Outlandish Josh

Cash rules everything around me, and the state of california owes me bukku on my tax return. Guess I’m getting an IOU!

Seriously, let’s cut back on the prison system and tax some oil companies or some shit. Hell, legalize grass. It’ll crater the Emerald Triangle cash economy in the long run, but this marijuana bubble can’t last forever and everyone knows it.

Plenty of radical types from both ends of the political spectrum subscribe to some form of “it’s got to get worse before it gets better” philosophy. Most of them, however, aren’t nationally televised commentators rooting for Bin Laden:

Yesterday, Glenn Beck guest and former CIA official Michael Scheuer openly hoped for a terrorist attack on the United States, saying, “the only chance we have as a country right now is for Osama bin Laden to deploy and detonate a major weapon in the United States…It’s an absurd situation again, only Osama can execute an attack which will force Americans to demand that their government protect them effectively, consistently, and with as much violence as necessary.” Beck nodded solemnly

For my part, I’d like to bracket any observations about the mobeus-like cognitive dissonance of the reactionary right-wing mind or what this kind of thing says about the modern media landscape, and actually engage the question. Having existed through an actual terrorist attack on the actual city I lived in, I think there’s really something to be said for the positive social effects.

In the six weeks or so after New York City was attacked, prior to the hardening of the National Patriotism and before the appropriation of this tragedy as causus belli became sickeningly apparent, very interesting things happened in my town. In the face of mass death, an ever-present smell of burning plastic, rifle toting solders and the specter of Anthrax spores swirling through the Subway (remember that? never solved it since it turned out not to be a-rabs…), there existed an amazing solidarity among the people.

It wasn’t unity per se; folks were all over the map. I remember seeing posters in and among the photos of the dead calling for volunteers to privately organize and launch a counterattack. Others responded with meditation circles. Non-insane people had heated (shouting) debates in public parks. And yet everyone was kind. Charity flourished, as did simple politeness. There was no crime to speak of, and people more or less looked out for one another.

This all coincided with the dot-com bust, so the economy more or less collapsed, and everyone had time on their hands. As normal patterns were disrupted, new life flourished. Art, love, friendships, community; all these things boomed in the city’s collective recognition of mortality.

I really don’t want to say that I’m glad for all that destruction — the people killed, the people (not in small number) who actually went crazy as a result, etc — but it was certainly a privilege to live through the aftermath. It’s complicated, and I don’t think the rest of Estados Unidos got anywhere near the same experience. The Pentagon is physically isolated from DC, and the reaction there was pretty different from what I hear, more suburban. Duct tape stashes and permanent concrete barricades. The rest of the country was traumatized via television — jingoistic propaganda to follow — but got none of the real effects on their actual lives. No pattern disruption or changes in habits of action. Which is too bad.

To return to the post that sparked my comment, it really seems like this other experience, the televised national trauma, and the chauvinism and fear which resulted outside the actual effected areas is what Beck (and Cheney) and their ilk long for. National Pride. They miss the aenomic sheepie leader-following and empty-headed chest thumping they conjured forth with their remote-control phantasmagoria.

And fuck that noise. Really. Your little psychodrama was a moral and strategic disaster. Please get your poser-jollies somewhere else.

For my part, I do wish we could get that kind of shock to the system, without killing people. Confronting the finite nature of life while taking a collective holiday (and being drawn into conjoint community service) for four weeks is a pretty healthy thing, and could do a lot of good in the country. Might get a bunch of people who do pointless counterproductive shit for a living to retire.

My inner scientist (enamored with thermodynamics, in thrall to patterns and cycles) really loves stuff like this:

The production of Portland cement is the third largest source of the world’s carbon dioxide. People generate 27 billion tons of carbon dioxide each year There was 2.35 billion tons of cement used in 2007 and demand is increasing at 130 million tons per year. 1.4 billion tons of cement produced and used in China is 2007. The production of cement generates 1 to 1.2 tons of CO2 per ton of cement or about 2.5 billion tons of CO2.

Calera cement is a startup funded by Vinod Khosla, technology billionaire. Calera's process takes the idea of carbon capture and storage a step forward by storing the CO2 in a useful product. For every ton of Calera cement that is made, they are sequestering half a ton of CO2. Note: this is less than original reports of sequestering one ton of CO2 per ton of Calera Cement. Still this is 75% as good. 50% is from not generating the 1 to 1.2 tons of CO2 to begin with.

Reforestation is a great thing too, but the reality is that we dug up billions of tons of shit from under the ground and burned it. We're going to need to figure out how to take that carbon and put it back into the ground safely. Making it into rock (concrete) is a good idea.

The downside is that the concrete will likely be weaker and more energy intensive to produce. Good for sidewalks and residential road-beds, but not bridges or skyscrapers. Still lots of potential.

Housekeeping note. Still trying to diagnose my spam problem, comments are back on but not posting immediately without review. I want to set up a good anonymous system, but if it proves hard may end up just implementing something to tie to your facebook/google/openID accounts. Stay tuned for details.

UPDATE: Fail. I have no time to debug the bastards right at the moment, so am going back to turning them off.

I am returned to my Redwood hideout after a harrowing run through hilly country in 99-degree weather with a failing radiator. Unlike my other theft-related automotive troubles, this has probably been an issue for some time, but obscured by the mild temperatures of coastal Norte Norte California. Still, I made it, with only one minor steam-burn and a new-found confidence in my understanding of the 22R engine’s cooling system.

Good to be back at home, and set about the task of organizing the Next Big Push. I’ve got a month before I take a little mini summer vacation to Oregon, and there’s a lot to be put in order.

On the immediate personal front, one thing for sure is I need to get back into the gym. My recent struggle with Sciatica sort of put me on a very low-impact physical schedule, but after riding a bike a little in SF last week, and discovering previously that stretching and massage were effective treatments, it feels like the kind of thing that needs to be worked through. Plus I feel the metabolic buffering around my midsection. Plus I crave the psychologically side-beneficial stress-relief that tends to come from running the robot at high rpms.

More broadly, the search for my true life’s purpose and some Gold Dust Woman continues; finding the ideal life/work balance, both in time and focus, and groping for the plot outlines of the movie of my life. While I’m momentarily overworked and looking forward to a little leisure time in the Summer sun, I know the scope of my ambitions and nature are such that I’ll never find true or lasting happiness in repose.

At the same time, as per my previous post below, the grind eventually brings out the worst in me, which tends to be the case with all of us monkeys. Arrogance and its concomitant small-minded frustrations are a quick flip-side to sustained peak performance under duress. So let’s talk about that a bit.

First of all, this is normal. It’s like anything: in order to keep your head up under non-ideal circumstance, your self-opinion hardens a bit. Unfortunately this lends itself to a big-picture-unhelpful sort of sneering, the Pride which cometh before the Fall.

This is commonly exemplified in my industry and among various practitioners of the hard arts as a sort of nerdly machismo. You get it from deep-thinking coders who’ve lost (or never learned) the patience to effectively communicate or coordinate on an organic level. You also get it from people who got rich and/or who are highly compensated for their time; this condescending certitude and impatience with the little people.

Indeed, operating as we do in a capitalist society, being paid hundreds of dollars an hour — or some other, larger multi-millionaire-making equivalent — can quickly warp ones perceptions. Think of the way a VC snaps his or her fingers in the midst of a pitch (“I get it, move on”) or the way a Producer dismisses an auditioning actor or presenting screenwriter in the first sixty seconds. These are the stereotypical behaviors of the overweening elite, and while I’m no fan of having my time wasted or wasting other people’s time, and sometimes even dare consider myself to be an elite individual, I believe the arrogant confidence that drives these kinds of action is ugly and dangerous.

Moral/aesthetic underdog-loving considerations aside, and moving beyond general maxims about the corrupting nature of power, I think it’s important to note that being inflexibly and domineeringly self-assured is nearly always counter-productive from the all important perspective of getting shit done. Winning arguments is usually a distraction, and haughty attitudes poisonous to the kind of conjoint peer-productivity that’s required for any substantial undertaking these days.

Not to mention that if you think you’re always right, you’re probably factually wrong. Even in out in the 99.9th percentile, which you have to be pretty bullish on yourself to even consider, you’re just one in a thousand. You may grow accustomed to being the proverbial Smartest Girl or Guy in the Room, but you are still wrong or misinformed or ignorant with regard to Very Many Things, nevermind our universal human impotence in the face of the myriad Unknown Unknowns which cloud around our every decision. Indeed, unless you operate in a legitimately very small world — which we of the internet by definition cannot — there are plenty of people at or beyond your level, with better (or at least different and still accurate) perspective, who are right in many of the ways that you are wrong. For the sake of the species as well as your own pet project, you’re well advised to keep that in mind.

In my experience, real wisdom is complex. It flows from intelligence and a strong grasp of axiomatic principles, leveraged into a mastery of various domains of knowledge, but also tempered with the humility of experience and driven by the honest curiosity of an innocent. One must never cease to wonder, for this is a beautiful thing.

To the contrary, the hardening of smarts into sneering certitude is a great loss. As I said, it’s generally the result of great outside pressure — think of the life of Cheney, really, the actual life; the years of paranoia, ladder-climbing, back-stabbing, skeleton-stashing… it becomes possible to have some sympathy for the man, if not his actions. Yes, life is unfair, but this sort of thing is a tragedy, one for which responsibility must be borne by the individual (or organization; groupthink being the multiparty equivalent here) in question.

The real problem in practice is that there’s quite a fine line between the kind of confidence required of real edge-pushing leadership in the world and the kind hubris which the ancient Athenians regarded as a crime. What’s more, it’s virtually impossible to discern the contours of this boundary from inside the thing. Rational perspective is rare and fleeting. Much to the chagrin of economists and engineers everywhere, all available evidence illustrates the fact that such deeply human processes are intensely and inevitably emotional, sometimes even spiritual, unquestionably subjective and mercurial.

But modern life continues to revolve around choices. All of this rambling think-chew is just prologue to the moment of decision. It’s your existence, after all, and you can do what you want. No-one is going to dignify your life for you. Some take strength from outside sources, literal leaders or role models to follow. Others take bold and risky steps on their own, eschewing tradition and offering new trails to those that come behind.

For my part I’m in the latter camp, even though I clearly don’t know (or don’t clearly know) the destination. I feel ok with this because I have good friends and faith that it’s the habits of action that add up to beliefs, and that you can approach this tangle from either end of things. Singular events — from vision quests to elections of presidents — may be the result of long and arduous struggle, but inflections points matter because they lay down new patterns. Otherwise it’s just a party. Patterns being the thing, you can get pretty far along your footpath to the revelation by repeatedly doing right and keeping an open mind. One step at a time.

Redolent with potential I walk this earth alone, seeking the key to unlocking myself, to be a king unburdened by his kingdom. For as the song says rulers make bad lovers, and only in my fully radiant and footloose flower will I ever come upon the crazy brain-sex I so richly deserve. And so I strive to standing at my full height, head up, heart open, to see the mysteries and miracles of the universe unfold.

Got my pickup back. The guys at Tech-1 are for real. That’s a bright moment, but generally I’m getting sort of run down after a long couple of weeks. Got that sandpaper face and sticky eyelids.

It’s lonely out here on the edge of the bell curve. My concept of self wants to bend towards egalitarianism, wants to hold that I’m just like anyone else, that all humans are created equal. I still believe that last bit, but we sure as hell don’t all grow up the same, and the more experience I get in life the more I realize how unequal things really turn out. Not just because everyone’s different, and not just because life ain’t fair, but really specifically (for me) because most people can’t do the things that I do.

This isn’t really a source of pride, by the way. It’s more a source of distance and uncomfortability, reminds me of my notes on becoming a class-traitor post; a growing gap coming from my deepening nerdy specialization.

It’s also frustrating being generally quicker-witted and more expertised than most of the people around you, even in your professional domain. Makes for steady disappointment, which makes for irritability, which — given a bit of meta-awareness — makes for general feelings of shame and sorrow. This is the converse of ignorance as bliss.

Closing in on friday gives some hope; old friends tomorrow, and a sweet run north on saturday. With any luck, steady smooth zamboni ice cruising to follow.

New Avett Brothers. This is the Rick Ruben shit. It’s still no Salvation Song, but I think it’ll probably blow ‘em up bigger time.

That’s me and Cheney on top of a really big stump in the community forest from the weekend. Nicelobster has a bunch of photos. Good times.

Got my car back on the road today! Last-minute run to Kragen (thx to Zack and Lizzie) got me a new battery and Moamar fires right up. Clutch is totally fucked though. Feels like some tweaker re-engineering was at work there. I’ll have that looked at tomorrow.

They also busted my home-made plexiglass triangle window, which is another bummer. But it’s good to be back behind the wheel, even if it is hella hard to shift.

I also got my cellphone to start sending text messages again, which had inexplicably (and annoyingly) stopped happening for a while. So I’ve got that going for me too. Good little run I’m putting together here maybe.

Now if I can get back out from under all my TODOs, I’ll be sitting pretty to start living a summery lifestyle. Not that I text and drive. Because that would be. Unsafe.

In no particular order:

• Spammers strike again. I suppose I should put some of my professional acumin behind solving this problem for real. For now a quick database query wipes out 1466 of the buggers. Nofollow links to follow. (Update: drumm informs me that there are security patches; I am lazy so way behind; hopefully we do better now)
• I’m getting lined up for some Vacay at the end of July. Gonna head up to oregon and see a lovely couple who hate the state get an unlikely official ceremony, see some fam, etc. Should be good.
• This week I’m down in SF for some of the old wheelin’ and dealin’. Weather is beautiful, and with a few tweaks and a little luck, I’ll be driving my pickup truck back to the HC next weekend.
• You know what’s cool? zip-lining between redwood trees.
• You know what’s not cool? Getting shot protesting a rigged election.
• And on that tip, this is nerdly facinating.
• I spent the latter part of my day here wrangling together some work details, have to get up at my earlymorning best, and unfortunately as a result am missing out on the hottest neo-vaudville show in town over at Amnesia. Sad but true.

Anyway, life is good overall. Busy busy as ever. I’ll have insightful and interesting things to say about life the universe and everything sometime soon. The sun came out this morning, and it smelled like summer (Solistice, bitches). There was a little wind, and standing on my side-porch heading out to the garage to get my bag together I stopped to listen to the wind chimes sing out their soft, random, pointless, haunting song.

Felt some strange long continuity with lazy early childhood summer days, sticking around in bed to read the biography of Willie Mays. It’s a trend. I’ve been having flashes of insight or vision, moments of stronger perspective — possibly a bit hippy-dippy — in which I am reminded of the beauty and ephemerality of this stream of moments that make up our lives. Kitchen singalongs and steamed up windows are small things, but small things are in the end what generally make us the most happy, when they’re right.

Following up on the Iranian election post, the situation there seems to be evolving. I appreciate that our leadership is staying out of it, etc. I don’t have any amazing insight except to note that in my (western) political experience, having attractive young people rally to your cause tends to help.

There’s a lot of really amazing imagery coming out, and some interesting comics, etc.

Yeah, and like, whoa: