Last Night in Civilization

Tomorrow morning, I get on a turbo prop and fly into the bush for eight weeks. The internet is apparently not yet installed, but the camp functions. Thus, in addition to being my last night of freedom, it may also be the last time I get on the internet for a long time. When planning a long hitch in a camp, the last night seems like it should be a night of letting go of hassle, and enjoying yourself. It never is.

Tonight, I worked on the database and the core logs with Kati and Scott, which was actually nice. I like being a part of the process, rather than just a well paid babysitter. After that, I spoke with the parents, then packed, then took care of bills, not the glamorous celebration I was wanting. It has been great though, because Cameron went to Transformers 3, giving me some peace and quiet in my room

Musical Rewards

The other night, I watched all of my possessions, saving what I will need for the next three months, wrapped in brown paper, and loaded into an ocean going container. Not the container they will be moved across the ocean on, but it was still meaningful to me to see them loaded into an ocean going container. I have not felt at home in over a year now, there were three weeks in Vancouver when I almost felt at home, but I was not surrounded by my stuff, so it was like a vacation home. The idea with moving is that you are finding a new home though, so this should be happy, and it is.

To celebrate this step into the uncertainty of the future, and moving on with my life, I decided to reward myself with a little retail therapy. I have been listening to NPR's All Songs Considered, so it seemed like buying an album or two from my page of "bands to check-out" would be a good choice. For the most part thus far in my search, the song that was played on All Songs Considered is good (I need to apologize to myself for a couple), and might be worth money. The problem is, that the bands that catch my ears are those that sound different from the others, unfortunately, different is usually rubbish.

There is a reason why pop is pop, it sounds vaguely appealing to most people. The generic sound of it is so blah to me though. If I want to hear another Jack Johnson, I can just listen to Jack Johnson, I would not be any wiser. If I wanted to listen to auto-tuned crap, it really does not matter what no talent fad idol is cranking it out, I, and everybody else, will forget their name by next year. The search for something new is really what led me to All Songs Considered, but my wallet demands that it be good, in addition to new.

I do not know what is good though. I did buy Bon Iver: Bon Iver. I am sticking with it not being as good as For Emma, but I am not ruling out some emotional attachment with time. I was accused of not being fair to expect Justin Vernon to always be down trodden, which was not my point, because Blood Bank is a much more positive experience, but a beautiful lyrical journey, like For Emma (though Blood Bank definitely stands out as the best song on the EP). I digress from what is good though. I like a broad spectrum of music, and I use music differently based on my, and its, mood. I like indie rock (what ever that really means), I like folk and rap when there are actual musical instruments backing up lyrics that are meaningful. I can also like songs that are just fun. Cee Lo Green's Fuck You is not meaningful, or artistic, but something about a song that sounds so much like good natured '50s pop capturing how you really feel when you see the person you lust for with someone else (for me, all the imagery in the world does not ring quite as true as "fuck you, and fuck her too"). My musical interests just do not seem to follow strict genre definitions, but that should not really be a surprise to me.

Finding a good album is proving more a difficult task, than the celebration I was looking for. I wanted instant gratification. I wanted to be inundated by every artist on my list having three great albums, and I would over indulge on new music. I am not being tempted though, I am, in fact, conflicted about if I should buy anything at all.

Maybe, the problem is me. I resist buying single songs. I want an album. I want my iTunes (yes I use iTunes, a good post might be my feelings about this, but not today) library to be filled with full albums that are full of great songs, that have been created and produced by master musicians with expert producers and engineers. Maybe though, the album is dead. When a single great song can catapult a musician's name into the lime light, why take the time to create an artistic album? Make one great song, and ride the wave it creates as best you can. If the great song does not work, you did not really loose anything with the 9 other stinkers you churned out to fill a CD. I am not going to rant or discuss whether or not this is a good thing, to me it just is. My query lies in what I should do about it.

Like texting, it seems like I should accept the change. Once I was able to text with a qwerty keyboard, it became a great way to communicate short messages with people I do not necessarily want to talk to (everyone). Once I accept that having single songs in my iTunes library is okay, I can buy the song that I like, guilt free, and incorporate it into playlists that I enjoy. I have a playlist to fire me up before riding, Sarah has playlists for runs of various lengths, I could make playlists for moods. Group the fun songs for when I feel playful, and dark songs for doldrums. All I have to do is buy songs that I like, then lump them into groups that please me. I will not, after all, have to change discs.

I imagine that I will break down, soon. Maybe it will be Cee Lo Green who breaks me. For now, I might occupy myself with Random Recipe (the highest rank thus far on my quest), or just keep searching. In the future though, when I need a reward for making progress in life, I will probably stick with gear, food or shoes.

Finally Traveling, Almost

I made travel arrangements to go to Anchorage on the 27th to work in the Western Alaska Range. Tomorrow the movers come for my relocation to New Zealand, and I vacate my storage unit. The final piece of the puzzle is my visa. Regardless of the visa, I begin the end of my year of moving in a week, and this blog may start to include updates about my life, and travel.

This field season should be fantastic. In talking to people about the project, the work is interesting, the project is relatively young, and the terrain is phenomenal. Obviously, there is always a concern about the people one will be spending 8 weeks in a tiny camp with. My concern about this project specifically is the safety. Not that this will be unsafe, but last year a geologist was attacked by a bear, and now they are arming the staff. Nothing strikes me as more unsafe than armed humans who are afraid of something. Working in pairs prevents most bear attacks, carrying firearms prevents almost none. Bees, as with any time spent in the woods, are my biggest concern when it comes to animals. Even with all of those concerns, I am very hopeful that this will be a great summer and a great experience in a beautiful location.

Having the movers coming for my possessions is thrilling. My life has been pretty stagnant waiting for these pieces to come into place, and they finally are! I cannot help but daydream about life in New Zealand, and the new people and places that will come into my life. Those events will be updated here, hopefully, making this blog a fun mix of travel, personal experience, and the ever present brian rant.

Hiking

I have not been hiking in a very long time, and I do not know if I will ever go for one again. This is not me making a life changing decision that I do not want to be in nature, but rather an issue of rhetoric. To hike is to walk a long distance, it can be for a variety of reasons, and it does not have to be in "nature." If you do not not concur with me on this, you can check it out for yourself on Dictionary.com (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hiking), where they define it as walking a "great distance," which I think is farther than my "long distance."

The problem I have is that it seems like walking for recreation on a natural surface has become hiking. It is irrespective of distance, difficulty or actual presence of nature. If your feet are on dirt, and you can see a tree, then it is "hiking," and I am pulling the bullshit card. That activity is walking.

Hiking requires distance. The threshold to determine a hike is tricky. If, you are carrying your gear on your back, and intend to overnight, then you are backpacking. The mode of transport might be hiking, but it is probably still walking. I argue, that a hike is of a distance that someone who commonly engages in the activity would regard it as a great distance. That is, a group of "hikers" would regard the distance as great. Thus, if a person does not commonly walk, they probably cannot hike. If a person commonly hikes, then most of what they do will be walking. Assigning a number to this is challenging, it is certainly a marathon, but might have to be an ultra-marathon. Obviously, terrain does matter, a flat fifty miles would not be as impressive as a marathon that traverses a mountain range. Regardless, if I am going to travel these distances, I will probably run or ride my bike. Because of this, I do not see many hikes in my future.

Getting Better

For a while I have been bothered by the It Gets Better Project. I like the idea, telling people in a difficult place that it gets better. I think the problem for me, like Kevin Spacey in American Beauty, is that I do not want to lie.

Life does get better from those difficult days of adolescence, but it does not just get better, you make choices that make it better. The trick is that new pain and new problems come along. You develop coping skills, or do not, but life changes and evolves. Old problems fade, new ones come along.

The New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/23/us/23out.html) has compiled stories about coming out. About facing the pain of the unknown, and how different people, mostly teens, have dealt with it. They are far more inspirational, far more powerful and meaningful than people who have found something, reminiscing on the pain of the past. These stories should not just be read by those looking for hope while mired in the trials of their lives, but by everyone.

Bon Iver

I just read a piece about Justin Vernon of Bon Iver (http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2011/jun/09/bon-iver-justin-vernon-interview) that I found interesting. First, the author said they were sitting in a basement studio with a view of something, Midlands, I don't remember. Is a basement studio a type of studio, or is that statement as ridiculous as it sounds? If I describe a basement, I don't describe the view. If a basement has a view, then it doesn't seem like a basement. That is neither here nor there.

What I found most interesting is that Justin said that a lot of people identify with Re: Stacks, but he responds most to Flume. I am not sure which song speaks to me the most, but it certainly isn't Re: Stacks. I like Skinny Love because I can make out some of the words enough to kind of sing it, and the lyrics I do understand make me think, "I've been there, I've looked at the end of love hanging by a thread, and dreaded the thought of undoing everything that we have made. If we just make it a little longer, if we can just make it to the end of the year..." I don't know if that is what he is talking about, but that is what my interpretation is.

Anyway, what really struck me about his statement is that no song on the album hits me. When I heard a Bon Iver song, I thought, "This Bon Eye-ver dude sounds pretty good, I wonder what his other stuff is like." But it wasn't really good enough for me to track it down, and buy it (I'm trying to do that more, because I do miss out on a lot of good music out of laziness and penny pinching). Then Sarah played the record, and I heard the whole album. The strength of For Emma is in the album, not in its component songs Flume comes on and I am immediately transported into a world of my emotions. That seems like it would be a powerful response, but Lump Sum puts me in my apartment on Pandora Street. An aptly named street because of the place that it is in my emotional life, once that opens, it is hard for me to close it. Then Skinny Love, which captures losing love better than the "greatest" musicians have even begun to broach. Paul Simon belts out the loss of love as if the emotions spew forth in a froth of power like a rapids or and explosion. Maybe everyone can see you're blown apart, but the emotions have always caught in my throat, crushing me from the inside.

The album peaks (troughs?) with Skinny love. The Wolves is a reprieve. A moment of introspection on the tumultuous torture of my emotional darkness. Blindsided really does feel like being blindsided, when your lover, friend or life checks out on you. When they decide flight over fight, and in an instant they are gone. Creature Fear gives me a chance to reflect, but stirs up fear when the chorus crescendos towards something horrible, frightful. The drums spilling from Creature Fear into Team are the anger and panic I feel when trapped in the darkness of my mind. These songs aren't building to anything. They are holding me down, holding me in, making me look into my own darkness. At the end of this cold embrace is the whistling finish of Team that feels almost as if I am being taunted, it is reminiscent of a school yard gaggle of tormentors, capturing the powerless feeling of battling emotions.

For me, For Emma is almost hopeful. Is that a rocket taking me to a better place? I still feel raw, but I am being lifted from the darkness. Not to happiness, but away from fear and loathing. Stacks might speak to a lot of people because it almost feels reminiscent of something lost, something that was good, but is now gone. I think of my oldest loves. I think of the happiness and joy of being in love with them, and I am moving on. I can think of the good, without dwelling in the darkness of loss.

Wisconsin doesn't do anything for me. It is a bonus I would almost rather have not received. To me, it breaks the emotional story of the repeating pain that is life. To me, listening to Wisconsin is like listening to Vernon piss and moan about something that I don't have any prior knowledge of. It is like a friend of a friend, drunk and bitching at your party. I want nothing to do with it, and most of the time it is unchecked in my iTunes.

This makes for the longest review of a four year old album I have ever written. The point is that Vernon doesn't talk about the album as a journey for the listener, and that is what I have always thought of it. Even before so many emotions were tied up in those songs for me, the first time I heard the album, I was blown away. It was new and intriguing. The sounds were so provocative and spoke so deeply to me, I had to listen to it again and again. It spoke to me without words, which few songs do. The lyrics weren't necessarily a message in themselves, but were part of the journey.

On 21 June, his second, self titled album will be released. You can listen to it now on NPR: http://www.npr.org/2011/06/09/136855313/first-listen-bon-iver-bon-iver?ps=mh_frhdl3. It is good. It seems more dysfunctional than the first, in a positive way. As Vernon says in the Guardian piece, "I want that," and now he gets that, more like Kanye. But sometimes less is more.

The second album would be a terrible thing to release as a musician, I think. Everyone will compare it to the first. Will it be better or worse. Have you out done yourself, gotten better, or was one all you could really do. Unfortunately, I have to do the same thing. It is not as good as For Emma.

For Emma captured me in the sound. It had the element of surprise. I had never heard anything like that before. It spoke to me, the sounds found emotions in me that I usually do not explore. Then, I became emotionally attached. Bon Iver: Bon Iver is getting better with each listen, and I will definitely buy it when it comes out. Some of its shortcomings might be me. I'm not in a place to become as emotionally attached. Maybe I was in a similar place to Vernon when he wrote For Emma, and now we are in different places. However, it also seems like he is reaching for something, searching for what he wants to be musically (something I said before reading the Guardian article). Maybe I will associate these songs with searching for something more in life. Maybe, eventually, Bon Iver: Bon Iver will speak to me, and outlast For Emma. For now, for whatever reason, Bon Iver: Bon Iver seems like a good (great even) listen, but it is not For Emma.

Wrath of God: Letter to Editor, Everett Herald

I just sent my first letter to the editor to the Everett Herald. In all honesty, I have sent letters to the editor in the past, but those were to thank donors to high school fund raises. Thus, this is my first issue oriented letter to the editor. The letter is pasted below, and I will add links/updates if the letter is published.

In the wake of recent natural disasters that have caused seemingly endless tragedy, lessons can be learned about preparedness and the need for social programs. Conversely, simple mindedness can dodge the need to make sacrifices, and these events can be described, quite literally, as acts of God. I can think of no natural disaster that better mimics the wrath of god than a tornado. These, if I interpret the mythology, would be a god's guided missiles, and no place on Earth is more battered than the American Bible Belt. If a deity were angry at a large group of people, it would probably use a hurricane (typhoon or cyclone). It seems that the American Southeast is hit most devastatingly by this type of storm. It seems unnecessary to mention the obvious parallels between religion and floods, which have plagued the states along the Mississippi River. However, it seems that Earthquakes and volcanism might be the work of Satan (coming from within the Earth, rather than the heavens), targeting God's chosen people (e.g. West Coast US, Japan, New Zealand and Iceland). Maybe, Americans need to stop listening to people who seem to have angered their own God, stop wasteful government spending on tax cuts for the wealthy, accept anthropogenic global climate change, and start funding science, education, social programs and infrastructure improvements (including satellites for weather prediction).

Retired Rope Rug

I've been carting around my first climbing rope for several years now. While I am certain it could catch a fall, there is no reason to keep using a rope that has been / should be retired. At the same time, it seemed wasteful to get rid of a beautiful rope, not to mention the fact that I had some sentimental attachment to it.

I remember buying that rope. I didn't know enough about ropes to choose wisely, so I asked another climber. He was brand loyal to Mammut, so I bought a 10.2mm 60 m rope. It was tan, blue and red. It really wasn't the best rope for me, but I remember how exciting it was to get my rope. I also bought nine quick draw sets, 30' of webbing and four lockers. I could climb without others. That rope was the freedom to climb when and where I wanted. Five years later, it was time to say goodbye.

I coiled the rope, which over those five years had acquired the name "Mr. Happy Pants," and put him in the closet. Mr. Happy Pants sat in the closet at my house, then at my apartment, then at my next house, then in a storage shed, then at my next apartment, and then at another storage shed. The list is probably longer than that, but the point is made. He sat, unused, taking up space, and adding to the weight of moving trucks. Somewhere early in that list, I decided that Mr. Happy Pants should be a rug.

My original idea was to coil him tightly, then use a needle and thread to tie the coils together. Since I did not know how to sew (other than some very poorly affixed patches on jeans), that seemed like an enormous undertaking. An article in Climbing Magazine suggested coiling the rope, then caulking the back together, than duct taping the caulk. I bought the caulk, but this seemed like not an ideal rug. Who wants a rug made out of silicon and duct tape? Years passed, and a friend, facing a similar dilemma found this Super Topo post: http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.php?topic_id=298197. Thank you Crag Q, you inspired a friend to weave a rug that would eventually inspire me to do the same.

After another year of moves and procrastination, I decided it was time. I ran into an issue straight away. Crag Q says to print out a pattern on a large format printer. Going to Kinkos to have this done was enough to put Mr. Happy Pants back in the closet, but Crag Q says the pattern can be traced by hand. His pattern is something like 16x19 inches, yet he says to trace out a 2" grid. A two inch grid gives you a 26 inch pattern, and I didn't have paper that size. So, I set about eyeballing it.

I allowed for three inches per intersection, planning on a four pass rug. Using masking tape to tack Mr. Happy Pants to the floor, I set out making the initial knot. It went surprisingly fast, but it wasn't square. It wasn't even close to square. After the first pass, I had created something ovoid with a corner. Undaunted, I carried on, with the hope that the second pass would add some rigidity, at which point I could force the shape. With each pass, the shape became more square.

After the third pass, the grid needed to be tightened up, and made more regular. This was the hardest step thus far. Each weave had to be pulled tighter, then the slack pulled through the rest of the weave. Tightening took about as long as the entire process to that point. While it was impossibly slow, it paid off, and something that looked much like a rug was born. It was time to start the fourth pass.

For the fourth pass, the weave was very tight, making the going slow. In addition, each pull required the full length of the remaining rope to be pulled through. On passes two and three this was also true (starting in the middle seemed like a bit much to eyeball), but I could pull the rope a full row of weaves (the entire width of the rug). On the fourth pass, the weaves were so tight pulling it through was creating enough friction to melt the sheath. I cut back to three weaves, then two weaves, then one. The process was painfully slow, and required a tool (a pen) to spread the weaves enough to feed the rope through. After spending almost as much time on the fourth pass as I did on all of the previous steps, only one step remained.

With this pattern it seems everyone wonders what to do with the ends. I decided to weave the ends once more, then cut the ends and melt them. The friction in the four pass rug seems like enough to not back out, and the large melted rope end probably will not fit through the weaves if it does. Pushing the slack back through the weave should only take a minute if slack forms at the ends. With the ends woven in, cut and melted, Mr. Happy Pants is now a rug.

When I do this again, I will probably stick with a three pass. I think if one were clever, they could get a three pass and a two pass out of one rope. The two pass would probably be nicer for low traffic, high dirt locations, and the three pass for the inverse. Those who have climbed a long time / fall a lot will likely have many ropes, and a three pass rug seems like it would make a lovely gift for the non-climbers in your life. That will be the fate of Mr. Happy Pants anyway. My vagrant lifestyle does not require rugs, so this rug will be part of a thank you gift to my brother and sister-in-law for letting me stay in their spare room for what will cumulatively be months.

More images available here: https://picasaweb.google.com/aillaud/RopeRug#