk, raccoon, coyotes, sure. bears? nope.

so i look at this big black shape about 100ft in front of us, around a slight crook in the trail, and i go "nah its just a..." and on cue, the big ol' thing just starts ambling across the trail. "... big freaking bear," i manage to eek out. "just don't move" i whispered. not hard advice to take at that point. and so it gets out in the trail, and is just about to cross back into the woods when it notices us, and swings its head around to have a staring contest. the adrenaline at this point was AMAZING and i just started calmning myself down, thinking about all the steps to take. ok, if it charges, there's some rocks over there i can get to them before it gets here, i can yell to michelle to follow my lead, and raise my hands above my head and start yelling and screaming and growling. all theories on keeping bears at bay that i'm familiar with, but was never really looking to test out. luckily, it never got there. seemingly satisfied that we weren't anything of interest, it just continued right on its path through the woods. michelle and i waited a few seconds, and then slowly started making our way the mile or so back to camp. once my head completely cleared, i realized that i had had my digi camera in my pocket the whole time...

since it was so close, and we had a good 12 hours before we broke camp, and had plenty of smelly food with us, we decided it was best to bag the rest of the trip and just hike the few miles back to the trailhead. it wound up being a really nice hike capped off by one of the best firefly displays i've ever been treated to.

Loaves and Fishes
------------------
This is not the age of information.
This is not
the age of information.

Forget the news,
and the radio,
and the blurred screen.

This is the time of loaves and fishes.
People are hungry,
and one good word is bread for a thousand.

--David Whyte

more on organic cotton

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Fri, 16 Jul 2004 07:54:00 -0400

Toxicity: Growing conventional cotton involves the indiscriminate spraying - both on the ground and from the air - of chemical toxins to eliminate insects, control weeds and strip the plants of leaves for harvesting.

In 1994, at least 50 million pounds of pesticides and over one billion pounds synthetic fertilizers were used in six major cotton growing states.
It takes about 1/3 of a pound of chemicals to make one standard T-shirt.
Accidental pesticide poisoning causes 20,000 deaths and 3 million non-fatal poisonings every year, worldwide.

Health Hazards:Originally formulated as nerve gases for warfare, at least 107 pesticide active ingredients are carcinogenic. Pesticides have been responsible for birth defects, respiratory problems, behavioral changes, infertility, sterility, hormonal imbalances and a variety of short-term maladies.

Water Worries:Pesticides contaminate ground water in at least 32 states, and half of the U.S. population relies on ground water for its primary source of drinking water.

Hidden Expenses:Taxpayers unknowingly pay out billions of dollars in annual subsidies, pesticide regulation and testing, hazardous waste disposal and cleanup, environmental damage and higher health care costs.

Children at Risk:Millions of children in the U.S. are exposed to carcinogenic pesticides through food, contaminated drinking water, household products and - for children who live near agricultural areas - pesticide drift.

Poisoned Ecosystems:Besides killing pests - which eventually become immune to the chemicals - pesticides are toxic to an array of beneficial wildlife, including fish, birds, bees, crustaceans, and aquatic organisms. The poison is passed along the food chain.

Soil Erosion:Despite recent improvements in soil conservation, dependence on a single crop such as cotton causes serious problems. Without crop rotation, key nutrients are depleted, resulting in topsoil loss.

Stats of the Union

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 15 Jul 2004 15:54:00 -0400

The U.S. government is going into the red at the rate of $991,000 per minute.

The IRS website is maintained by a company incorporated in Bermuda.

Since 2001, corporate tax collections have fallen by $11 billion.

Halliburton has 15,000 workers in Iraq and Kuwait, 4,000 more than the number of British soldiers deployed there.

Less than 10% of the SUVs sold in America today will meet China's proposed fuel-economy standards.

If global-warming trends continue, 15% to 37% of the world's species will be extinct by 2050.

61% of Americans think the biblical story of the world being created in six days is "literally true".

75,000 The Passion of the Christ "nail pendants" were sold the week Mel Gibson's film opened.

61% of American workers say they received "no meaningful rewards or recognition" for their work last year.

71% consider themselves "disengaged" clock-watchers.

The cost of the Bush tax cuts this year alone is enough to give $9,793 to each of the 2.9 million people who've lost their jobs since he took office.

Revenue loss from the Bush tax cuts over the next decade equals Social Security's baby-boomer reserve.

Without Social Security, 48% of senior citizens would live in poverty.

In 2001, 476 more Americans died of malnutrition than from terrorism.

American adults have gained an estimated total of 150,000,000 pounds in the last year.

Suburbanites weigh an average of 6 pounds more than city dwellers.

One in every 115 Americans works for Wal-Mart.

Wal-Mart offers workers $1,000 in catastrophic health coverage, but they must pay at least $500 a year for it.

More than half of all Salvadorans would like to move to the U.S.

Alabama became the last state to repeal a ban against interracial marriage -- in 2000.

41% of Alabamans voted against lifting that ban.

Paperless voting machines were named the worst technology of 2003 by Fortune magazine.

The odds that two members of Yale's Skull and Bones could face each other in a presidential election are 1 in 26 billion.

Still Glass, Getting Lower

Working women make 79.7¢ on the male dollar, down from 80.4¢ in 1983. That's already adjusting for maternity leave and other child-rearing factors. If such choices are not factored in, women make only 44¢ on the male dollar. Female professionals average $10,000 less than their male counterparts. Over a 40-year career, that difference (compounded 10% annually) costs each of them $4 million.

What Did Bush Give to You?

We all know that the bush income-tax cuts were a boon to the richest Americans. But did you know that an executive making $1 million gets an annual tax savings of $63,211 -- more than the pretax salaries of three Wal-Mart associates combined? Here, the Bush income-tax cuts represented as an hourly take-home raise, across the income spectrum:

ANNUAL INCOME
TAKE-HOME RAISE FROM BUSH TAX CUTS
THAT'S LIKE _____ EVERY MONTH

$10,000
5¢/hr
($8) medium Domino's pizza

$20,000
21¢/hr
($36) basic cable bill

$35,000
43¢/hr
($71) two Pampers Baby-Dry value packs

$55,000
74¢/hr
($123) car insurance on '99 Accord

$100,000
$1.73/hr
($289) iPod mini + 40 iTunes

$200,000
$3.72/hr
($620) pair of Manolo Blahnik Sedara d'Orsay pumps

$1,000,000
$31.61/hr
($5,268) 12-day cruise for two on the Queen Mary 2

i see a little silhouette of a man

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 15 Jul 2004 13:20:00 -0400

freddie mercury's real name was farookh bulsara, and his uber-toothy grin was due to the fact that he had four extra teeth. he never got them removed due to a fear that it would impact his singing voice.

philip k dick on science, science fiction, reality, and the book of acts

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 15 Jul 2004 12:29:00 -0400

for those of you unfamiliar with mr. dick, he was a science fiction writer writing throughout the 70's. his stories are the basis for a bunch of big hollywood flicks, including blade runner, total recall, and the minority report.

he was an amazing person, no matter whether you believe him to be a prophet (as some do) or just plain old paranoid delusional. strong themes of paranoia and confusion, as well as shifting perceptions of reality run throughout his work.

so this little speech he gave never ceases to take my thoughts to interesting places, no matter how many times i read it. hopefully it will do the same for some of you.

blue sky in the morning

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Thu, 15 Jul 2004 07:24:00 -0400

it was nice to get up this morning and be greeted by a little patch of blue peeking in through my window. it had been solid grey for the better part of a week. whenever someone asks me, "is it nice out?" my answer is always depenedent on the amount of blue i can see in the sky. tempertature, wind, and the rest are all secondary in my mind.

saw "anchorman" last night. very good flick. not quite as funny as napoleon dynamite, but its definately up there. a bit more low key than i was expecting. ferrell wasn't quite as out there as he was playing "frank the tank," but ron burgundy is a great character. and he is pretty out there, at one point proclaiming that san diego is german for "whale's vagina." steve carell of the daily show definately stole the show for me. and brick looks just like my uncle jon, which added a whole different aspect for me. definately recommended movie.

--------------------------------------------

the morning is full of storm
in the heart of summer.

the clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of good-bye,
the wind, travelling, waving them in its hands

the numberless heart of the wind
bearing abouve out loving silence.

orchestral and divine, resounding among th trees
like a language full of wars and songs

- from "the morning is full" by pablo neruda

"enough"

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Wed, 14 Jul 2004 09:58:00 -0400

so here is a pretty good inaugural posting for my little site here... mr. chouinard does a good job of laying out the rough edges of the case that i hope to make with my life, through words and deeds. patagonia is a fantastic company, solely owned and operated by yvon and his family. his is one of the last of the outdoor equipment and clothing manufacturing companies that has not been bought out by a corporation. one could make the argument that this better allows for him to maintain his vision of an ecologically sound, and progessive for that matter (patagonia essentially midwifed the organic cotton industry), business. it is when groupthink and the search for that holy grail, the bottom line, takes over that these ideas which are, for the most part, unprofitable in the short to mid term take over, and "externalities" become an acceptable byproduct of corporate business.

-------------------------------

Don't Buy This Shirt Unless You Need It
by Yvon Chouinard & Nora Gallagher
Featured in Patagonia's Late Summer 2004 catalog

Near the headquarters of Patagonia, on the central coast of California, the Chumash Nation enjoyed a good life for thousands of years. They lived in small villages and possessed fur blankets, intricate baskets and soapstone pots decorated with shells. They painted elaborate abstracts in mountain caves. In every village were game-playing fields and sacred buildings. Almost every day, most Chumash enjoyed a cleansing sweat in the village temescal. In each village was a granary for stockpiling food that would later be distributed to those in need.

Chumash traded exquisite olivella shells for black pigment, honeydew melons, pine nuts, wild tobacco and various herbs and salt. By the 16th century, theirs was a complex society of hunters and gatherers with a far-reaching, sophisticated trade network.

Other nations along the western coast shared this life. Gerald Amos, a member (and former chief) of the Haisla Nation in Kitamaat, northwest Canada, recalls a friend of his father who would leave home in the dark to paddle to his trapline four miles by water. He would spend the day walking the lines, checking and resetting the traps. “Along the way back to the boat, during the late fall and early winter, the coho salmon would be still in the creeks that they passed, so they would stop at one of these creeks and take a couple of coho, which they would clean and pack home in their backpack together with what-ever animals they had taken in their traps. The fish provided them with their supper later that night."

Such lives are often called subsistence, which brings to mind the barest, hardscrabble survival. But there is another way to look at them. At Patagonia we choose to call them “economies of abundance.” In an economy of abundance, there is enough. Not too much. Not too little. Enough. Most important, there is enough time for the things that matter: relationships, delicious food, art, games and rest.

Many of us in the United States live in what is thought to be abundance, with plenty all around us, but it is only an illusion, not the real thing. The economy we live in is marked by “not enough.” We once asked the owner of a successful business if he had enough money and he replied, “Don’t you understand? There is never enough.”

We don’t have enough money, and we also don’t have enough time. We don’t have enough energy, solitude or peace. We are the world’s richest country, yet our quality of life ranks 14th in the world. As Eric Hoffer, a mid-20th century philosopher, put it, “You can never get enough of what you don’t really need to make you happy."

And while we work harder and harder to get more of what we don’t need, we lay waste to the natural world. Dr. Peter Senge, author and MIT lecturer, says, “We are sleepwalking into disaster, going faster and faster to get to where no one wants to be.”

We might call this economy, the one we live in, the economy of scarcity.

Lest you think the economy of abundance is gone with the old Chumash, consider Europe. Europeans still buy only a few well-made clothes and keep them for many years. Their houses and apartments tend to be smaller than ours; they rely on public transportation, and small, efficient home appliances and cars. Europeans enjoy a 25 percent higher quality of life than Americans (while we consume 75 percent more than they do).

Or, look at the people of Bhutan, whose king insists on measuring “gross national happiness.”

Any person or nation can grow fatter and fatter, richer and richer, sleepwalking toward disaster. Or we can choose to remain lean and quick, wealthy in beauty and time and, that word that inspired our forefathers, wealthy in happiness.

In Patagonia’s environmental campaign this year, we looked at the plight of wild salmon and what it might take for us to become what Ecotrust calls “a Salmon Nation,” a nation of people who make choices that contribute to the health of whole watersheds and the economies of the people who live in them. A salmon nation is a nation of abundance, where people live in a way that fish can thrive. If you think this is an impossible dream, check out Seth Zuckerman’s essay "The Gift: Salmon Recovered" and learn how wild salmon rebounded in Alaska after the state employed sophisticated tools like sonar, stream bank counters and airborne spotters to ensure their salmon were not overfished. In the last two decades, commercial catches in Alaska have more than doubled.

At Patagonia, we are dedicated to abundance. We don’t want to grow larger, but want to remain lean and quick. We want to make the best clothes and make them so they will last a long, long time. Our idea is to make the best product so you can consume less and consume better. Every decision we make must include its impact on the environment. We make ski jackets that are the right jackets, with no compromises, yet they are elegant enough to wear over dress clothes in a storm in Paris. (Most ski jackets sit in the closet nine months out of the year.) We want to zero in on quality.

In the economy of abundance, wild salmon are given back rivers in which to run. Trees grow to their natural height. Water is clean. A sense of mystery and enchantment is restored to the world. We humans live within our means and, best of all, we have the time to enjoy what we have.

and in the beginning...

noreply@blogger.com (themomentends) — Wed, 14 Jul 2004 07:49:00 -0400

so, i'm finally getting around to doing something that i've been meaning to do for quite some time... not sure if it will be a worthwhile endeavour for anyone but me. hopefully it will at least be worthwhile for me. a cathartic exercise at the least. a chance to add some cohesion to the ideas and feelings that i have in my day to day life. we shall see.

its drab and dreary here in nyc. but at least its not hot and humid. i'll take just about anything over hot and humid.