Constant Note-taking

Ever write a Facebook status and ten minutes later decide it’s dumb and delete it? I just did that. I do it now and again.

Why? Because I get an impulse to share my brilliance but when ten whole minutes pass and no one’s had any reaction AT ALL I realize I’m essentially just posting pictures of food and take it down again.

This one was a thought about the street sweeper I saw hurry by. It didn’t seem to do much but I could see that it did prevent accumulation, and this naturally made me think about the accumulation I see in poorer neighborhoods and wonder why they don’t street-sweep there.

I can imagine why, though. The neighborhoods I’m thinking of have narrower streets that are often lined with dead cars and discarded couches and whatnot. Why bother? Can’t get to the curb anyway. Maybe the landlords get a tax break for not getting the service.

Doubt it.

Anyway. Whence the impulse to share? Why do I (we?) need to write and share so many little things? I have a theory: If we’re not both naturally outgoing and in and among a bunch of people who like to chat, a certain instinct goes unsatisfied, and these technologies allow us to compensate. Of course, it’s well known that Twitter et al. actually created a mindset that makes many such people even lonelier than ever. But that’s not my problem and doesn’t matter, I’m not talking about solutions here.But I feel I overdo it. I have two, yes TWO, completely active Facebook accounts. Sometimes I just have to cross-share. I am doing that more and more as the reasons for having an alternate fade into irrelevance. I could kill one of them but I don’t want to kill either one because they are both full of memories and pictures and things I don’t wish to lose. I was talking to my son about that and we decided the best probable way to handle it is just invite everyone from one to be friends with the other, and then stop using that one. Post nothing new there forevermore and let it fade.

Makes sense to me. Now the question is: Which one? I have to have a real-name Facebook. I’ll be looking for a job soon and then leading a new sort of post-corporate professional life. But do I really want my real-name Facebook to fill up with my weird Burner friends? Actually, that’s not a problem. Why shouldn’t I just be and share all of me? It’s not a real question. It looks like a question but is really one of the dying throes of whatever persona deep inside still needs to hide in some way. Huh. Screw that.

Well, I’m not deciding today. I’m fixing and building today, and packing soon. But I’m thinking this change, and a few others, has to happen shortly after I return. Burning Man is a sort of New Year’s, a time to be open to change, to really let change happen; and the both of us have strong feelings that this Burn will be really awesome, unbelievably good, kicking off a new life in some ways. Looking forward to it. Wish I didn’t have so much unfinished work to do.

(The bike I want to take needs its front forks lengthened, which I can do but I gotta go borrow a welder. My solar panels need frames and stands. I’ve done nothing about their connections and don’t have — may not need — a voltage regulator. My octahut is still in storage. The trike is still in pieces — today the frame should be done and can be taken to get powdercoated. Etc etc etc, I don’t have time to write it out …… )


Poking at my Phone while I Lie in Bed 

Writing slowly because that works best. 

Sunya, inches away, tries to sleep a little before we get up early to go in for her surgery. It’s not major, we hope. Should be home later in the day. 

I spent the evening in the front yard of a rented house in Davis,where we had a sort of hexayurt workshop. A hexayurt is a little house made of insulating foam. It’s a popular improvement on tents. Sunya got a friend’s some time back, and today I removed the old tape and learned how it will go together with new tape and fixed it up as much as I had time to. 

The house was rented by one of our fire performer / burlesque friends, and some of her friends were over too. The front yard was large enough for practice. The three of them and me and this other guy were the only people left when they decided to try out pasties with flammable tassels. Yes, they shook their tits to make fire go round, and about died of laughter doing it. It was really a sight when these topless women also spun fire hoops for a bit. One of them even managed to light her breast tassels with the flame on her hoop. Much hilarity. Reminders, if any are ever needed, why I love this community so much. 

I’m sleepy now. Mission accomplished.