OK. I know Einstein and singularities predictions... from a layman's perspective.
I get (almost) Heisenberg and uncertainty and Schroeder. I know quantum and gravity do not match relativity.
Maybe the problem is us.
Using the old million beach balls example, perhaps what we "see" as a singularity are different applications of values in the equations than the way things really are. Perhaps, in a multiverse of beach balls, a singularity isn't just one place or point, it's millions or more of such places or points. The massive gravity is because at that juncture we have to include ALL, or some such portion of their combined gravitational effect.
If it's gravity at all.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Watching Magnum Force
Right before the hoods shoot Otter from Animal House.
Anyway, they get an anonymous phone tip about a cop going to hit them. I never noticed, but the next scene is the hoods getting ready for the hit and discussing the appearance of the law. Everything the hoods say is correct. Had the cops come in as expected, even in suits, there’d have been no firing. The whole incident is there to vindicate Dirty Harry, and the scenes show this because he couldn’t have made the call to the hoods.
Clint was in his car.
Cell phones have changed everything. Even the way I look at the past, and older movies. PS: Check out Clint’s hair-do in “Play Misty for Me.” I bet Farrah Fawcett saw that movie before becoming an actress.
**
The beach is crap for walking during peak high tides. Only soft sand is available.
Oddly, the exposed sand at low tide is firmer than the always dry sand. It’s a great walking surface, barefoot or not.
Also, the water is warmer than one might think, especially south of the D River. A surprising volume in flow, this river has actually increased the size of its delta along the beach since June, though we’ve no rain to speak of. It eats about a quarter-mile of beach south of the bridge.
I need to spend more time along the bay, too. I like that neighborhood. So, I wonder, why am I sitting here at mid-day writing this while the sun shines and it’s a balmy 65 outside? The answer seems obvious.
**
When high tide is during prime daylight and the studio is backed up with paintings drying, there’s really not a lot to do. I clean the tools, the apartment, me – my cuticles are stained blue because of the oil paints and thinner – and take care of household business. That kills two hours.
**
On a walk inland I located a trail into Devils Lake State Park, a sort of back entrance. I’m also certain one can get into the park via the slough just a few hundred yards away, but that’s some serious swamp back in there. Too much like where I grew up to entice me into it, even if there aren’t any comparisons when it comes to bugs. Texas wins.
Anyway, they get an anonymous phone tip about a cop going to hit them. I never noticed, but the next scene is the hoods getting ready for the hit and discussing the appearance of the law. Everything the hoods say is correct. Had the cops come in as expected, even in suits, there’d have been no firing. The whole incident is there to vindicate Dirty Harry, and the scenes show this because he couldn’t have made the call to the hoods.
Clint was in his car.
Cell phones have changed everything. Even the way I look at the past, and older movies. PS: Check out Clint’s hair-do in “Play Misty for Me.” I bet Farrah Fawcett saw that movie before becoming an actress.
**
The beach is crap for walking during peak high tides. Only soft sand is available.
Oddly, the exposed sand at low tide is firmer than the always dry sand. It’s a great walking surface, barefoot or not.
Also, the water is warmer than one might think, especially south of the D River. A surprising volume in flow, this river has actually increased the size of its delta along the beach since June, though we’ve no rain to speak of. It eats about a quarter-mile of beach south of the bridge.
I need to spend more time along the bay, too. I like that neighborhood. So, I wonder, why am I sitting here at mid-day writing this while the sun shines and it’s a balmy 65 outside? The answer seems obvious.
**
When high tide is during prime daylight and the studio is backed up with paintings drying, there’s really not a lot to do. I clean the tools, the apartment, me – my cuticles are stained blue because of the oil paints and thinner – and take care of household business. That kills two hours.
**
On a walk inland I located a trail into Devils Lake State Park, a sort of back entrance. I’m also certain one can get into the park via the slough just a few hundred yards away, but that’s some serious swamp back in there. Too much like where I grew up to entice me into it, even if there aren’t any comparisons when it comes to bugs. Texas wins.
Monday, August 8, 2011
“Ya got cocaine eyes…”
I’ve been listening to a lot of oldies lately. Cocaine, the word referring to the drug, appears in at least three of them on my playlist, each of them a hit in their day, from the 70s and 80s. My how times have changed.
Here I am painting, what a handsome fellow, huh?
**
I’m up to five miles walking on the beach. I tell you what, as Hank Hill might say, walking on loose sand is hard. No, the sand’s not hard, walking on it is. If I mentioned the Swiss Army boots, I’m gonna mention them again. They were competitive with Columbia and while the Swiss Army brand has become kind of cliché, these boots made beach walking easy, easier even than being barefoot. Waterproof almost to the ankle, they keep sand out too and that’s saying something.
So much beach time has given me pause to reflect. I’ve been comparing Lincoln City and environs with other places I’ve lived, for I notice pieces of the past all around me. While not a spectacular set of vistas, or an incredible urban or rural oasis of arts and culture, or all of the above, there are certain charms to appreciate. For example:
*** San Francisco’s culture aside, its location is stunning and what makes it distinctive from other such cities that rise from blue waters (as in Greece, South America, and Australia) is the icing on the cake, as it were, the fog. Here in Lincoln City the same type of marine thermal fog envelops parts of the coast where hills turn into ocean cliffs. The fog is the same color, temperature, and texture of San Francisco’s fog, there’s just not as much of it here.
*** What makes the California coast so spectacular is the way the mountains touch the sea. Majestic views dominate Big Sur, which rise from golden hills folding into the ocean in the south and then giving way to the redwood-dotted jagged edges along the coast from Monterey northward. Here in Lincoln City we have gently rolling fir-covered hills that mostly drift into the sea, but occasionally punctuated by a cliff line ever few miles or so. It’s not magnificent as our sister state to the south boasts, but it’s a decent simulation and has beauty that is similar but distinct in its own right, too.
*** The Gulf Coast is really disappointing once a beach bum becomes accustomed to tropical islands or wild forest shorelines, mostly because of the heat, bugs, and pollution. Sorry guys, but those are some serious drawbacks. Those beaches are extremely flat, that’s true, but that means miles and miles and miles of uninterrupted beaches, most of them long enough, wide enough, and sturdy enough for mild four-wheel drive vehicles; you can drive for miles, then walk and swim for miles, then drive back. Lincoln City has a taste of that in its beaches, too, although “heat” here means 80 degrees once a year and our bugs don’t all suck the blood or bite the flesh out of you. Our beaches stretch for miles and while you can’t take your wheels for long drives along the surf, we’ve several automobile-friendly beach access and parking locales. But be warned: Light four-wheel drive (your Subaru, Jeep, or Explorer won’t cut it) is not for Lincoln City sand, do not venture from the assigned parking area.
*** Nothing compares with tropical water, though. While Lincoln City has clear green sea foam and the occasional sapphire and aquamarine blues in it it’s not tropical. But it’s clean and visibility rivals most Pacific coast shores (except for Monterey and that damn water cleaning canyon; Monterey has easily 30 feet visibility along the shoreline, better away from the city proper). It’s also warmer than Santa Cruz, if you think 60 degrees is warmer than 55 degrees.
**
Politics, return or not? I don’t know. I’m fairly angry about politics, and I know some of that anger comes from my personal life. But perhaps anger is something to run from in this case. Maybe it can motivate positive action.
I dunno. Part of me thinks an honest angry liberal who is willing to speak out is what is needed far more than the present crop of weak-willed, consensus or nothing folks who seem to dominate local party politics. What a surprise that’s my opinion, huh?
Here I am painting, what a handsome fellow, huh?
**
I’m up to five miles walking on the beach. I tell you what, as Hank Hill might say, walking on loose sand is hard. No, the sand’s not hard, walking on it is. If I mentioned the Swiss Army boots, I’m gonna mention them again. They were competitive with Columbia and while the Swiss Army brand has become kind of cliché, these boots made beach walking easy, easier even than being barefoot. Waterproof almost to the ankle, they keep sand out too and that’s saying something.
So much beach time has given me pause to reflect. I’ve been comparing Lincoln City and environs with other places I’ve lived, for I notice pieces of the past all around me. While not a spectacular set of vistas, or an incredible urban or rural oasis of arts and culture, or all of the above, there are certain charms to appreciate. For example:
*** San Francisco’s culture aside, its location is stunning and what makes it distinctive from other such cities that rise from blue waters (as in Greece, South America, and Australia) is the icing on the cake, as it were, the fog. Here in Lincoln City the same type of marine thermal fog envelops parts of the coast where hills turn into ocean cliffs. The fog is the same color, temperature, and texture of San Francisco’s fog, there’s just not as much of it here.
*** What makes the California coast so spectacular is the way the mountains touch the sea. Majestic views dominate Big Sur, which rise from golden hills folding into the ocean in the south and then giving way to the redwood-dotted jagged edges along the coast from Monterey northward. Here in Lincoln City we have gently rolling fir-covered hills that mostly drift into the sea, but occasionally punctuated by a cliff line ever few miles or so. It’s not magnificent as our sister state to the south boasts, but it’s a decent simulation and has beauty that is similar but distinct in its own right, too.
*** The Gulf Coast is really disappointing once a beach bum becomes accustomed to tropical islands or wild forest shorelines, mostly because of the heat, bugs, and pollution. Sorry guys, but those are some serious drawbacks. Those beaches are extremely flat, that’s true, but that means miles and miles and miles of uninterrupted beaches, most of them long enough, wide enough, and sturdy enough for mild four-wheel drive vehicles; you can drive for miles, then walk and swim for miles, then drive back. Lincoln City has a taste of that in its beaches, too, although “heat” here means 80 degrees once a year and our bugs don’t all suck the blood or bite the flesh out of you. Our beaches stretch for miles and while you can’t take your wheels for long drives along the surf, we’ve several automobile-friendly beach access and parking locales. But be warned: Light four-wheel drive (your Subaru, Jeep, or Explorer won’t cut it) is not for Lincoln City sand, do not venture from the assigned parking area.
*** Nothing compares with tropical water, though. While Lincoln City has clear green sea foam and the occasional sapphire and aquamarine blues in it it’s not tropical. But it’s clean and visibility rivals most Pacific coast shores (except for Monterey and that damn water cleaning canyon; Monterey has easily 30 feet visibility along the shoreline, better away from the city proper). It’s also warmer than Santa Cruz, if you think 60 degrees is warmer than 55 degrees.
**
Politics, return or not? I don’t know. I’m fairly angry about politics, and I know some of that anger comes from my personal life. But perhaps anger is something to run from in this case. Maybe it can motivate positive action.
I dunno. Part of me thinks an honest angry liberal who is willing to speak out is what is needed far more than the present crop of weak-willed, consensus or nothing folks who seem to dominate local party politics. What a surprise that’s my opinion, huh?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Solunar Walking
I missed today's best lowtide for walking. It was at 1040 or so this morning.
It's neat, yet a puzzle to me why the tidally-exposed beach sands are firmer than the light, yet not fully dry sands nearer the high tide mark. I'd think the exposed sands would be soggier, but they're firm.
Time to do some research, I guess.
The geology of the Delake beaches and their neighbors is also interesting. Underneath the sand appears to be a layer of some form of shale-like layered rock, greenish tinge when dry. This formation seems to be miles long but I've no idea how far out into the ocean or underneath the cliffs inland it extends.
Exposed jagged rocks are at a 90-degree angle in their stucture than the shale-like material. These rocks are dozens of feet out of the water in places, but mostly about 10 feet high at low tide, running perpendicular to the sand where they are exposed. These rock formations also appear to be related to beach construction somehow.
But I'm no geologist.
I tell you, driving to Portland tomorrow already has me tired.
It's neat, yet a puzzle to me why the tidally-exposed beach sands are firmer than the light, yet not fully dry sands nearer the high tide mark. I'd think the exposed sands would be soggier, but they're firm.
Time to do some research, I guess.
The geology of the Delake beaches and their neighbors is also interesting. Underneath the sand appears to be a layer of some form of shale-like layered rock, greenish tinge when dry. This formation seems to be miles long but I've no idea how far out into the ocean or underneath the cliffs inland it extends.
Exposed jagged rocks are at a 90-degree angle in their stucture than the shale-like material. These rocks are dozens of feet out of the water in places, but mostly about 10 feet high at low tide, running perpendicular to the sand where they are exposed. These rock formations also appear to be related to beach construction somehow.
But I'm no geologist.
I tell you, driving to Portland tomorrow already has me tired.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Debt Ceiling: Politics Aside for a Minute
These numbers bother us common people: Fourteen TRILLION, twenty TRILLION.
Those are round numbers centered on the debt ceiling brouhaha; more on that later. This little idea is about the numbers.
For some reason, us teetering on the brink of losing some 20 trillion doesn’t seem to affect the bond markets, or other commodity exchanges for that matter. Not significantly. Maybe if the actual default or downgrade happens it’s a different story, but It’s pretty much business as usual (Thursday, July 28, 2011 1500 PST) today.
This makes me think we common folk who get upset about 20 trillion aren’t really thinking big enough. I’d get upset if I was 20 trillion in the hole. I know my bank would. I was only 100K down and look what happened to me!
Yet here we are and there’s no collapse started, no blinking of financial eyes yet.
Over a 20 year period, let’s say, we find a way to repay our debts. Countries aren’t like people. If we can repay even 10 percent of what we owe we can save ourselves dozens, if not hundreds of billions each year. Plus, countries tend to outlive people, so 300 in country years is what, 25 or so in people years?
I think a longer-term, larger-scale view of the economy is needed, and a different method than we presently use for the country to apply that economy.
And it seems like major powers must share at least a longer-term outlook, too, because they aren’t that all upset with us yet. Since sentiment has nothing to do with it, I can only conclude they think 20 trillion from us is a small blurb.
Those are round numbers centered on the debt ceiling brouhaha; more on that later. This little idea is about the numbers.
For some reason, us teetering on the brink of losing some 20 trillion doesn’t seem to affect the bond markets, or other commodity exchanges for that matter. Not significantly. Maybe if the actual default or downgrade happens it’s a different story, but It’s pretty much business as usual (Thursday, July 28, 2011 1500 PST) today.
This makes me think we common folk who get upset about 20 trillion aren’t really thinking big enough. I’d get upset if I was 20 trillion in the hole. I know my bank would. I was only 100K down and look what happened to me!
Yet here we are and there’s no collapse started, no blinking of financial eyes yet.
Over a 20 year period, let’s say, we find a way to repay our debts. Countries aren’t like people. If we can repay even 10 percent of what we owe we can save ourselves dozens, if not hundreds of billions each year. Plus, countries tend to outlive people, so 300 in country years is what, 25 or so in people years?
I think a longer-term, larger-scale view of the economy is needed, and a different method than we presently use for the country to apply that economy.
And it seems like major powers must share at least a longer-term outlook, too, because they aren’t that all upset with us yet. Since sentiment has nothing to do with it, I can only conclude they think 20 trillion from us is a small blurb.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Quantum Solace It's Not
So, WAY back to an earlier theme from the Laurelhurst Park days… physics.
The quantum world, if I understand it correctly, has comparable distances between particles/waves as we find in cosmology. While it’s not light years from the neutron to the electron, if you or I could be reduced to a size such that we’d stand on the “surface” of the particle as we stand on earth, it would seem like light years to our atomic selves.
That’s boggling, at least to me.
Further, if I understand it even halfway correctly, movement isn’t really something that’s detectable within the quantum world. We can see particles whizz by at near light speeds in particle accelerators, but from the particles’ points of view nothing is happening. They are stone cold stopped, for all their practical purposes.
This particular dichotomy to me raises a very interesting question about consciousness. The quantum world is never-changing to the quantum world residents.
Reality there is a rigid, fixed, constant grid of unchanging structure. Whether the particle is free-floating, inside a large piece of granite or small grain of sand, or part of our neural net that allows thought, its existence remains unchanging, unless the particle is obliterated entirely.
As we are composed of these particles, and by we I mean you and I and anyone or anything that can think or is otherwise alive, what does this really say about what kind of beings we are? Truly, there is no fundamental difference between us and any other form of matter, especially at the most basic level, the subatomic.
Whatever it is that happens to cause life somehow blends the quantum and relative paradox with astonishing ease, it seems. By ease I don’t mean like an intelligent designer, I mean that this blending takes place without serious amounts of energy being required. I’d reckon offhand that we ought to be nothing but gigantic atomic bombs, every living cell, when you get down to how quantum and relative are pounded together in us.
**
Speaking of consciousness, Amy Winehouse passed, found her on the flo, flo, flo (play on words from her “Rehab” song). 27, the infamous rock and roll rebel spirit dies now age, she joins a long list of famous addicts who passed at the same age. I dunno, but it seems to me that an addictive personality might do better without fame, glory, superficial attention, and unlimited funds. Then again, I’m an addictive personality and I’ve had none of that and look at me… so scratch that thought.
I guess it doesn’t matter. We play the cards we’re dealt, and sometimes we misplay a hand or two without realizing we just made critical errors of judgment.
**
Grandson is spending the week, camping on the computer and in front of the television and his video game box. I can probably get him a job tending to mowing and stuff for the next month. It’s kinda like having a roommate. I told him that yes I’m grandfather and still in charge but because he’s older and I’m no longer married it seems more like being back in college to me than anything else.
And then I made him clean the kitchen.
But it does feel awkward and comfortable and familiar. A month is about all I could handle, though.
He loves the studio and has run through most of the canvas I bought for him. Must be fun, I try to imagine as impartially as possible, to get away from three much younger siblings and pretty much do what he wants within reason. Especially exploring a creative side without pressure but with full support and guidance on request.
We had a raccoon on the porch last night while he was up playing one of the shooter games, Bioshock 2 or 3 I think. It was standing by the glass doors staring in, for all intents and purposes watching him play the damn game. I think the coon was mesmerized because the kid was doing something with his hands -- the controls. Racoons use their hands and it wouldn't surprise me to find they equate that with food, so my guess is Rocky was trying to figure out what the kid was eating.
He said he’d seen another coon and three cubs the first morning at dawn. We also encountered a doe and two fawns on our walk to the lake.
Need to get the older other kids here, too, just for the wildlife encounters and viewing. But not for a week at a time…
**
Went down to Radio Shack with D and we looked at the firearms. It’s not your usual RadShak. “All Glocks On Sale” say the signs outside.
And a nice little selection of handguns they have, small but a thorough walk through calibers tiny to tall. Several .22 and .32 semiauto handguns prompted a discussion between the kid and me about their overall defensive and offensive values. He showed me he knows more than I thought when we were comparing a .45 1911-type Remington Arms roscoe with the Glock 17 9mm. Not an expert, but he’s studied at least a little bit, as he knew the .45 had been the major US Army handgun for almost ever but the Glock had a never-run-out-of-bullets clip.
Then on the walk home we came across two fawns on their own, right in someone’s front yard. Mom HAD to be around somewhere, but we were about 10 feet from them. Those EYES! We both felt guilty even thinking about guns around the fawns. Run Bambi! LOL!
The quantum world, if I understand it correctly, has comparable distances between particles/waves as we find in cosmology. While it’s not light years from the neutron to the electron, if you or I could be reduced to a size such that we’d stand on the “surface” of the particle as we stand on earth, it would seem like light years to our atomic selves.
That’s boggling, at least to me.
Further, if I understand it even halfway correctly, movement isn’t really something that’s detectable within the quantum world. We can see particles whizz by at near light speeds in particle accelerators, but from the particles’ points of view nothing is happening. They are stone cold stopped, for all their practical purposes.
This particular dichotomy to me raises a very interesting question about consciousness. The quantum world is never-changing to the quantum world residents.
Reality there is a rigid, fixed, constant grid of unchanging structure. Whether the particle is free-floating, inside a large piece of granite or small grain of sand, or part of our neural net that allows thought, its existence remains unchanging, unless the particle is obliterated entirely.
As we are composed of these particles, and by we I mean you and I and anyone or anything that can think or is otherwise alive, what does this really say about what kind of beings we are? Truly, there is no fundamental difference between us and any other form of matter, especially at the most basic level, the subatomic.
Whatever it is that happens to cause life somehow blends the quantum and relative paradox with astonishing ease, it seems. By ease I don’t mean like an intelligent designer, I mean that this blending takes place without serious amounts of energy being required. I’d reckon offhand that we ought to be nothing but gigantic atomic bombs, every living cell, when you get down to how quantum and relative are pounded together in us.
**
Speaking of consciousness, Amy Winehouse passed, found her on the flo, flo, flo (play on words from her “Rehab” song). 27, the infamous rock and roll rebel spirit dies now age, she joins a long list of famous addicts who passed at the same age. I dunno, but it seems to me that an addictive personality might do better without fame, glory, superficial attention, and unlimited funds. Then again, I’m an addictive personality and I’ve had none of that and look at me… so scratch that thought.
I guess it doesn’t matter. We play the cards we’re dealt, and sometimes we misplay a hand or two without realizing we just made critical errors of judgment.
**
Grandson is spending the week, camping on the computer and in front of the television and his video game box. I can probably get him a job tending to mowing and stuff for the next month. It’s kinda like having a roommate. I told him that yes I’m grandfather and still in charge but because he’s older and I’m no longer married it seems more like being back in college to me than anything else.
And then I made him clean the kitchen.
But it does feel awkward and comfortable and familiar. A month is about all I could handle, though.
He loves the studio and has run through most of the canvas I bought for him. Must be fun, I try to imagine as impartially as possible, to get away from three much younger siblings and pretty much do what he wants within reason. Especially exploring a creative side without pressure but with full support and guidance on request.
We had a raccoon on the porch last night while he was up playing one of the shooter games, Bioshock 2 or 3 I think. It was standing by the glass doors staring in, for all intents and purposes watching him play the damn game. I think the coon was mesmerized because the kid was doing something with his hands -- the controls. Racoons use their hands and it wouldn't surprise me to find they equate that with food, so my guess is Rocky was trying to figure out what the kid was eating.
He said he’d seen another coon and three cubs the first morning at dawn. We also encountered a doe and two fawns on our walk to the lake.
Need to get the older other kids here, too, just for the wildlife encounters and viewing. But not for a week at a time…
**
Went down to Radio Shack with D and we looked at the firearms. It’s not your usual RadShak. “All Glocks On Sale” say the signs outside.
And a nice little selection of handguns they have, small but a thorough walk through calibers tiny to tall. Several .22 and .32 semiauto handguns prompted a discussion between the kid and me about their overall defensive and offensive values. He showed me he knows more than I thought when we were comparing a .45 1911-type Remington Arms roscoe with the Glock 17 9mm. Not an expert, but he’s studied at least a little bit, as he knew the .45 had been the major US Army handgun for almost ever but the Glock had a never-run-out-of-bullets clip.
Then on the walk home we came across two fawns on their own, right in someone’s front yard. Mom HAD to be around somewhere, but we were about 10 feet from them. Those EYES! We both felt guilty even thinking about guns around the fawns. Run Bambi! LOL!
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Yes, I've Been Busy Doing Nothing
D came to visit for a few days and had a blast, I think. We even did a two-mile walk and beachcomb in the light cold rain. He had to be either bored to tears or having fun for that. Oh, and I paid him five bucks per mile. It worked, he had fun and almost forgot about the money. Almost.
Speaking of money, my dear friend in early sobriety Ingrid introduced me to this concept, one of "AA money" as she used to call it. If we're trying our best to do good by ourselves and others we can make it through periods of financial instability she said, often without realising it. Occasionally, just as we need it most and least expect it, a check from a refund or some other form of capital will appear, usually a modest amount but sufficient for the need at hand.
Since she pointed it out to me those years ago I've noted many times in my life the appearance of "AA money," an otherwise out-of-the-blue bit of fortune. I got some recently myself and was able to stock up on the needed art supplies to make it through winter. So, I got to have my party cake and eat it too after all, regarding the whole move and new career here in Devil's Lake.
I will have to come up with the funds to get canvases stretched, though. I've figured out how to use the raw material properly but it's kinda of inconvenient; I'll explain it at Picasso Lowbrow later.
The mating pair of ospreys sure are magnificent and beautiful when they perch in the dead white tree outside. Larger than falcons, not quite as big as the occasional bald eagles that come by, the ospreys are by far more bold and bright in color and style. Mom and Bambi walked by the back door last week, a very healthy doe and fawn. Mom was FAT. I'm not kidding, a fat deer. I snuck up on a doe down by the canal yesterday, got my face within 5 feet of her face by sneaking around a bush. I snuck up on a deer and got five feet away. I was walking on asphalt. These deer are NOT wild.
I've met a few of my human neighbors, too. The best way to describe this town seems to be that of retired white blue collar folk. There's a younger and local set of demographics, sure, and not everyone is retired or blue collar. But that would be the safe generalization, I think, ignoring political feelings or beliefs and just looking at the numbers.
The beach, north and south of D River, is becoming familiar though it changes constantly. There was an incredible low tide with a southern wind and rain this week, pushing the surf line out an extra 100 yards from a regular low tide. Truly, the water had dropped six solid feet in depth but it was still shallow out to the edge of the continental shelf, it seems. A lot of sand, I bet it's all from the Columbia over eons.
**
About the sex history... before starting, let's remember the context is what should I be telling, if anything, to my grandkids about sex. Going through one's life history of sex seems to me to be a proper step any adult should take before deciding how to answer questions about the birds and bees the younger ones -- or even our peers -- might ask.
I was in the Navy, about to marry Melissa. I'll bring it up there next time.
**
Speaking of that time and these folks, the name of the groupie I mentioned was Laura. Kip knows better than most we weren't a band, we didn't really have groupies, and I hope I didn't seem like I alluding to some stardom or power, for I can assure you I had neither. But, Laura did hang out with us because of the music and the other stuff, like fill in the blanks: Sex, _____, and Rock and Roll. But people DID throw popcorn at me when I played bass, didn't they Kip? LOL!!!
Last I heard Jack of the famous Texas Knights was making and selling silver cowboy jewelry and hardware somewhere around Kerrville, I believe.
**
The painting is fun, I'm learning a lot. I just ordered the new camera battery charger, along with a gallon of my favorite oils, all from Amazon. So, maybe by Aug. 1 I'll have a gallery to show here online.
Speaking of money, my dear friend in early sobriety Ingrid introduced me to this concept, one of "AA money" as she used to call it. If we're trying our best to do good by ourselves and others we can make it through periods of financial instability she said, often without realising it. Occasionally, just as we need it most and least expect it, a check from a refund or some other form of capital will appear, usually a modest amount but sufficient for the need at hand.
Since she pointed it out to me those years ago I've noted many times in my life the appearance of "AA money," an otherwise out-of-the-blue bit of fortune. I got some recently myself and was able to stock up on the needed art supplies to make it through winter. So, I got to have my party cake and eat it too after all, regarding the whole move and new career here in Devil's Lake.
I will have to come up with the funds to get canvases stretched, though. I've figured out how to use the raw material properly but it's kinda of inconvenient; I'll explain it at Picasso Lowbrow later.
The mating pair of ospreys sure are magnificent and beautiful when they perch in the dead white tree outside. Larger than falcons, not quite as big as the occasional bald eagles that come by, the ospreys are by far more bold and bright in color and style. Mom and Bambi walked by the back door last week, a very healthy doe and fawn. Mom was FAT. I'm not kidding, a fat deer. I snuck up on a doe down by the canal yesterday, got my face within 5 feet of her face by sneaking around a bush. I snuck up on a deer and got five feet away. I was walking on asphalt. These deer are NOT wild.
I've met a few of my human neighbors, too. The best way to describe this town seems to be that of retired white blue collar folk. There's a younger and local set of demographics, sure, and not everyone is retired or blue collar. But that would be the safe generalization, I think, ignoring political feelings or beliefs and just looking at the numbers.
The beach, north and south of D River, is becoming familiar though it changes constantly. There was an incredible low tide with a southern wind and rain this week, pushing the surf line out an extra 100 yards from a regular low tide. Truly, the water had dropped six solid feet in depth but it was still shallow out to the edge of the continental shelf, it seems. A lot of sand, I bet it's all from the Columbia over eons.
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About the sex history... before starting, let's remember the context is what should I be telling, if anything, to my grandkids about sex. Going through one's life history of sex seems to me to be a proper step any adult should take before deciding how to answer questions about the birds and bees the younger ones -- or even our peers -- might ask.
I was in the Navy, about to marry Melissa. I'll bring it up there next time.
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Speaking of that time and these folks, the name of the groupie I mentioned was Laura. Kip knows better than most we weren't a band, we didn't really have groupies, and I hope I didn't seem like I alluding to some stardom or power, for I can assure you I had neither. But, Laura did hang out with us because of the music and the other stuff, like fill in the blanks: Sex, _____, and Rock and Roll. But people DID throw popcorn at me when I played bass, didn't they Kip? LOL!!!
Last I heard Jack of the famous Texas Knights was making and selling silver cowboy jewelry and hardware somewhere around Kerrville, I believe.
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The painting is fun, I'm learning a lot. I just ordered the new camera battery charger, along with a gallon of my favorite oils, all from Amazon. So, maybe by Aug. 1 I'll have a gallery to show here online.
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