“I do not particularly like the word work. Human beings are the only animals who have to work, and I think that is the most ridiculous thing in the world. Other animals make their livings by living, but people work like crazy, thinking that they have to in order to stay alive. The bigger the job, the greater the challenge, the more wonderful they think it is. It would be good to give up that way of thinking and live an easy, comfortable life with plenty of free time. I think that the way animals live in the tropics, stepping outside in the morning and evening to see if there is something to eat, and taking a long nap in the afternoon, must be a wonderful life. For human beings, a life of such simplicity would be possible if one worked to produce directly his daily necessities. In such a life, work is not work as people generally think of it, but simply doing what needs to be done.”
today i awoke to the existence of something i dreamt of fifteen years ago:
shade map [web]
when we were looking to move rural we understood the importance of sunshine, but the best we could do was go by the often-repeated advice (for the northern hemisphere): find something with southwestern exposure. that formula is ridiculously oversimplified if you live somewhere with steep winding valleys.
i imagined the thing linked above: basically a map with date ranges showing sun exposure.
my reaction today upon discovery was a curious mix: initial enthusiasm given this is a nice use of computers processing data into physical reality usefully, but immediately boredom given a decade's familiarity with the valley's shadow-shapes, and lastly a irksome trepidation that this is the sort of data that fuels land prospecting in a time of scarcity.
which made me recall my pre-move excitement for a herd of whatever where i might fit them all with radio-frequency-id tags and have my computer display a map of their whereabouts, you know, because data is interesting... or more precisely, perhaps i didn't know where to apply my skills? now i cringe upon hearing "internet of things."
i am interested in technology yet it has become a tsunami of dread. the ship promises the shipwreck. technological solutionism is absurd, and it is the new optimism.
but standing in the presence of a tree in the wind, sun or shade, there is respite in now and being.
(this feels like a draft and i'm going to publish it anyway.)
non-metaphorical wild blueberries
when picking wild blueberries
and sugar snap peas
and red currants and even shiitake
it's important to stop and
change positions and
look at the exact same spot
and something appears
sometimes you must simply close
your eyes and
open them
the american sycamore shades the chaparral ravines where i grew up. they grow well near water, even if that water is seasonal. on the opposite coast this tree is also found but not in our particular valley. we planted dozens and they seem to be at home.
negative capability — the ability to exist amid uncertainties, mysteries, and doubt without reaching for absolutes (whether science or spirituality)
phrase first used by john keats [wikipedia]
twice yearly ritual: quitting coffee
the exact dates are difficult to anticipate
go by feel
field of grass
field of pattern
field of algorithm
more machine drawings, a reminder
the trees and late afternoon light provided a visual capture for sounds awaiting full actualization.
we travel
the path
until
we find
ourselves
back at
the beginning
and then
we continue
recently jay gilligan created this video with music i made not so recently.
writing things down allows us to be more effectively perplexed by our past selves.
it's been six months since i started this project. i'd never intended to make an entry per day, but having just crossed the threshold of a full week without posting, it feels like it's time to review.
a convergence of conditions. as usual.
several months ago while listening to bill bryson i experienced deep existential dread. he was expounding upon the history of taxonomy (for his book, a short history of nearly everything, which perhaps would be better titled isn't everything just amazing and also fucked). basically, naming things and categorizing them is an area where humans can't agree much, even today.
this "log" was an experiment as a sort of linear catch-all broadcast of various projects, discoveries, interests, sudden convictions, etc. of course this is totally fine, but as the bits accumulate certain patterns emerge but overall it resembles a meticulously over-curated scrapbook without an index.
in many ways it makes more sense to just build a memex. projects go into categories, and so those projects actually become projects, instead of some underdocumented stuff in a stream of tenuously related stuff.
yet not everything is a project. for example, i considered (earlier this week) highlighting a discovery: the composer rip hayman [bandcamp], who made this incredible layered flute composition in 1977, just re-released.
or i nearly posted some thoughts related to this excellent essay, the user condition: computer agency and bevahior [web].
and i also considered deleting some previous posts which were just a little boring, or perhaps were created during some extreme mood. certain things weren't meant to last forever. digital permanence gives me anxiety on several levels.
so is it a journal? i do think this has helped me sustain momentum. to not lose the plot. (i admit, i did still manage to drift a few times).
and there's more that i haven't fully processed. public vs private. behavioral shifts, performative publishing, identity construction. feedback and conversation. optimal update frequency. technical accesibility, platform context contamination. meaning, now and tomorrow.
in closing.
i may pause this. to restructure and transform energy. it'll change, but it'll be the same.
our wok continues to transcribe stories
most fading slowly until erased through interweaving
despite retellings
while ambiguous semi-poetic language may be thought to obscure meaning, it also allows multiple interpretations to be embraced. all of our conflicting truths and stories can coexist on some level.
so now we know what
six yards of wood chips
looks like and our bodies know what
six yards of wood chips
feels like
is it ok to have a favorite?
the softest (japanese larch)
the most astonishing (curved-trunk apple)
the beloved species (american sycamore)
the mysterious (hollow-trunk cherry)
the best climb (mountainside ladder-branched sugar maple)
the revered (three grandmothers)
but this shagbark hickory we planted eleven years ago is a magnetic spirit.
the correlate to the rarely spoken mantra
nobody is special
is the pervasive, misread, and drippy
everyone is special
which, in the right light, can be let through
(but there still might be a favorite)
this may marks the fifteenth year of monome. and so we released a redesigned grid. it's approximately the eleventh redesign. (i say approximately because qualification is blurry, and that doesn't include the prototypes prior to the inaugural edition in 2006).
this round number 15 (which is actually 20 including the pre-production years) felt like it merited some level of acknowledgement. i started writing a "history of the grid" which quickly sprawled a dozen pages even before i reached 2006: it became a sort of memoir.
and so the art (self) business (corp) dichotomy debate quietly reemerged. trying to detangle what and why to share certain things. to sort meaning from deafening noise and false conviction. to share moments and thank sincerely without overexposure or inevitable misinterpretation.
there is a story. but perhaps a new grid is enough.
there are also apple blossoms in which to immerse ourselves.
foraged violet, ceramic by kelli cain, worn table made from the salvaged hemlock joists of our two hundred year old house.
today we discovered the closet was locked, from the inside. a few weeks ago we finished walling it in, not having used the door because the wall was just, well, open all the time.
so we re-opened the wall to unlock the door. sadly this story did not end with the discovery of long forgotten treasure.
we lived in a city, dreaming of life amidst heavy-laden fruit trees.
twelve years on, this plum's blossoms suggest that just maybe, we are here.
addition to the obscure specialized tool collection: okuda shiitake innoculation stick.
this year is snow cap shiitake in sugar maple. eighteen new logs.
horse chestnut arriving with new colors to share.
"You are strangling your life-force with words. Do not live your life searching around for answers in your word-hoard. You will find only words to rationalize your experience. Allow yourself to open up to wyrd and it will cleanse, renew, change, and develop your casket of reason. Your word-hoard should serve your experience, not the reverse."
brian bates - the way of wyrd (1983)
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