self-forced writing session. 11:28 am on Saturday, i believe. no, it’s sunday. oh yeah, that’s why i’m in all black. i don’t know what any of it means, referentially.
so i saw me on conan. i called him coe-naan. as supposed to coe-ninn. other hyjinx ensued. u shoulda been there.
i brought my harmonica. easier to get on the plane. you can dance to harmonica. well, i can. if i’m playing. had the idea to put a hole in one side of it to attach a lanyard. like a strap? i piece of hefty string. braided hemp or human hair strands braided together. i guess i’d use nylon or some composite strap if i saw its manufacturing operations and audited the company personally, or if was repurposed trash. when the toxic shit is gone, it will all be replaced with biodegradable, designed-to-be-maintained parts/pieces/elements. i’m feeling like breakfast. i’m at the truck stop. did i mention that? i shoulda.
how do i nicely explain my life to everyone? book? is that the only way. i don’t want to have to key-type all of these. i really want those motion capture hand attachments. super useful. fast typing on the fly. djs from anywhere, anybody can be the camera operator, and my gui is projected on my glasses. overlay. i will have cameras/microphones on my chest, shoulders, and back. earbuds will have retractable/adjustable cords to stay nearby. implanted? not yet. oh, futuristic dystopias. you idea me so.
the way/how/why of structures bothers/offends/amazes/teaches me. architects, food designers, engineers, psychologists, and economists. businesspeople. carrists. more gets put into selling the oldest, crappiest, most stolen-from-other-smart-people stuff than goes into r&d for the immediate future. out there, i mean. i live in my skull. it’s perfect there.
it isn’t even. it’s a lonely mess. you can tell that, huh? let’s do something about it. i don’t have straps on my boots. i have one strap. nobody else is forced to learn how to hover on one leg, are they? oh, right, nobody forced me to do anything. or, if they did, they paid me a legally/socially acceptable amount. i don’t know what to do about this thing. i sit, wait, think, and write. type. writing is literally a different thing. writing is probably prettier than the types. typies. there’s a theory. write that one down, son.
iOrg is going to have to be a hand-written contract. pencil? then you could take pictures of it. and add shading and what-not. as a starting point, the blueprints. survey? don’t i know a guy who could make 3D schematics out of video? i know more nerds than you’d think a dancer ought. i told you, i’m an engineerararator. something. my camera does not have enough battery juice to transfer photos. the batt is flatt. bats. fats. flats of starters.
if you don’t trust me or the people i trust, why do you dare call me friend? trust me to do what i’m going to do, huh. what’s that, exactly? this. tell the truth. yeah, i dislike talking to people on the telephone. i dislike being called condescending names at work. i find it unacceptable. i dislike being withheld critical information. all information is critical, honestly. what am i withholding from you? what can i tell you that i haven’t told you before? the memoirs?
by the time i learned of the concept of “president,” i knew i was that. i had to be. nobody else could withstand my gaze in the role, and none else could respond and re-orient amplification justly. get to the point, attention-seekers. what, specifically, do you think will save the world? intentionally integrative permaculture. we start with fruit trees in open spaces, spaced optimally, and integrated into landscaping improvements which protect and optimize waterflow, pathways/food/assistance of living things, and plans for interior growth. the canopy trees are the roof of the food forest architecture. between them are fruit/nut trees and bushes/shrubs. swales can be built out of whatever was in the way. yes, in certain areas, where clearing has already happened, there isn’t much living stuff to work with, especially if you start carving out swales. in the database/planner, i’d up the amplification on these so we had working-level hugelculture/soil block beds. bricks would work too. lots of things would work. we’re talking about the outdoor hallways here. the capacity will depend on how many people will be using it simultaneously, or, the overall space will, and exit/entrance procedures (go when you feel) will provide a logical path through the space. there need not be pathways to accommodate vehicles to every living place. part of the idea is that humans can show up after having ridden a bike from 5 minutes to 3 hours. you know how much difference in what you could grow within that 120-mile range? not that much. season extension, perhaps. i don’t know where that came from, or where it’s going. i start sentences i don’t know the ending to, all the time. i write them, anyway. i probably speak them, too. that might explain part of the stream of toxic shit that spews out of me. [on occasion]
if you want to learn what i teach, you’re going to have to get my help. i didn’t do that on purpose, but you seem to not be getting all that i’m putting out in public, in writing, in music, and in video. i know i’m the one who’s not getting “it.” any of, for that matter. like i said, i’m ready when you are.
have we gotten more designs to share? moron erv. doy. since the shell is going to essentially be a self-supported, carry-on-/trailer, it should have its own rigid pan. an aluminum snowmobile trailer would probably have the material to do this, wouldn’t it? we might find a rawwer source of scrap. true. this is designed to be done in stages, yo. if we got a spot of land, we might integrate the current shell into a self-standing earthship. or, if we got a shop, we could dismantle it entirely and use the parts in the rebuild. i think we can get lighter materials and a more efficient shell from a printer. undoubtedly. do you know anyone who will print us a home? e-mail me if you do. i wanna build erv 1 with farmers and aluminum slingers, welders, grease-monkeys, building contractors, and electro-hackers. she will be made of scrap and trash and youtube videos. erv 2 will be the crouching, breathing, floating, printed capacitor frame with integrated pack-O-gum computers, racing-speed drive motors, and will be covered in cutting-edge photo-voltaics and wind turbine infrastructure that will allow her to fly. my baby is a transforming house. bike and motorcycle wheels are so much lighter, and i don’t got a lot of baggage now that i put everything i owned that mattered to me in erv1. the black pope-mobile is another beautiful design. we need a top shell for it. probably scam one of those off a yurt. yuh huh, i can too. it will be an expandable yurt. lightweight. i don’t live at highway speeds. look at that snap-down fabric that they did jeep tops out of. yurts are stronger than that. the pieces i’d need will be small. i’ll work with them directly. factory scraps, reassembled. that shit would make decent body armor, too. yeah. erv2 will be beautiful. erv1 is already beautiful. she is, indeed.
so this is a film? how else could we finance it? self-interest of those who help us? all of the above. you realize if you could stand helping me, that we’d be making a commercial for a new creative enterprise, right? we’d get enough footage by someone nearby so that you could edit it down yourself. a means to introduce others to your methods/style/beliefs? it’s a big open database.
you have that information at your fingertips. who wants that kind of data? what, all of it? plenty of people. all of those who matter/understand? if you are counter to sharing, you believe that bounty is not plentiful, that resources are limited. your belief in this maintains the actual concept. stop that. we must work with nature. with the materials and tools that we have here.
the additional supplies? donated, i hope. or, if all else fails, i will use federal reserve notes from my various slave gigs. i can’t stand those. being treated like an animal drives me nuts. if you communicate with people via telephone, don’t set up the operation so that it shuts down when you have to take a phone call. hi, this is chris. please e-mail or text me your needs because my presence costs four employees’ time right now. better yet, use our app and order directly from there. we can pack your order while you drive here, or deliver it when one of our member-participators bikes/drives/walks past its destination. it’s like an idyllic fantasy-fiction future-robotic paradise. the owner of that house is pretty cranky around most people. dictator targets those residences. just to get their families over, to snag them. he entraps so many people who don’t want to be pulled into this thing, but his knowledge of their space and desire to integrate their infrastructure/resources into current/future projects is, how you say, legendary. that word sucks. i know all these douchebag passwords in an attempt to communicate with them. i know they’re barely human, but killing them is such a waste of flesh. if we composted them, sure, swing away. pig food, they may be, but i still think a grown meatbot is a useful tool. you have to unplug them from the matrix, and you have to want to be unplugged. guilt doesn’t work. the machine has co-opted that to such a degree that yelly manipulative guilt-tripping has a cult following among tv viewers. it’s so sad. i never know what to say when i’m pained by the “shows” that someone i love, loves. i leave without explanation a lot, as a result. pain. i got out of there because it was causing me physical harm. i am not the one doing harm to me. i would have no reason to do that. how would i ignore me? so which is it? can you not ignore something you’re not aware of, or can you not be aware of something you’re ignoring? yes. ok.
first, a kid took a couple’s stainless flatware (silver has worth and antibacterial properties) and then a car alarm went off. i got criss-cut fries with a side of mayonnaise. these (1:11 pm) are freak-of-nature, can’t-possibly exist out of/in the real, natural things which they approximate. lie. what? you could make fresh mayo out of fresh eggs and non-commodity/non-gmo oil, you could fry them in a locally grown, locally pressed organic oil, and you could double-fry potatoes grown organically right in the back yard or up on the roof. why not? you like paying sysco to give your customers lower-quality foodstuffs? i know you like to think the people who spend their money there have an unlimited supply of it, but they don’t. so therefore, neither do you. if the poor people dry up, you’re going to have to close these doors and retreat to your home. nobody wants that. let the poor people upon whose health you have benefitted through these many years to help you make the process sustainable, in all senses of the term. the parking lots and gas stations will gradually get pulled up, replace with charging & exercise/generator stations. any interactions with vehicles will remain around the perimeter of the property. growing things everywhere.
there isn’t really a way to integrate the processes of the industrial food machine. it will be phased out, slowly dismantled, and repurposed as needed. open source permaculture food forest ocean liner, anyone? yeah, that used to be a factory in a small town. now? there’s a huge food forest that feeds everyone that ever worked there, and their families and friends. the land itself is their health insurance, now that we got that toxic dump all floaty. good thing.
we got cnn on the tube here. which brand [editors know’t: timewarner] are they again? i fergits. login time, that must mean. 1:21 pm.
- carrots do need luvvs.
“Every time you vote, you keep the government the same way it has always been: corrupted. if you were playing a game with someone who continued to cheat, wouldn’t you eventually refuse to play with them anymore?” ~pic on fb
kewl? yep. peas luv dope,