shave

shave

hey, be glad i left my eyebrows.

i made a video.  i call it prime-time douche-baggery.  double-time!  or something.

the pain is specific, shooting pain right behind my right shoulder blade, close to the spine.  ow. 10:15 pm.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holmium

11:25 AM, next day.  translated the Japanese symbol i now use as my name.  it translated asHo”  I laughed.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holmium

http://www.google.com/support/forum/p/Picasa/thread?tid=09955cf23aac2f66&hl=en

google+ won’t let me change my profile picture.  what more basic form of functionality can you possibly fuck up, google?  so far, + wastes more screen real estate and energy than facebook (unchanging colors), is less customizable than twitter, and doesn’t allow you to move photos around.  so far, this is not a useful database.

the guy who sold me on permaculture (well, his partner helped) posted this great video to the list where i stalk local farmers.  let’s use that word up, eh?

i would rather be living in any other part of the world.

i am tied to these people, simply for the fact that i’ve encountered them before.  you chose them.  did I?  am i still here?  you still chose this life.  these people are beyond repair.  there’s nothing salvageable in them.  in their trash, in their property, sure.  but they themselves?  they’re completely unacceptable.  worthless.  help them.  what do you think i’ve been doing for the last 3 years.  do they know that?  i have no idea.  tell ‘em.

Dear everyone,
for the past three or four years, i have been developing a system, technique, and network of cooperation amongst former landowners, workers, renters, and any other type of people can work together on essential life-sustaining processes.

after watching these permaculture videos, i go out to my baby rv, and hearing the neighbor’s lawn mower, knowing that this old man is having to push a whirring, vibrating, heat-producing, fuel-consuming noise-maker up and down his yard to maintain this almost useless ground cover.  it works well for football.  whatever.  this thought came to mind:  “the intelligent man goes into his yard and harvests, for he has planted the space with perennial food-producing species in dirt that is shaped by logic of gravity and sun-warmth, and which is fed, regularly, with as many different types of organic materials as can be gathered.  the soil feeds him when he is not there.  flowers and low cover plants provide shelter for biodiversity which makes the use of “pesticides” laughable, and every system has multiple uses, acting as one thing during part of the year/day, and another thing at a later time.  human interaction is designed to work the same way.  complimentary species are encouraged to propagate.  ill-fitting combinations are separated by systematic reconfigurable barriers, ensuring each animal is fed with its appropriate food, and “cultural” clashes are minimized.  once kindness and calmness, based on the knowing where our food for the next six months will come from, are firmly established as the norm amongst property owners, the floodgates will open and love will spread around the planet in a sixth of a generation, increasing exponentially.  the carrying capacity of this planet is limitless under participatory creativity built on real-world work in cooperation with all forms of life.

each process at our energy plant is managed by the person who created it.  certain infrastructures like electricity and water collection will require a certain amount of central coordination, but not necessarily.  independent systems are highly encouraged.  if they overproduce, for whatever their purpose, however, we ask that they re-invest that power to be used by the group.  you see what we’re using it for.  every cent of uncle sam’s will be documented on public web pages viewable 24/7 by anyone.  so, yeah.  most of that goes to pay mortgages.  a few people in transitioning circumstances still require it, but it goes directly to their purposes, at their request.  there are no transaction fees, anywhere, ever.  nobody’s time is micromanaged down to the second unless those they surround themselves with are capable of constant thought.  participation is based entirely by choice, and many go through many cycles before finding their sweet spot.  there is no rush.  the logic overproduces at so many different levels, and the environment is one of encouragement, assistance, and wholehearted appreciation.  after a while, when someone’s participation dropped off, or even slowed down, they were systematically offered “excess” foodstuffs like quiches and pies, complex and healthy combinations of food which fuel recovery, happiness, and love.  the food is nutrition-focused, and open source.  multiple standing daily foodstuffs are produced in-house, by preference and consumption, and daily meals are communal.  everyone cooks.  everyone expresses preference.  house recipes are the product of years of collective testing.  show them a little respect.  then, go nuts.  how do you think they got so good in the first place?

yo, check out this site.  the picture says it all.  i’ll leave it at that.  i should totally get on this.  crazier freaks than adult friend finder, i bet.  fetlife, what?  no, no, that’s why i’m on YouTube and twitter.  umm, yeah.  worst singles sites… evah.

who uses “indeed” as a non-ironic any more?  is it a thing now to just create sentence structures based on archaic shit from crappy bible translations?  fun.  i gotta learn how to do that so i can, uhh, never mind.  i wish i could delete that from my brain.

the idea here is that you put that’s dense but already started decomposing down first, to raise the whole thing up and to get it composting, but at a slower rate.  ingenious.  any woods will have materials like this.  heads people, use ‘em.

“Constructed similarly to a compost pile, the mound garden beds support growing vegetables during the decomposition process. The plants benefit from the warmth of decomposition, as in a hotbed, and the bed provides a rich garden soil. Since the mound is builit of such coarse organic matter as fruit tree prinings and the like, and also because it is not disturbed, the decomposition process produces a much milder heat than a hot bed, and is reported to continue for five or six years.

Each mound is a long berm about 5 feet wide at its base and 3 or 4 feet tall at the time of its construction, though it sinks as the plant materials decompose. A shallow trench is dug out for the area of the new mound, and the sods are removed in squares and saved. A 24-inch-wide and 15-inch-high core of small branches cut in short pieces is laid down the middle of this trench, and the sod that was removed is placed grass side down on top of the branches. Atop the sod goes 12 inches of leaves weighted down with a few spadefuls of soil. etc.”

~Tom

i searched youtube for diy biogas compression and it crashed.  35-55 degrees centigrade.

my quicklist got taken over by this playlist. youtube is.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydrolysis

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaerobic_digestion

what if my house extended a mechanical mower which then collected the organic matter and shredded it to put into a digester?  that would be awesome.  let’s do that.  k.

cooling eliminates the water vapor.  this is why the cooling will run even when it’s unoccupied.  good.

removal of hydrogen sulfide with iron and oxygen?

my dad bought a quesadilla grill today.  it’s big and useless.  it does, poorly, what a half-way conscious person could do with a frying pan.  this is typical of his relationship with food and food-producing implements.  choose only those things which use non-renewable and expensive energy to cook non-nutritious food into something that tastes like his addicted-to-poison palate can enjoy.  the end.

listen here, you condescending piece of shit.  i don’t gotta do nothing.  i will continue to starve under your fascist roof as long as i damn well please.  or, until you kick me out.  i’m guessing the latter will be sooner.  it’s not like this house will ever sell.  the bank will take it over and it will sit empty for months and months, and it will continue being a blight on the planet and everyone.  everything you think i ought to do is contradictory to what i ought to do, you so might as well stop telling me what you think i ought to do.  i ought to be designing permaculture systems for people who actually give a fuck.  i ought to be installing these systems alongside people who actually want to share the abundance of their tiny little plot of earth.  where are the sane people?  seriously, anyone?

this is all my fault.  i gave him a glimmer of hope in my company after he gifted me a can of water-based epoxy.  i didn’t ask for this chemical can, nor do i think i’ll ever use it.  when i asked why, expecting an explanation for its waterproofness or some other logical function, he said “you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.”  i wasn’t trying to shatter your pathetic little ego so you start complaining, dickhead.  i wanted to know why on god’s green earth you would buy a fucking can of chemicals for an anarchist.  clearly, you have no idea what i ought to do.  clearly, you’re still functioning on what you think is best, and it’s fucking up my shit.  i can’t stand being here much longer.

hey, family, as long as you continue to ignore a) my campaign b) my coop c) actual me, you will continue to get a cold shoulder.  any time a thought pops into your head about what you think i ought to do, that’s your signal to you as to why you never hear my voice any more.  you have nothing i want, if you don’t want to turn your land into food and energy-producing space.  i’d rather be housed and fed by the state than live in the knowledge that those who share genetic material with me are all lost.  yes, fucking lost.  i don’t know what the fuck you all are so pissed off and mean and competitive about, but i’m fucking sick of it.  all of you.  every fucking one of you.  burn in the hell you’ve created.

you didn’t do your homework last night, did you.  there’s nothing ingreen bay, i don’t knowgreen bay, and two hours less lecture on both sides.  i hate myself with such unbridled passion, it’s really not funny.  i am the least useful person that has ever existed, and if i have ever had a positive impact on anyone’s life, i’ve contradicted it with something useless and/or shitty.  absolute zero.  that is my worth.  that is its worth.  that is how many people i have recruited in three years of this thought experiment.  exactly zero people give a fuck about anything i’ve learned, and even if they did, there’d be no way for them to tell me.

is this useful?  about as useful as your hide, you scrawny, incapacitated fuck.  great.  end it already, asshole.  even if you get that rv fixed up, nobody will take it.  it will be sold, like the rest of the physical remnants of your pathetic and meaningless existence.  then, everyone you’ve ever met will get together and talk about how you sexually harassed every woman you’ve ever seen at every occasion you’ve seen her and how all you did, ever, was distract everyone from the issue at hand to satisfy your pathetic little ego.  is that about it.  no, there’s got to be more.  jealous, bitter, cruel?  re-enacting the examples, huh?  i see no point.  any number of people could help in any number of ways.  if they don’t want the end result, there’s no way they’ll adopt your steps, let alone use your help.  i thought i wanted to help people, people suck.  they really are the parasites.

WHERE THE FUCK AM I GONNA GO?  What, to off yourself?  go to the bathroom.  leave a pool of blood that he’ll have to clean out of this house.  this house is a pool of blood.  it has remnants of all the souls you’ve trapped in here, screaming in the walls.

i’m going to have to be arrested before i qualify for help, aren’t i.  or lose a limb.  i bet i could get in a magazine article or on tv if i failed horribly at suicide and then decided life was “worth living.”  life would be.  this is a gas-burn-induced torture chamber.  you picked it.  yes, between being screamed at, yelled at, and not having any more pet friends to be taken away, i chose this, yeah.  i had no idea my family was capable of such cruelty.  they feel the same way about you.  yes, that’s what i’m talking about.  when someone is poor and homeless, hungry and beaten, this straighten-up-and-fly-right society attempts to beat and starve them into submission.  for what are the poor but slaves?  under regime of LAW, authority is granted inversely by weight.  those with the most to throw around are given the least.  piled higher and deeper can bite your over-educated and argumentative tongue.  trained helplessness is all i have to work with.  i’m digging around it and pulling it up by the root.  it’s an invasive species, but the roots are shallow.

still waters run deep.  my freshman orientation in college was a six-day hiking trip along theAppalachian trail.  real people made friends there.  i made enemies and acquaintances.  oh, really?  when’s the last time you shared anything of substance?  i recognize the competitive judgmental little fucktard i was then.  i wish i could start over, because there’s nothing salvageable of this life.  nothing.

go drive somewhere,
t

p.s. if you cried the whole way there and the whole way home, you might begin to taste a tiny percentage of the pain you inflict on me.  your god is a lie, and everything you know is wrong.  your tough love is vicious hate with a laugh track.  fuck off and die.

all these parentals that i encounter, trained in this 1950’s only-teach-if-sitting-quietly, aren’t worth all that much.  everything they know is explained in far more detail and far less judgmental grunting by younger people on the internet.  they’re fucking toxic waste dumps.  not even toxic waste processing stations.  dumps.  way to collect various poisons.  way to laugh at the loser with nothing to lose.  do you really think you’re stronger than me?  do you really think you have a leg to stand on, logically or morally?  do most of the people you know from high school tell you you’re the smartest person they’ve ever met?  did your little sister give you a house key and then ask for it back with a stumbling lie about making copies?  has every single member of your family put you out on the street when you were homeless and penniless and working on this coop concept the entire time.  yes, that is now me.  if you ignore that, you ignore me.  you humans.  what do you attach to?  what is your god?  what is your higher power or purpose?  what is the end result of this insanity that you continue pushing through despite all of the obvious horrors that come with it?  WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE?  if it’s to burn gas, just soak your fucking house and send it back to its banker.

damaged goods don’t quite describe me, does it.  shattered.  that’s useful, henry.

no, fucker, i’m here to teach you why YOU don’t have any friends.  i’m a homeless, broke, drunk and horny know-it-all.  nobody like me has friends.  what the fuck is your excuse?

i’m sorry.  no, like a worthless sad sack. there will be no apologies about this truth.

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~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-08-5 (Friday).

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