When we dreamt of a better future

Back in the days of American yore, we dreamt of landing men on the Moon, and sending ships to space on a regular schedule - like a space train. The Space Shuttle - conceived of in the 60's, designed and built in the 70's, and surely killed by Reagan in the 80's. Like most of America.

These are pics from the Shuttle launch facility at Vandenburg AFB in California. It was never used for an actual launch, since when the Shuttles were ready for flight, St. Ronnie was President and the strangulation of America had begun in earnest. It takes a big Government to build and operate something so ambitious, so forward looking, and as we all know now, Government is the problem.

Let us lament what could have been, if not for "Conservatives". A future of hope and progress, of equality and science, of fairness and justice for all. A future we here in America will not get another chance at, not in our lifetimes.

But we'll have a few wicked rich folks! Bank on that.

Where we're going

You're living a dream, Mr. Anderson.

Sing a Happy Song

You know, if we all had a song in our heart, the world would be a better place - this world is made up from all our songs, and if we each decided, "Hey! There's enough BS and hate in the world, why don't I instead focus on love and happiness?" Then whammo! There would be love and happiness across the entire world. Ravens and bunnies would snuggle together and listen to folk songs by the sea.

What a world it would be. And it's true - we could have world peace this very moment if we all collectively decided we wanted it.

But we don't, apparently. And so ravens eat bunnies and man oppresses man. Bummer!

Batfreud

All the heroes were involved in the war effort (WW2 only - the other wars, not so much), but as a nerd, I'd like to raise a quibble: If you've got Superman, Batman, and Robin on your side, instead of having them raise and harvest Victory Gardens you instead used them to, oh, I don't know. Kill Hitler? But alas! There are no real heroes. Just drawings, or words, or characters on a screen.

From the original Batman serial film series - 1949, yo! Batman and Robin. The baggy leotards are intimidating, yes? But still, 1949! These 15 short stories ran before the featured movie of the day.

It's interesting to note through art the changing of society's standards. All the tough guys from the early days of movies and tv look like [arnold]little girly men[/arnold]. No definition! Do they even lift?

When you're "Adam West" smooth, maybe you don't need to be jacked.

Your car needs to be, however. Gee whiz tools define the character.

And now consider the Batman mythos as underlined here - created in 1939, WW2 propaganda campaigns, and already with a film series in 1949. A popular TV series in the 60's. Also a wacky movie. Movies in the 80's - 10's. And so many, many comics. A myth is born before our eyes, and enters the Jungian collective - we all "get it", right? Rich playboy with tragic background fights evil using cool toys? It's an expression of our desire for fairness in a closed, controlled system that is not fair, in which we are mostly powerless. A modern hero, for modern times.

Batman also might be a symbol for revenge, but I leave that for you to judge, and also what it says about humanity if true.

For Gondolin!

Ancient Greek war mask, with form fitting face behind. War has led to a good percentage of human evolution - both in body and technology. Death is the ultimate motivator. For Gondolin! For your dreams!

The 3rd leg of the grand stream, draining Gondolin of stagnant waters and all possibility of flooding. Little round rocks collected for weeks, piled in stacks, laid across the established channel. Erosion prevention is the aim. Beauty a secondary concern.

But it is a concern. Beautiful, is it not?

The water must flow.

A memory of a dream remembered

Shamelessly stolen from l.e.s.t.e.r. Ex post facto OK, brah?

This was the dream I lived, twice. On a lake with a canoe and a keyboard, a hoe and boots for working and hiking. A dog - Kennedy (above) - by my side through the woods deep and wide, over beaver dam into the Wastelands, no where was off limits to a boy and his dog in the Summer of 99. Good times. But just a dream, and in that dream fashioned another dream, far off into the future, one day to build a castle of stone and wood high on a mountaintop. Lo! And so it has come to be, a sizable financial commitment to an idea birthed in the heat of fantasy lived, for a season or 4.

Check it: I used to canoe way out to the other side of the lake (a mile or so) where there was this sweet little island of cliff and pine. I made a soft seat of the fallen pine needles and spongy ground between three pines overlooking the lake and mountains, and read Joseph Campbell's "Hero with a Thousand Faces". From late spring to early fall almost every other weekday afternoon, weather permitting, of course. It was magic, and I reminded myself then to remember it, now. And so here it is. Thanks for the pics, l.e.s.t.e.r.

Terminator Dreaming

I had a fevered dream as a 10 year old in which the cities of the world burned and giant mechanical ants crawled up and down the smouldering husks. I was really sick, and there were giant ants all around the New Mexican campground (we were "camping"). That explains the mechanical ants, I reckon. But dreams - nightmares - can linger, leaving a lasting impression.

A day later we were driving through the burning hell of West Texas in August, and still sick and dangerously fevered I had the realization of Death - that my Mother and Father and Sister and baby Brother would die, my Grandparents would die, I would die one day, everyone will die one day. As a 10 year old, it was a damn powerful revelation, for I had no real concept of death hitherto.


So I darkened, and shit got weird all around. And then I developed some serious migraines that would incapacitate me for a day, occurring at times of high stress, ruining so many events. Lasting for years, this shit was intense and there were lots of hospital visits and I came to recall more and more that second fever dream: Death.

And then I saw The Terminator and I was all like: Yep. Killer Robots are gonna get us (Remember the Mechanical Ants?). I was quite a nerd of course, reading anything and everything and lots and lots of comic books were part of that so killer robots were right up my alley. And thus, the source of my robot distrust.


For real! I've been following the topic seriously for years. Running with smart folks, I've talked with robotic experts, read all kinds of papers, and feel pretty knowledgeable on the subject. Robotics are fascinating and will change the world, as will the similar work ongoing in Artificial Intelligence. For good or ill is up to us.

And thus my conclusion: I can't really trust my own opinion of robots or AI, given my series of related mental happenstances. And so I strive for objectivity as I can, even over my own opinions. Or I try.

But really - intelligent robots will kill us all if we don't kill ourselves first. Beware giant Mechanical Ants!

Indian Summer (Winter is coming)

Indian Summer is defined in Maine as any warm day past September 1st. Why it's called "Indian" is not for the curry. It's easy to forget, in the Summer, that Maine is cold, and way up North. And kinda weird. But boy, in the Summer - it can be perfection. I had the BEST Summer in quite some time, due to the fully operational New Gondolin. Take a look - 

Due Northwest. That's my favorite corner.

From the great wall of Redshirt, newly constructed. It was amazing to see the change in the wall and the leaves this past week - from nothing to full on. Some change I like, other change I'm not so keen on. I'm going to miss the Summer and I know I've forgotten: Winter is coming:

Brrr!

Alternate History

Art from the era of Repuglican Ascendency - 2003. When Couch Warriors marched on the Internets protecting American Freedom from Liebrul Traitors and Tree huggers. Losers. It was the age of twisted Conservative dreams.

Art from one of those sick, evil Conservative websites. Seriously, go read "Free Republic" or "Red State" for evidence of the darkness in cyber hearts. This piece hits many buttons on the Wingut Id. I mean, check out that goat!

Original Intent.

Hawking in Spaaaaaaaaace

Er, well, not quite. Zero G though! This is NASA's "Vomit Comet", a modified plane that goes wicked high, then executes a series of dips, within which, for a few minutes, the passengers experience Zero G (good Gangsta name!) and practice whatever they are supposed to be practicing.

Also, as a sign of how wonderful mankind can be, I give you Lego Hawking:

Pretty good, right? And as a sign of how even more wonderful people can be, I give you:

 Hawking in Spaaaaace!

And finally, as a sign of how terrible people can be, I give you some prototype new airplane seats one global carrier is testing whether to deploy or not. For realz!

In the future, who'll need leg room, amirite?

New Gondolin (or TBD)

Here it is - the future site of New Gondolin, or some other name, but probably no name - since I cannot name things. But I try.

Regardless, I got the call this morning that ground has been broken - the big tree on the left of this picture is due South, and is now gone, and the house will be pointing a couple of degrees to the south side of due SouthWest. 

I'll be working on this all Summer and well into the Fall, so I apologize for my absences in advance. This is the goal I've been working towards for about 13 years now, so... well. It's surreal.

Lost Heroes

Like most people - I hope! - I had a series of revelations as a young man, spurred on by reading fiction. One of these great, life changing revelations for me came from reading Jack Kerouac. Worlds opened before me, possibilities. But even more so, a template: The writer who's life is their art. Kerouac - and all the Beats - used their lives as the source for everything they created. In fact, I would suspect many of them lived their lives with this in mind - life as the canvas, the blank page, the clay to be molded. It's life itself that's the work of fiction, to be consciously crafted by the artist.

I dug all this, big time, and fully incorporated it into my life, for many years. To not such good results.

But, now, I am free of Kerouac - I read the very same books that once moved me, and I'm bored, or tired of the constant self-focus. It's all so much flim-flam, especially Kerouac. Much of his writing I find now to simply be bad - which is still a shock, since I once held him in such esteem.

Not to say I still haven't taken a great deal from these books, these lives, these experiences. But, as they say - moving on! Onwards and upwards! And I would remind any impressionable young people who are under the romantic sway of the Beats and Kerouac in specific, to always remember how Brave Jack ended - living the last decade of his life with his Mom, drinking, to finally die on the toilet, alone. The end. Great story, right?

Now, I'm ALSO of the mindset that the artist's life is completely irrelevant to their art, or a Leader's life, or a Hero's life, or anyone who makes a mark on greater humanity. Does it matter if they were cowards? Drunks? Cheats? As time goes by, all those things wash away, and all that remains are the deeds, the acts that still resonate over time. Great battles, stirring victories, sublime works of art - these things go on, enriching new generations. The person themselves.... irrelevant.

Did I contradict myself? Maybe, and it's allowed. Regardless, and only personally, I feel a great weight off my back to be freed of heroes - all heroes. They're just people, and as I've learned from the lowest place to the highest, none of us has any clue what's going on. Just bumbling and stumbling. And so you could subscribe to the philosophy of "It's better to burn out than to fade away", but I guess all I'll say to that is: Make sure it counts. Often - most of the time? - it won't. And if it won't count, is it really worth throwing your life away after some youth inspired dream?


Hmm.


Also, theme:

More to come, with more contradictions.

Dream made real

Dreams are nothing but hot air unless you take specific actions to bring them into reality. One can talk-talk-talk about writing, or making music, or quitting your stupid job to start organic farming, all the live long day; but in the end, few of us make the leap from talk to action.

Writing is a pretty easy jump to make in comparison - all you need is a pen and paper. I've always wanted to be a writer (though I'm not so sure anymore), and so, way back in the year 1990, I made a vow to myself to write everyday, as a concrete action to turn a dream into reality. 20 years later and I've kept to that vow (missing some days of course, but not many). I am always interested in how artists work, what tricks writers might use, or what schedules, etc. I learned a lot from Henry Miller in this regard, with his "4 hours every day" school of writing. Writing everyday is my committment to myself to continually explore my own mind for new ideas. I challenge myself in these notebooks, because I have no thought of audience, other than myself. I highly recommend this routine for anyone looking to write, or heck, think better.

So! All that for setup for this rather mundane photo of some spiral bound notebooks. They happen to be Madonna's, and they cover the early 90's. These notebooks were stolen from Madonna by an assistant who later tried to sell them, only to have to spend a great deal of time in court. Regardless, look: Madonna used the same notebook I started with in 1990! It's the blue one in the lower right column, and I remember her well (gone now, thrown out). I have since upgraded to super fancy, artsy notebooks, but I remember these spiral jobs fondly.

We are clearly entering a period in human history where paper will fall by the wayside, and while I am going along with that in some ways (this blog, for example!), in others, I hope to stick with paper - my precious notebooks - till I return to the Source. Nothing beats a beat up piece of paper covered in notes!

Proof:

 

A Dream

This is one of those dotcom wunderkid's personal library, complete with original Sputnik and top secret NASA rocket model, along with thousands of books, some with ruby encrusted bindings. Consider the effect incredibly rich yet socially retarded people will have on the world. So far, so good with old Billy Gates, it seems. Perhaps these dotcom billionaires could team up and form a league of some kind, solving crimes both high and small, and the like.

Anyways, a dream of mine would be a personal library - not so grand of course, unless we are really dreaming - like being a dotcom wunderkid. A room to close the doors, with tall ceilings and shelves to the top, and one of those delightful ladders on wheels. Some chairs, tables, lamps and smoking jackets, and I think you get the drift.

Further, anyways, apropos a theme, another dream:

I have not forgotten about you Lost! I was just offline. Don't think anything of it. However, I will report that many people I spoke with from lands far from the Internet were disappointed with the final in ways I found unfulfilling, revolving around lack of answers, but to that complaint I say, "Answers? You want answers to life's greatest mysteries from a story? Why not seek them out in your own life - such as: What is your purpose in this stupid show? Why did you have such a boring middle stretch of seasons?"

But that never works. So I just say, Internets, I missed you! Lost rules, and I love the finale more than I did a week past. It completes most of the large themes of the show in gratifying ways, connecting many elements of the story together in a cohesive tapestry, rich with characters and nuance. Or, it's deep, man.

Whatever your feelings, I am grateful for an enjoyable and engaging tale, and I hoped to have learned much from the watching but more important, contemplating. To get your audience to think about your words while they are not hearing/reading them is a wonderful place to be. It means they have personalized your story, and that is the ultimate connection in the craft. It's how stories live on. This is myth.

Namaste.

Wish you were here

I have some stress in my life - perhaps you do as well? This stress would often cause me difficulties sleeping, as my mind would race around the track of "All the things to do!".

So I searched about for solutions. No drugs though, as sleeping pills are pure evil, and except for the fun drugs, I am firmly a "Just Say No" kinda redshirt.

I tried tea, milk, curtains, sound machines, fans and fans and more fans, and nothing worked. I tried counting sheep, and I felt like that was getting me somewhere, but not far enough. And then I came upon a realization: Your brain is keeping you awake with thoughts of "All the things to do!"; if you can redirect that mental activity somewhere else, perhaps you can bypass it. This is the principle behind counting sheep, after all - the visualization of sheep jumping over a fence is mentally engaging enough to distract you from your normal thoughts, and the procession of counting more and more sheep creates a hypnotic effect whereby you are talking yourself to sleep in a gentle manner - self hypnosis of a sort.

Counting sheep simply gets boring, my mind drifts back onto the stress, and so I was dissatisfied with the technique. But the principle is sound, so I developed it - what about some kind of complex scenario that would require you to spend that limited mental activity, but also not create any new stress or drama? This last part is key.

For example, one of my early attempts at a "go-to-sleep" scenario was "What would my dream house be?" And I would try and imagine all the cool things I might have in a house if money were no object. But I found this scenario quickly led to thoughts of money, of responsibility, and those thoughts would then lead back to the "real world" of stress and anxiety and etc.

So I searched about for different scenarios, and came upon one that has worked for me for years and years now - stuck on a desert island. Please note this started BEFORE Lost. Ahem! Now, your mileage will vary, and if you try this technique, you'll have to come up with your own scenario, as each of us is unique in our way and no one specific path is necessarily meant for another.

Stuck on a deserted tropical island, with a big chest of whatever I wanted to pack in that chest. Tarps, knives, lighters, pots, fishing gear, etc. How would I drink water? What would I eat? How would I build a shelter? What about bugs? The bathroom? Etc. Endless permutations of mindless repetitions, essentially, for me, disconnected entirely from the "real world" (as in, it's highly unlikely I'd ever find myself stuck on a desert island). Counting sheep writ large, in other words.

It worked wonderfully for me, but alas, some 8 years now doing this, I've found it's gotten a bit stale. So I'm trying out some new material. If you're having any difficulty sleeping, I encourage you to give this general technique a try. Remember, the keys are it has to be quite disconnected from your "real world" so as not to lead to any stressful thoughts, and it has to be engaging in a harmless way in order to distract your brains from the habitual thoughts it wants to engage in. Maybe you could envision a great garden with all types of different plants. Or maybe imagine building a model train set to minute detail. Whatever works for you, but it might take you some time trying out different scenarios, so be patient.

To finish, in all this time, I don't recall ever once dreaming of being on a deserted tropical island, which I find exceedingly strange.

Lots O' Jaws

I suspect this will be someone's nightmare soon enough. Bon Appetit!

My America, cont.

This is my dream: A world where the Snoop Dogs and the Larry Kings of their respective communities could hang out in bright yellow convertibles, and smile.

Ain't it grand?

Real World Winnah

Fret not though, dear readers! It's all fiction! Look, here's the real guy, all happy and wearing a bold pink shirt!


But, to ponder: Is not everything we experience a fiction? That is, an artificial story constructed by an author (in this case, our brains)?

Also, given recent research into the brain, and dreaming specifically (which is, dreaming is the way the brain can more efficiently process new information, AND run through simulations of possible future situations), art as a whole serves many of the same functions: It allows us, the audience, to live through situations we may never experience, and learn from these simulations (for instance, I already know I don't want to be buried alive. No need for me to have to actually go through that process to know this).