Up to Date

Shoveling shit out of the back of a yellow pick up truck with a hangover

The Gulf of Tonkin incident never happened.

Another

Collective Consciousness, good one, that's hilarious Dude. There is nothing collective, or conscious about any of this...

Cosmic

There are implications for breaking the law whether it's natural, cosmic, real or human. Of course every action is connected. Too bad the leaders, and the people they lead are completely disconnected from what is happening right in front of their eyeballs...

Don't Stare at the Sun, it'll drive you to a void of Thought...

 

Just before sitting down I made this blown image of the sun casting out its photon light energy in all directions.  Both lens and exposure are manual in this shot, somehow the effect is appealing to me considering the transfer I was about to go on.

I believe it was Robert E. Lee who was quoted but not cited saying, "Fiction weakens [spoils] the mind."  Not sure if I agree or not anymore, he does however have a good point...

Physical Placement
In the middle of the daylight day two full earth rotations back from this, my body and mind came to a still sitting position on the hot shingled roof of the place where I sleep.  This spot I sat on was a completely exposed steep slant in the middle of the section that connects the main roof of the house to the big one over the two car carport. The cause of being there was work alone for hours up and down, and back up sweating without realization.  Up there is where it gets more hot than on the ground below.  Tar.  Radiant waves of solid heat do not seem to bother my emotions or form as hours pass, once again without realization.  The longer the exposure to our immediate physical environment, the better adapted we become.  Even in the blasting hot heat.  Although my eyes were protected from the sun's gamma and beta, the atmosphere and all else I could feel wasn't.

What it looked like
There I sat with my legs crossed tightly.  My back was straight, my torso erect.  The only neck I have came strong holding my head completely high perched above the rest of me facing the solar center of our system.  Underneath me at a slant between the hot sloping shingles and my sit bones was the blanket sized piece of gray carpet that I have held onto from the jeep I once owned, or thought I did anyway.  Back then, with that truck I could and often did drive anywhere without thought or consequence.  Those days have become completely gone forever because my connection to the actual emotional cost has been learned.  Gone for the reality of just being creates in me an understanding of what is for sale. Rationalization, justification, ownership, avoidance, separation and so on. With that I am afraid to unlearn having only a small understanding of why.  The colors of the blanket and the roof melded visually into one even though the blanket was softer, and less hot to the touch.

Electricity in the Brain Housing Group
Thoughts form in my skull from what my life has given me in experiences of being.  Unfortunately there is no logical way to convey to you the exact mechanism that designs the start of a specific human thought.  Mystery. 

Interlude with Visual Connection
The sun was a dime sized blazing disc in the middle of the sky pointing down directly at the center of my forehead.  In the calm hot fiery air my eyes assayed the white roof top in all direction as far as I could see without moving my brain.  All appeared white, even the space around me except for the bright red bricks of the chimney squarely morphing from the peak upwards and the out of focus vibrant green trees behind that.  Mental depth of field.  Hazard.  A sundry of items lie scattered about littering the steep pitched deck.  Every object in front of me was familiar save the feelings pouring out onto the the carpet, and a small patch of roof in the form of liquid sweat.  It was so quiet and still up there.  Wonder.  As the fluid left me, it made contact with a small piece of exposed shingle just outside the carpet edge.  For a second I could almost smell the salt water turn to vapor as soon as it made contact with the hot roof.  Essence of one's self is rarely understood, at that moment I was on the way to doing just that.

Specificity in the Inventory of  Visual Scanning
Without moving my body or head the optic recognition of senseless objects continues with little thought.  The narrow heavy blue steel cat's paw lied motionless just a few feet away out of reach.  It was sticking out on its side from underneath a trashed shingle.  It was apparent just by staring at its inert response that the tool was soaking up the heat without letting it go.  Holding on. 

Really, 94 Million Miles of an Absence of Space
Just then my eyes broke from the tool below me looking up towards the solar information disc above, some 94 million miles distant.  That orb of hot glowing gasses with a volume 1.3 million times greater than that of earth appeared dime to nickel size hanging motionless up above the white sky.  Blue is no longer.  Not only was the position of the northern hemisphere tilted on axis directly towards the sol, but the slanted roof I was perched on increased the visual angle.  Slant v. Slope.  Now I was still again soaking up the radiation without moving, only concentrating on what being felt like.  Inside my mind even that movement was slowing, which created space for a trickle of imagination.

Sound Vibration and Space
They say you cannot hear the sound of the sun, so I tried anyway.  Yes, there is no physical way that the deafening sound (to us here on earth) of the sun can be heard for the vibrations do not travel through the 94 million miles of vacant space vacuum between here and there.  Each and every atom in my human body takes up as much room as that space between here and the sun, that was my last thought before it all went away. My eyes were closing a bit just as the vibration became audible in my cortices.  Although the noise was made up, it was real as my mental landscape gave up the room to accept how easy it is to understand.  Distortion.  Electro-Magnetic sharp waves pulsating as a result of fiery hydrogen and helium gasses to name a few being the most powerful thing within my realm.  The light is on me immediately, however the sound is almost two decades behind at that exact second in time.  Confusion leads to more letting go and opening.

Breathe and Breath
The basic human function overlooked by our culture.  Time is irrelevant, a watch means nothing although watching is everything.  It takes many practices to get deep breathing to touch your diaphragm.  Many attempts of concentrating on a balance between the same length of inhales, versus the immediate transition to exhales without hesitation.  These practices allow you to focus on going deeper with inhales in succession each time moving right into the same length of exhales, back to a deeper inhale, matching exhale and so on.  Before long that inhale supersedes the times space allotted by the bounds of modernity and contact is made with the diaphragm, a feeling one never forgets or unlearns when it is experienced.  We all know that the diaphragm is the muscle under our lungs and above our stomach.  Feeling it which created a visual behind closed eyes is a whole other story.  In the scorch up high, no one dropped by as I began to free fall into the absence of thought with complete feeling.

First Movement out of the Trance
Om Shanti.  In my mind was a blank screen long enough to feel bliss, the journey took me to a destination not often seen.  A specific vision often comes to my mind, as far back as Christmas of 1976 or 77.  The better part of my life I would ignore the little picture or film in my mind's eye up until about twelve years ago when I was taught exactly how important it is to understand the visual impressions my mind provides me for free, in the true sense of the word.  These little clips are insights to the invisible forces of love and gravity, truth and what is real.  For the past few weeks I have been bothered while waking up in the middle of a night by an animated little cerebral video of a giant white three ring binder.  When I came out of my space vacant of thought or connection the first thing that I saw even though in light I was surrounded by darkness was that white three ring binder.  Somehow, the place was perfect for me to understand what was happening and hold onto what was being cast onto the inside front movie screen of my skull.  All of a sudden this plain white binder on an even brighter white backdrop opened up with invisible fingers attached to a just as invisible hand so that I could see the contents of the book.  White paper, completely blank.  The image was still for a piece, then the invisible fingers began to flip through the pages so that I could see three things.  First, there was nothing on either side of the paper.  Secondly, there was an infinite amount of pages from the beginning, the flipping would go on for eternity.  And finally, those blank pages are the empty guidelines not yet written for the future ahead of me, and us all passed the immediate now.

Conclusion leads to the Next Space
When I came back to earth reality sort of speak, I realized I was not sweating anymore.  My body was cooked even before I went into a meditative state and now distance had been traveled on the earth hurtling through at 55,000mph. How far had I gone while sitting there under the hypnosis of the information disc?  Wonderment.  My Indian Style motionless sit journey took me out for a spin of no fewer than 55,000 miles and what a ride it was considering I never left where the two roofs came together.

Dam (like damn) Pictures of the Week...

On Thursday afternoon Albemarle Rd., HWY 24/27 was closed in both directions at the big dip just passed the Lawyers Rd. and East Harris intersection because of a cracked weir holding back the swollen man made Forest Lake.  Outbound rush hour car commuter traffic on Albemarle heading east was a dam standstill nightmare all the way back to Independence, unless of course you were on dam a bicycle. 

Friday morning I rolled out of the house early with my little camera in the bag and headed over to check out how much progress was made from the overnight efforts of the CFD and some contractors to drain the lake and relieve pressure on the dam weir.  When I stood on the east bank of the lake, the first thing I noticed besides the huge generator pumps and their lines was the roof of a car.  HWY 24/27 had been reopened long before I arrived. 

Here is a look at the riprap application on the backside of the stress fatigued dam.  A few meters down below the sloping terrain is 24/27.  Although Forest Lake is not a huge body of water, it had enough volume behind the dam to cause a major problem across Albemarle and in the neighborhood on the other side of the highway on down stream.  *Notice what appears to be a big pile of condoms that were cleared from the pipes. The man on the phone might be calling the mayor's office to find out what to do with them...

The dam draining seemed to be winding down, the big motors went silent.  I rode around to the west bank of the lake and talked to a few folks from the press corps, including a familiar staff photographer from the Observer.  This photographer who will remain anonymous for the time being or until you use your intuitive deductions skills, asked me if I had rode all the way from the big buildings just to get a shot of the car.  I gave him the brief organic explanation about my daily commute which made him smile and almost start to laugh.  When I asked him about the scoop on the car, he told me that the bigger story was that the pumps continuously stopped working through the night.  "Yeah", he said, "One of the engineers told me that the big pipes draining the lake kept getting clogged up which caused the motors down to shut down often.  Apparently there were 25 years worth of condoms in the lake that were jamming the pipes."  Oh, I get it, you are making a dam joke.  Very funny.

Seriously, what about the dam car, was there a body in it?  We talked a bit more about the project unfolding in front of us.  My intuitive self felt like there was no human in the sunken car, but that feeling was based on my scanning of what I could see of the passenger compartment and the body language of the CMPD brass standing quietly on the hill.  The contents of the trunk was the only question, there was a physical block I could not feel passed to know for sure whether or not there was a body in there. 

The news crews started packing up and it was time for me to get going as well.  I overheard one of the cameramen mention that 'they' will not pull the car out while the cameras were set up.  The waiting game was over and the Observer guy without offering to drive me into town told me to be careful on my ride in.  "Thanks, if I'm not you'll read about it in that paper you work for", I told him as I rode away beating him and his motorized van to East Harris and beyond. 

This parting image was the most interesting in the set to me.  Tree stumps at the bottom of Forest Lake, I would have never thought that the floor of the lake looked like this until I saw it myself.  It was clearly obvious that this man made lake was one day natural wooded space.

901 Gone to the Dogs

23May2011

Geared Road Ride with Dude, PLUS 900th Post

Dude and I stopped at around about 55 miles for me, something like 63 for him under a shade tree at Cold Springs and Cold Springs.  Our twenty minute respite gave us a chance to get caught up on our emails, consume some liquid and advise a caller from far away on the best way to remove pedals from a bike. The caller must have never done that before...

Another one of Jerry's 105km (125km getting on and off from my hizzle) cues out east of here provided not only country visual oohs and aahs, but as well enough exposed to the sun's power climbing to hurt just a bit.  Dude rolled up from his house to mine at right before 0800hrs yesterday, the Fourth of July. He had just missed my dumb ass neighbor's thick black male cat remove a road killed meat bloody squirrel from the street in front of my mailbox, and then struggle with its head in his mouth all the way to his own back step. 

Never a dull moment here in the wild kingdom known as east Charlotte.  We rolled out on time with Dude convincing me that we do not have to swallow our pride surfing the side walk on Albemarle Rd. until it ends out by Wilgrove Mint Hill Rd., we would take to HWY 24/27 as if we owned it.  Interestingly enough, just like he said when we turned out of the far end of a connected neighborhood onto it, "Oh yeah, we got this."

Then out passed Sherman Branch we spun by as folks unloaded their mountain machines in the lot about to go into the woods before it got too hot.  The Rocky River Church Road took us out to the lower then right onto Morrison Rd. It is truly amazing how quickly leaving the hectic traffic of Charlotte disappears turning into an innocuous authentic smelling farm field scape lined with two miles of tall pines.  A dog barks while Dude talks about future rides he is preparing for right now. No one is out of their homes, even in the country the blinds are drawn behind the cars filling the drive.  A rooster blasts his calls announcing our approach as we zoom by.

Flowes Store Rd was next then left on it again riding deeper out into the gentle agricultural land rollers.  As the ride hit the 2 and a half hour mark I started to notice the most uniquely built old turn of the 19th Century farm houses. Some of them were abandoned, slanting to the right or left with rusted tin roofs clinging to main frame chimneys.  The porches on these places told me a short story each time I looked over my shoulder then hearing the hot wind in my ear. Mainly white now faded gray was the color of choice, even back then.  Vines and golden fields took up my view only yielding to those which were green or brown.  Jwaye, you were missing the 'where the fuck am I transfer'.

More heat but not the eXtreme kind, yet radiant and pulsating on my skin.  Morale is always good when riding with Dude.  As we talked about things in general and pro level drive trains (on his bike, not mine) I realized that I had been riding with him for over a decade.  Age is whiz dumb and learning simultaneously while watching friends pedal right next to you for long periods of time or transfer.  That famous morale of the only person I was riding with other than me never wavered when I (then we) realized that I had erroneously transposed a left turn missed for an actual right turn that I never saw until we were about four miles off the cue.  How could it be a ride with me if we didn't get lost for awhile?

Fixing that with the hand held transmitter as someone parked their idling Agway lawnmower to run into the store gave us the only busy road we felt.  Back on continued with the most incredible roads available to ride out of town.  Some of them were narrow without any painted lines or a single auto the whole way.  Again, the feeling of real living enveloped us as we rode right through the center of it.  Where are we, I thought to myself at about three hours in riding as I was staring at hundreds of cows and bulls dotting the immediate right hand side of the paved quiet Euro road for two thousand meters.  Cedar post fence with barbed wire run in between separated us on our bikes rolling from these large animals that like a painting disappeared into the distant tree line.  Some were eating the lush green short grass while others were moving about with their babies or standing in the center of a low brown pond.  Most of them seemed to at least take notice of us as we pedaled on by staring at them.

Mt. Olive Road and its series of sun blistered climbs as well as Dude's pace put me to task.  Once again my heart was apparent and visually on the front of the inside of my skull.  Bright lights small town or none at all.


Real sugar.  On in on Albemarle again something like four hours and a half riding time closing in on our separate homes Dude and I split before the train bridge, him to the right for Pence then Hickory Grove while I continued tingly on HWY 24/27.  It took me a minute to cool down when I arrived at the safety of the place I sleep with dogs. 

Note from Author:  When I logged in toonight to make this post documenting my latest road ride, I noticed that it was going to be my 900th post.  Yes I know, most of it is crap but it does fascinate me that I have gotten on here and put something, anything out that many times.  Even more intriguing is that you are part of it and at anytime can go back all the way to the beginning, 900 posts ago.  To Celebrate I feel like I should go on a 900 mile ride or something...

13 Years Ago Today & It's About the People...

No gain, no pain...

Here is a recent shot of Nate on the beach near Bol Croatia.  He is apparently impressing the people on the ferry cruising the Adriatic Sea behind him with his mad HASTA PADANGUSTHASANA skills.  Photographer Nela Kranjcevic.  *Note:  Header image credit obviously Nela as well.

Today is July 3, 2011 which happens to be the thirteenth Anniversary of the first day I started as a bike messenger in Charlotte.  Time flies when you are having fun making money having fun.  Those very first few days on the job are clear in my memory, especially meeting two of the couriers already in place.  One of those was the not yet notable to many Rich Dillen, and the other was Nathan Sprinkle.  Dicky is still around, however Nathan has long since moved on with his life which has taken him on multiple journeys to far away places in Africa and Europe.

Friends do not have to talk much on the phone or the email to actually remain friends when time and space on this earth separates them.  Over the years riding as my livity in Charlotte I have met some truly amazing and powerful humans, Nathan is near the top of that list.  In celebration of my 13th year of couriering by bike, I would like to share with you Nate's response to 10 questions that I recently posed to him.  His matter of fact answers are coming all the way from Belgrade Serbia where he has found some sort of internal peace that is apparent in his words and the picture above.  I find his character and worldly bravery an inspiration that is worth sharing with you. 

1. Since I've known you Nate, you've been on many travels. How long has it been on this latest excursion since you left America, and where are you now?

I left the USofA in early July of 2010, so it's been almost a year. I am writing from Belgrade, Serbia, where I have a legally obtained Temporary Resident Visa. Since Nela and I plan to marry we have to figure out what procedures are necessary for maintaining my legitimate existence. For instance, do I try to get a new international driving permit or a license issued by the Serbian authorities?

2. Do you miss your existence here in the U.S.?

I miss certain things about the US. My family, of course. My sister's baby is growing up fast and I can only watch his human progress via skype. Not to mention my 3 nieces. I miss certain foods. I miss the National Park System. There are some really beautiful landscapes in this part of the world but they are not easy to access.
3. Have you found a bike, and more importantly do you ride it much? If so, what is it like to ride in such a far away place?

I do have a bike, remember I posted some photos of it on my FB wall. It is a strange gestalt that is referred to here as a fitness bike. I use it to commute as often as possible. I don't ride for recreation as much as I was in the States. Perhaps because I have a girlfriend (now fiance), and perhaps because Belgrade isn't really a great place to ride a bike, topographically or traffically. I have met a few local riders through a website (www.cikloberza.com) and plan to get riding more in the future. I want to do some touring, but that is predicated on finding a way to earn money.
4. Does your last experience as a messenger here in Charlotte still have an impact on your life right now?

I often feel very lazy. There isn't much teaching to do, I have only a few classes, and it is not physically taxing work. I do housework, of course, but that doesn't count. I have to remind myself that I can work hard and diligently when the need arises. I think back to my last messenger experience: 50 minute morning commute, 8 hour day of riding, then straight to class until after dark, and end with another long commute or a bus ride if I was lucky. I miss it sometimes.
5. What does it feel like to have a college degree from an American University while living in eastern Europe?

I wish I had studied Biology.

6. How's Nela?

Nela is in conflict right now. She wants to change her job, and has the opportunity to do so. But the new job pays less than her current job. Also she wants to have a baby, and if she takes the new job she feels she will have to put off having a baby. She is happy we are getting married, though, and that we are getting long really well, after a rough patch a month or so ago. *Late Edit: She took the new Job.
7. Do you ever tell anyone in Serbia that you know Team Dicky and The Pie personally?

I haven't met anyone who are aware of the Team Dicky phenomenon, much less The Pie. Sometimes I am surprised at how much people know of American Culture and at other times I am disappointed at things they have missed. I'm not sure how Team Dicky would be interpreted by the Serbian audience. Would they see it as just another example of American moral depravity? Or as the Id that opposes US cycle racing's Ego?
8. What's the biggest difference between the American culture you were raised in, and the culture of the people you are surrounded by right now?

Nela was surprised when I told her that many, if not most, people in the US believe in Heaven and Hell. I was raised by a Christian family in a Christian society and only reached atheism by way of a long period of contemplation and consideration. Here, atheism is just the way things are. Even people who are religious (in Serbia, Orthodox Christianity is most common) are not beholden to all of the strict doctrines that US Christians hold dear.
9. In the recent image (assumed to be shot by Nela) I saw of you holding some sort of yoga pose (excuse my ignorance like you always have), what body of water is behind you?

The body of water is The Adriatic Sea, specifically the part that flows between the islands of Brać and Hvar. The pebble beach on which I balanced is called Zlatni Rat or "Golden Cape" (though 'rat' can also mean 'war') near the town of Bol. The photo is deceiving, the beach is actually pretty crowded, but not nearly as crowded as, say, Myrtle Beach. The water is crystal clear down to at least 30 feet. Also I haven't done a full yoga session in months.
10. Right now, this magical instant before us, do you ever see yourself coming back to the land of the free?

Sure. At least to visit. It depends on economics, really. But I expect to be, as I always am, dismayed and depressed by the continual and unflagging destruction of the best thing about America: the land.

Thanks, I don't think of myself as an inspiring person. I had the pleasure of meeting two friends from the States on the recent trip to Croatia. I hope some day you and I have a chance to meet on the soil of this continent.

Smrt Fašizam (as they used to say),
nathan

Laptop Round Up for the Real Goal Reached, and that is just the beginning...

Here Ryan (not wearing a tie) and Luiguuy graciously take a minute to pose for me and my ubiquitous eyephone ap. Note: Ryan's eyes are wide open...

On my regular commute in earlier today the rhythm of the constant cranking combined with fact that a patch of my soft rubber tires were making a narrow short but firm contact with the man made enhancement to the earth's surface, I had a thought. This original Bill thought started with a sound in my ears, like a ringing: Life as well as our existence in it is truly more than who we are, or who we perceive ourselves to be. This is not about me, or anyone specifically for that matter.

According to our accounting department, as of June 1, ten laptops with functioning operating systems (the Hackers told me operating operating systems 'sounds' funny) have been delivered to Haiti and are in the loop on the ground helping folks who live in a place where time stands still. That is good.

Even better though is that thanks to the overall support of Hackerspace Charlotte, Smiles, Danny, of course Ryan, and a few others who need no press we were able to pass to Luiguuy five working machines last night. That means that the Laptop Round Up for the Real has been able to meet its goal of 15 donations. Dough Nay Shuns. The crazy part is we will be steadily passing by the original goal for our own kinda victory over the next months and perhaps into early next year. In other words, (we) still have more to fix in the hole, and really wonderful humans have made commitments to our project that will keep it going well into the fall.

Just as the Hackerspace was trying out their new perfectly legal pneumatic Rocket Launcher along side the main train tracks that service both freight trains and speeding by Amtrak passengers, Luiguuy pulled in to make the pick up. Before we gave him the computers, we made sure he got to see at least one launch. No tease, that paper/duct tape missile lofted up over 250 feet above our heads. Shock and awe, the Hackerspace never lets you down.

Jwaye told me that back when she was in college her communication media professor taught her that this image is classic, "Grip and grin." Jwaye, all the money that your parents spent on your college experience was well worth it, you are educated.

Here Luiguuy and I complete the collegiate degree with a very natural, grip and grin. Both of us are actually smiling because what is happening around us is completely real.

Quarry Swim

Eyephone Ap Image of Mein Schatz with goggles on in the center of the frame last Monday afternoon shot by me.

For those of you who missed it, this is the quarry I passed on my solo 125km ride the previous Sunday from now.  I was in northwest Cabarrus County, about as far away as Jerry's cue took me when just below the road at a steep angle was the most perfect looking swimming hole I've seen in years here in North Carolina.  There was no way I could stop then, I had to keep pedaling for the house was still hours away.

The next day however I had the chance to surprise my kid with a clean cold water swim transfer.  Before we left she kept asking questions about what it was going to be like.  She understands completely how polluted the water in our county actually is and wanted to verify that she was not going to be let down after having to spend an hour in the car each way.  Google earth satelite imagery a few hundred feet above the deck was all she needed to see before suggesting that we leave right away.  So, we did.

It was hard to believe how far away the spot seemed by UN Montero as compared to my bike ride.  That place is out there.  I found myself reminding her each time she asked about how much longer was it going to take to get there that just the day before I had made it on my bike and home, it cannot be that much farther.  Finally, the spot.  A short descent down a steep and a scan of our selected place along the water's edge.  Safety first.  There were no postings and we happened to be the only ones there for just under two hours. 

Earth like lunar planet (like plan it) landscape, clean smelling cool water. Sun blast information disc heat on shoulders creating a happy kid disappearing under the surface of molecular water.  I really felt for a split second that I was in the sacred place of Utah while knowing damn well I was in the center of the Tar Heel State.  The dry wind felt amazing on my wet skin when I walked out of, not on the water.  Bright sun photon light energy (E=MC2) blasted us as we frolicked.  Warmth and quiet looking with birds flying high above.

My kid continues to amaze me with the way she receives her natural surroundings.  She is older now, being pulled between the safety of being a small child, naive to the aggressive nature of the agenda above us and stepping out into her own reality check.  Beauty in feeling what her emotional capacity has to offer makes her bright eyed, especially in the water which is one of the three colors that makes up her earth colored eyes.

Now I know why I went on that long ride alone...

Crepuscular Rays

Are what you have been looking at for the last week or so up top.

Crepuscular Rays (a.k.a. God Rays) have always caught my attention whenever I see them forming.  As a small kid running around on a hill in Connecticut I can remember seeing them up by the power lines that would stop me in my tracks.  Power line, get it?

The evening sky was looking right just a week and a half ago, so I ran around the front and down the street for a somewhat clear line with the old lens on and one in each in my two front pockets.  These rays were not that impressive, however, as an experiment they were worth capturing.

Basically Crepuscular rays occur in our visual cortices when the sun's hectic photon energy streams through gaps in the clouds.  The effect is dramatized through my eyes when the under side of the clouds that the light is streaming through becoming more shadowed and dark.  These light shows usually happen in the late evening hours which is how they got there name.  Here is the definition of crepuscular from the dictionary:

-adjective
1.  of, pertaining to, or resembling twilight; dim; indistinct
2.  Zoology.  appearing or active in the twilight, as certain bats and insects

So, now that the science part of this post is over, I would like to share something I find hilarious with you.  Cedar Posts and Barbed Wire Fences (a.k.a Cedar) is the only blog (not bike related) that I am completely addicted to, have been for a few years now since I accidentally discovered that he had Rock and Roll Stop the Traffic linked on his blog roll.   Although I do not agree with everything he believes in, I am amazed at how truthful his information is as compared to say, any other local media outlet in the region.   If you want to get the real insight as to what is happening in our town, I highly suggest checking in with him regularly.  He is brave.

Anyhow, the other day I was reading his post about something sort of dumb that NBC did during the start of their coverage of the U.S. Open Golf Championships.  That dumb thing turned even more dumb when NBC as a Corporate 'voice' electronic entity apologized for the first dumb thing on Twitter almost immediately after it had happened.  Okay fine, I am updated, but what was hilarious to me was in the comment line three down.

(sorry in advance for the F-bomb being posted on this blog.  That happening is a first, and at least it is not mine)

Anon 11:17pm lovingly writes:


its - a possessive, similar to your, NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE
it's - a contraction of "it is", as in 'it's fucking simple', A FUCKING
APOSTROPHE


Need a trick? Fine - when using it's or you're, expand the contraction. If
"you're head is full of shit" becomes "you are head is full of shit" and doesn't make any sense (maybe it will to you because you're a fucking idiot), then you are using the wrong word.
June 20, 2011 11:17 PM 

 Then Cedar replies with:

Cedar Posts said...

Funny comment even with all the F-Bombs.


Note to the rational, normal people in the world: Thanks for understanding!


To everyone else, its a BLOG! So before you work yourself into a stroke, please consider these ten points:


1) Most of this is "Orginal Content"
2) done on the fly from a BlackBerry
3) By someone wjo can't spell
4) or type
4) and has limited math skills.
5) While most people can "read around" typos,
6) this writer has come to accept that some people are obsessed with even the smallest of tiny details.
7)Sad but over the years I have come to learn that small people have small lives, and live in small homes where the littlest things drive them crazy.
9) I have to laugh and hope they aren't armed and that the bus route doesn't run close to their homes.
10) But its OK with me if you want to rant your life away.
June 21, 2011 4:39 AM 

 Yesterday I made a happy handed from brain mistake when I wrote: This will be another 15 second proceeding in where the defense will inform the judge and the state whether it has had the time to read the discovery it was presented at the last court date. 

Over twenty years ago I learned HOW TO APPLY WHETHER, AND I HAVE NEVER FORGOTTEN.  (Until yesterday apparently)

Of course when I read my post this afternoon and caught the fact that I had left out an 'or not', I fixed it after feeling the blog writer's invisible humiliation. You can't see it, but it kicks you in the gut every time and makes you think about dying. Cedar has the right understanding of the problem making mistakes.  I need to learn from him and just build a bridge so I can ride my bike right over it.  I was however sort of let down that a raving lunatic did not blast me with an anonymous identity on my comment section. Thanks once again Cedar, this time for drawing my attention to what is completely real...

No I haven't Forgotten, how could I ever?

I am sharing [with no intent to sell anything] this picture of Radok that I found on his memorial faceliftbook page.  The original credit looks like it goes to Laura Dwyer whose name was attached to the image. (I changed her original work to Black & White and did an 'e' crop)

It has been over five months since Radok left the face of the earth, and I am often tacitly reminded about the life he lived during my daily existence still living.  Small things you know.  For example, on my inbound commute I pass the white wall that I was sitting on behind the Exxon 'on' the run, while waiting for him to roll up that day he followed me in to make a picture in the rain.   Another example would be that about an hour after passing the wall, I get coffee down at the CM2 in the South End is near.  On the cabinet door below the shelf that the coffee thermoses are on is one of those Chris Radok sitting in the chair stickers.  When I look at him, he stares right back.   Two hours later, I am in the courthouse.  For the rest of my career I will not be able to go into that house of judiciary without knowing that is where Radok's murderer is being brought to face the truth of his projection and manifestation.

After I leave the courthouse, on my way to deliver the work  I often climb up to Tryon on Trade Street which has me go right by the Ritz.  Hey, that's where Radok worked.  Time goes by and I ride around on the schedule to the firms and a few hours later I find myself racing (sort of) to a call for an ASAP.  It is tight traffic on south Tryon and street side parked autos have me pinched in a tiny little place of a line.  Once Radok ran backwards with the wide lens and body in his hand to get a cool cold rainy day shot of Nate and I.  More time passes, back to the courthouse and another return trip.  In the afternoon, on my way home that very same day I will go right by that same white wall again.  How could I not recognize it for the spiritual message that it actually is.  Radok, it's not just me man.  You're life, the way you lived it and the impact you had on those people fortunate enough to have spent time with you will be felt forever...

Maybe I should get you all caught up on the court proceedings in the case of The State of North Carolina v. Antoine D. Young.  Here is the organic down load as of today.  After the post pone meant of the Rule 24 Hearing one was had on the very next monthly calendar opening.  The state, headed up by Gabrielle Macon publicly presented their intent to seek the death penalty for Young as punishment upon conviction.  I was there that day with some gum chewing energy amongst other friends, but I missed Young being led in to be told about his own death.  After the hearing and the intentions of the state being read I felt neutrality, revenge is not apparent in what I feel.  Process.  Rule 24.

Since then there has been one other court date, which is not considered a hearing.  Bev in the District Attorney's office has answered my calls and always takes the time to explain to me what is going on.  I should also let you know that I check in with the criminal clerk every several weeks to see if there is any new info.  The last court date was back in May and it was a 15 second admin session where basically the state presented the defense with all the evidence discovery that it had collected in the case.  The defense stated that it had received the discovery, Young was never brought in the room or seen on the screen.

The next court date has been set for July 7th in CR5350 on the 0900hr docket call. This will be another 15 second proceeding in where the defense will inform the judge and the state whether or not it has had the time to read the discovery it was presented at the last court date.  Once that has been determined an announcement will be made regarding how the case will proceed.  I will check with some folks this week and next to make sure there are no surprises. If there are any changes or new information that is important I will be sure to pass along here and on the FLB Memorial Page.

After the July date it would make sense that there will be a plea hearing sometime in the fall.  At that point Young will have to enter a plea of guilty, or not.  If he admits the truth and his guilt a long trial will be avoided in trade for his execution. If he chooses the other entry, a long trial will most likely start in around a year, to a year and a half from now.  I think I speak for a few when I say that no matter what happens, the state has to guarantee that if Young admits his guilt or is convicted he has to spend the rest of his natural life incarcerated. Justice is in the hands of the people and we will be with this one all the way through...

Good News & Bad News

So, what do you want to hear first?  The good news, or the bad news?  Fine you bunch of dedicated optimists, I'll lay the good news on you now then I will move on to the bad news. 

The good news starts with a presently local fine art landscape photographer named Jeff Botz who I met in April of 2001.   In that first introduction on the second floor of Charlotte's main library I got the organic down load regarding the large format film project that Jeff had been working on since the seventies.  Botzie shoots with an 8 x 10 inch negative view camera high up in the mountains of Nepal and Tibet in an effort to capture the appearance and identity of the largest mountains in the world.  Years of experience, personal sacrifice and dedication to the collection of work has given him the opportunity to form an awareness understanding and true education of the region.

In addition to getting a crash course on his project that day he also let me know that Everest was not Everest at all.

 

Here is a scan of his huge poster supporting the show he put on at the Hickory Museum of Art in 2007.

He recently returned from Kathmandu where he had been since April setting up his first show at the Patan Museum and as well building a gallery housing his work that will run for five months in the Thamel section of the capital city.  Jeff had good successes on this trip and even more local people heard what he had to say about the true identity of the mountain.

The Himalayan Voice wrote a current article openly discussing Jeff's theory that for the sake of the dignity of not only the mountain, but the people of Nepal the mountain should return to its original name Sagarmatha (Mother Goddess Earth).  On the Tibetan side that would be Qomolangma, which I have heard translated to both Holy Mother, and The Stick that Turns the Universe.  I am very motivated and compelled to share with you this developing news about how one man staying true to his Dharma can  have such an impact on not only the people in the area, but the entire world.

I swiped this photo of Jeff working high up in the field from his Facebook page.


Now for the opposing bad news, which is actually a tragic event that took place on June 15 in Keene New Hampshire less than a week ago.  According to multiple sources including first hand witnesses, 58 year old Thomas James Ball walked up to the Cheshire County Courthouse on Wednesday evening, doused himself with gas then lit a match.  His suicide by immolation was planned, he left a 10,000 word essay outlining the reasons why he felt it necessary to take his own life.  You can read what little information is out there about this amazing event by starting here.

Of course I read what I could find, but I wasn't at all sure of what to believe considering that none of the normal sources I consider somewhat real had touched it.  Several 'news' agencies tried to make a comparison between America's response to Ball's self immolation, and the sparking of the very still present Arabic uprising in the not so far away Middle East when 26 year old Mohammed Bouazizi lit himself on fire after having his vegetable cart taken from him based on 'law' by the Tunisian Police.

Now, not forever ago past or an unattainable event in the future.  Right now.  Several things got my attention about this horrible event taking place in New Hampshire last week.  First, like Everest not being Everest, journalism is not journalism.  It is only a series of collective decoys from what is really happening at that exact same time.  Second and more importantly, in Thomas Ball's final post he observed that the United States was becoming a nation without laws.  He suggests that the government uses a second set of books which is a collection of policies, procedures and protocols that courts and executive agencies rely on.

Not knowing what truly brought Mr. Ball to his actions leaves me stunned and sad for any family members that he left behind in trade for what he believed.  This is a very real event which has set into motion cosmic projection not yet manifested. 

I grabbed this image of the Cheshire County Courthouse taped off from WMUR New Hampshire.

Feel it or Not, it is very real to me...

As you my lovely audience have recognized with your infinite wisdom and capacity to see the obvious, the posts here at the Traffic Stop have dried up as of late.  My will to write about what I see as true going on around me collided with the searing reality that I may not have the guts to do it.   A short list of recent actual events which have driven me to blog block comes to mind:  Radok's murder, the devastating larger than Haiti sized earthquake destruction in Japan, a new billion dollar presidential approved contract on war killing more innocents in Libya while we as a people keep up the rationalizations in the form of separating the physical reality from how we feel, the big win 'taking out' OBL, no jobs, yet there is plenty of work to do all around us, the connection between continent sized storms dropping huge fatal tornadoes out of the sky in the center of this fine nation and the amount of chaos we project globally with American made weapons in trade for it all.
 
I know, I know, if you don't read the paper, look at the news, or talk to some smart folks from Europe these items could easily be dismissed in the form of rationalization that the trade is worth it and its end result does not affect you.  My realization is different than most, has been since Christmas day when I was seven years old.   What I see happening right now is a direct connection between American made military weapons, the daily death of innocent lives of all ages and a nation desperate to keep that form of progress going infinitely into the forward future.  None of this causes me to live in fear or some sort of perceived state of unhappiness.  Like someone smart once told me when we were discussing how many people take corporate produced pharmaceuticals three times a day to achieve whatever grace they are seeking, "The cure for unhappiness, is happiness."  My time here cannot be spent chasing an ultimate goal of something as whimsical and unattached from what is really going on around me as happiness.

Self Portrait roughly 25 minutes before cracking, or better yet being cracked by Jwaye near the end of our 107 mile (173.4km) ride.

Besides the normal bike bound work and commute week, the past several weekends have been rather interesting on the ride front.  50 miles south of Charlotte, 75 miles (Spamerton), 107 miles of Smoot's best century, 77.5 miles east of here out of the house solo.

Notable points of interest:  These were all fixed gear rides.  The first three rides listed above were done with one other rider, Jwaye.  She is a crusher who has only been riding for a few months and while we were riding the 107, at mile 102 inbound on the other side of the airport she decided to destroy my will to live by opening it up on Wallace Neel.  As she pulled away I thought to myself, no way, she cannot have this in her.   Reaching into my man purse of courage I tried to stay on however there was only a little bit of lint in the bottom of the satchel.  My heart was well over 100bpm at 6hrs and 40 something minutes in.  Could I be about to have a massive heart attack?  Does Jwaye know CPR well enough to keep me alive until MEDIC can find me?  The tall Swede, some 15 years younger than I danced across the tarmac at 46x18 disappearing off the front of my view.  She had to be going 25mph, either that or I was down to a 4mph crawl.  Demoralized, with cement filled legs like I never remember experiencing, my life spark was squelched in the hot heat, but I had to keep going to finish the ride so I did.  My heart continued to leap inside my chest cavity creating a 3D hologram image of itself (the muscle that pumps life through my body) on the movie screen in the front of my mind.  It looked like it was alone speed lurching almost spasmodically inside the protection of my rib cage.  But then my mind and brain housing group befriended it making me feel more alive than I had been.  During that twenty minutes of the ride, time stopped completely.  I cannot ever remember being that cracked on my bike...

Self Portrait one week after the 107 mile cracking.  At the time I made this picture (75k into the 125) I was feeling great and recovered from the spanking I took earlier in the week. Yes, standard and metric talk can get slightly confusing to understand scale when used together, either way it is BIG and only math. 

*NOTE:  To those of you paying attention, I have (4) serviceable UXC jerseys left in my lycra drawer, and no, it is not the only jersey I own.  New clothes are for Canadians...


Last weekend's 125km solo effort wound up being a great recovery transfer.  The first 20km was with Stuckey before he took ill and had to turn around in the oppressive asphalt, my fault upper nineties heat.  Then, just over 105k alone with my body, mind and single speed machine.  Jerry's route that he had passed to me via email was beautiful.  There were rolling hill climbs that seemed innocuous compared to the ones I had faced in the previous weeks out west of town towards the foothills.  Crossing the formal Amish settlement that is Lentz Harness Shop Road was the highlight of the ride.  At the start tall pines lined the road on one side, and huge round hay bales dotted the open expanse of fields on the other.  Gentle climbs up a bit through the pastoral arena led to a turn near an old farmhouse.  Then, all of a sudden the road surface went to dirt.  Yes, dirt.  Nothing lifts the spirits on a long road ride alone like hitting an unexpected section of dirt, nothing.  Goody, I thought to myself as I looked out ahead seeing the gray ribbon of hard packed dirt roll over the green landscape in front of me disappearing at the visible horizon several thousand meters away. 

Those long minutes in the saddle draw my attention to how important living in the now actually is...

Picture of the Week

This creature died in my presence today.  The eyes are amazing and look as if they have human characteristics and sad elderly quality under the green glassy orb.  Manual Nikor 55mm macro lens in full sun. 

Credit Check

This image has been my header for the past week until being replaced by the self portrait that I made last year in July, the last time I had a haircut (or any of them for that matter).  Several people have contacted me saying that the image is a genuine likeness of yours truly and the shot's clarity in composition truly reflects how they see me when in person.  Credit should go when it is due and in this case the one who made the snap was Shannon Lechner, a photography student and apprentice.  She was using my camera under her manual control (with my add vice) and the old 55mm portrait lens.  I edited the original a bit with crop, black & white effect and a slight contrast adjustment.  For whatever reason, I really like this shot of myself and I do not say that often.

 This one I used the other day to introduce my immediate reaction to the news that sent millions of Americans in the opposite direction of what I was feeling.  Through the trees the sun burst the day before in my out back yard.  It is a completely lucky shot held still and changed only with black & white, contrast and a touch of highlight.  The burst in the sun is how the lens sent it to the reader, 16 million points of light radiating from the center.  A star apparent. 

Closure only comes by letting go.

Of course some folks are starting to say that it is already old 'news', however the implications of the announcement that Osama bin (not ibn) Laden has been swept off the face of the earth will reverberate forever.  As in this second of time the changes are in motion, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  The other basic principal of science proven time again states that two people can look at the same object from opposing sides and see two completely different things. Every single day I walk and ride across the surface of this spinning planet those two basic theories reveal themselves honestly and without a veil. 

You are about to read a document that I consider absolutely brilliant for its simplicity and accurate description of the cultural response to the death of the co-founder of al-Qaeda.  There is a possibility that this post will become AI'd and disappear from your cortex.  The only truth is that my intention is to transfer to you the peaceful response of understanding and feeling what is really going on around us.   Even though you may consider 'it' over your head and out of your con troll, your connection to this insanity in the now is organically connected to its manifestation. 

Online page with links can be read here.
From Peter Joseph & Zeitgeist:

On May 1, 2011 Pres. Barack Obama appeared on national television with the
spontaneous announcement that Osama bin Laden, the purported organizer of
the tragic events of September 11th 2001, was killed by military forces in
Pakistan.


Within moments, a media blitz ran across virtually all television networks
in what could only be described as a grotesque celebratory display,
reflective of a level of emotional immaturity that borders on cultural
psychosis. Depictions of people running through the streets of New York and
Washington chanting jingoistic American slogans, waving their flags like
the members of some cult, praising the death of another human being,
reveals yet another layer of this sickness we call modern society.


It is not the scope of this response to address the political usage of such
an event or to illuminate the staged orchestration of how public perception
was to be controlled by the mainstream media and the United States
Government. Rather the point of this article is to express the gross
irrationality apparent and how our culture becomes so easily fixed and
emotionally charged with respect to surface symbology, rather than true
root problems, solutions or rational considerations of circumstance.


The first and most obvious point is that the death of Osama bin Laden means
nothing when it comes to the problem of international terrorism. His death
simply serves as a catharsis for a culture that has a neurotic fixation on
revenge and retribution. The very fact that the Government which, from a
psychological standpoint, has always served as a paternal figure for it
citizens, reinforces the idea that murdering people is a solution to
anything should be enough for most of us to take pause and consider the
quality of the values coming out of the zeitgeist itself.


However, beyond the emotional distortions and tragic, vindictive pattern of
rewarding the continuation of human division and violence comes a more
practical consideration regarding what the problem really is and the
importance of that problem with respect to priority.


The death of any human being is of an immeasurable consequence in society.
It is never just the death of the individual. It is the death of
relationships, companionship, support and the integrity of familial and
communal environments. The unnecessary deaths of 3000 people on September
11, 2001 is no more or no less important than the deaths of those during
the World Wars, via cancer and disease, accidents or anything else.


As a society, it is safe to say that we seek a world that strategically
limits all such unnecessary consequences through social approaches that
allow for the greatest safety our ingenuity can create. It is in this
context that the neurotic obsession with the events of September 11th, 2001
become gravely insulting and detrimental to progress. An environment has
now been created where outrageous amounts of money, resources and energy is
spent seeking and destroying very small subcultures of human beings that
pose ideological differences and act on those differences through violence.


Yet, in the United States alone each year, roughly 30,000 people die from
automobile accidents, the majority of which could be stopped by very simple
structural changes. That’s ten 9/11′s each year… yet no one seems to pine
over this epidemic. Likewise, over 1 million Americans die from heart
disease and cancer annually – causes of which are now easily linked to
environmental influences in the majority. Yet, regardless of the over 330
9/11′s occurring each year in this context, the governmental budget
allocations for research on these illnesses is only a small fraction of the
money spent on “anti-terrorism” operations.


Such a list could go on and on with regard to the perversion of priority
when it comes to what it means to truly save and protect human life and I
hope many out there can recognize the severe imbalance we have at hand with
respect to our values.


So, coming back to the point of revenge and retribution, I will conclude
this response with a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., likely the most
brilliant intuitive mind when it came to conflict and the power of
non-violence. On September 15, 1963 a Birmingham Alabama church was bombed,
killing four little girls attending Sunday school.


In a public address, Dr. King stated:


“What murdered these four girls? Look around. You will see that many
people that you never thought about participated in this evil act. So
tonight all of us must leave here with a new determination to struggle. God

We can’t save the soul of this nation throwing bricks. We can’t save the
soul of this nation getting our ammunitions and going out shooting physical
weapons. We must know that we have something much more powerful. Just take
up the ammunition of love.”


- Dr. Martin Luther King, 1963 -
~Peter Joseph

NYT CORRECTION

Were swaying, not just swaying, I'm just saying.

I'm Wide Awake in a Fake Empire

The real question is, what else is happening right now? Do not swing and miss at the curve ball they are throwing you, the illusion of a win is simply that, brace yourself and feel what is going on around us with an open heart.

Remember when the river flowed up the mountain?

Zoo the other afternoon through the old 105mm.

This morning I woke up to a text message and a voice mail, both inquiring if I had heard about the auto hit and run fatality of a human on a bike at 0551hrs near the South End.  According to a local news source, the death by vehicle happened predawn on Poindexter Drive near the intersection of Lawndale Road.  The victim was Carl Hedrick, a 29 year old who was apparently visiting some friends in Charlotte.   After running over the victim, the car driver hit the gas in a conscious effort to run from the truth that he or she created, while two people could do nothing but watch their friend die of traumatic injuries.  The car, which has been described as an older light colored Toyota Corolla or Tercel with front damage was last seen headed towards South Boulevard.  If you have any information because you are connected to the incident or just searched the cloud over Hong Kong looking for insight, please do what is natural and contact CMPD Detective Kevin Allred of the Major Crash Unit at 704.432.2169. 

Seems like I have feelings that are not yet thoughts about this latest cycling related death by auto in Charlotte. In the now, the time that I spend riding my bike for the Monday through Friday daily continues to fill my senses with the authenticity of the experience.  While remaining car contact free for the past seven years or so, I never stop thinking about the catastrophic potential energy transfer that could happen if I wind up in front of one from any angle accelerating towards my human form.  Just yesterday I was rolling a Saturday Stay Alive into the big buildings to guide 13 riders on a 'Beginners' bike tour of the downtown Charlotte area.  It is a route that I am very familiar with, and the closer to town I get, the more options I have to ride a variety of quiet neighborhood streets that all take me to the same destination.

The gentle climb up McClintock Road in the cool morning air under a cloudless saturated blue sky reminded me of some place I had been a long time ago.  Random vibrant green topped old hardwoods stood tall up the long sloping landscape, their big round canopies weren't there a month ago and now they were swaying lightly in the early breeze.  Rolling by the big church, I thought about going left towards Commonwealth but quickly changed my mind.  For whatever reason, this morning I stayed straight with my back to the sun on McClintock for the Plaza on the flat up over the hill. 

At ten meters and closing for the stop sign at the Plaza I started slowing down knowing that this can be a precarious intersection to cross.  Straight through the intersection I take a gravel parking lot alley to Thomas Street for more options.   Most mornings I have to come to a complete stop because of Plaza commuter car cross traffic, but on a Saturday it felt and was quiet.  Except for one, one potential killer in a small brown colored sports car coming down the Plaza from way of Central accelerating for a quick turn onto McClintock towards my space, on my side of the stop sign.  Yes, at that point in time it was mine.

Slowing the gear still not at the sign but life alarmed, and looking into the approaching windscreen I saw the dark driver's large white eyeballs as he realized he was cutting a corner.  His eyes looked surprised, not aware or paying attention at all.  A prevalent condition of the auto culture of this fine city.  My intuition in complete survival mode not wanting a head on crash at this speed, screamed at him something that I do not remember.  He was cutting it so close to his left that there was no where and time space for me to go.  Either his intuition kicks in by simultaneously widening his turn right (he had plenty of room, which is where he should have been in the first place) and letting off the gas, or he is going to hit me head on and cause a serious problem.

I leaned right, and he came about wider at speed, we missed by a meter before I even made it to the right edge of the white stop line.  There I held up for a second turning to see if he had stopped and was wanting to discuss the matter at hand.  Oh yeah, his eyes, his car, his presence in the now are all dead giveaways that he did not give one shit about what had just really happened.  My heart rate was up a bit until I made it to Pecan, then the quiet street settled me down with the understanding of how comfortable I felt right then.  Tomorrow morning I will go through that spot again, as I will many times forward future.  

Condolences to the family and friends of Carl Hedrick, I am very saddened to hear about his death this morning.  For anyone who reads this post and is actively following the two wheeled path, please be careful and watch the place that you put your machine and human form, this town is as dangerous as any other American metro and that is not a joke.  Like someone smart once tried to instill in me, make every ride count...

Falsetto to Tenor

Amazing, unlike anything, especially if you were there in New Haven in 1987 only a few feet deep.  I want to go here, and recon I will soon while the borders still remain open.

All Hail The Hackerspace Charlotte, Plus Image/Dumb Move of the Week

So, something sort of unexpected is happening right now, thank my internal being that I gave up expectations when I was seven years old.  This unforeseen chance is the end result of a thought made transfer with communication and honesty from one individual to another.  Many of you know that an article was written by Karen Sullivan of the Charlotte Observer (which Cedar lovingly refers to as: the wet thing at the end of the driveway) on the Hackerspace's donation of time effort in providing 6 of the ten laptops thus far delivered to Haiti via the Laptop Round Up for the Real. 

Well, what was so unexpected was the amount of folks from the greater Charlotte area who contacted us wanting to make a donation, or as most of the cases donations from this one article printed Sunday.  Here is the math as of right now according to the high speed encrypted message board that the Treasurer of the Hackerspace set up for the project:  Twenty humans have made contact with 38 machines total for the project.  As you already know, we have delivered 10 operating Laptops to Haiti as of a few weeks ago.  Previous to the article being in the paper, there are 4 machines in the hole awaiting delivery to the not so far away place. 4 of the 38 have already been brought by the Hackerspace hideout by Bill (not me, another Bill), Peter and his daughter Katie.  Thank you HSCLT and those of you who became motivated to get a hold of us this week.

Now comes the challenge that I never planned for, yet somehow I feel prepared to handle.  There are 34 machines in the county that need to be picked up and warehoused. Once in a safe place which is looking like between my studio here at the ranch and the Hackerpsace's hideout, they will be inventoried and scheduled over the next few months for repair.  This is really exciting and leading me to believe that I should form a small delegation willing to travel with me to Haiti soon.  The idea would be that we would each be carrying with us computers to be put on the ground there. 

In the meantime, the Hackerspace Charlotte is offering an open door Friday night during the North Davidson (No Duh) gallery crawl.  The shop will be open to the public and all y'all are encouraged to stop by and say hello, even if you do not have laptop to give.  Word is that there will be an adult beverage available and you can check out not only their newest CNC machine, but as well that crazy thing that makes lightening.  No tease, you will feel alive once you set foot, or feet into their space, the Hackerspace. 

The location: 430 East 36th Street, Charlotte.  After you cross Davidson on 36th, just before the first set of tracks, go left around the side of the building and look for the wooden stairs seen above in the image I made this afternoon while looking for my long lost (since Tuesday night) glove.  In case you were wondering I wound up finding it as I re-rode my route home the other night.  Amazingly enough I found my glove at the 4800 block of Shamrock balled up, and soaking wet.  I hate when I loose gear, but love when I find it a few days later after thinking about how the search would play out.  For the past few days I have felt like Michael Jackson, now that I have both of my gloves, that feeling should dissipate. 
                    
For those of you who missed this little tidbit on my Faceliftbook Page, enjoy, and ask to be my 'friend', that way you will get the sneak peeks.  If I knew who you were, I would surely ask to be yours!

Sunday night I injured myself while cooking St. Lissa's and my 19th pre-anniversary diner, that's right diner celebration. The fork had been in the hot grill for many minutes when I picked it up to stick the French Dijon yum bit in need of a test. Then the fork touched my tongue making a loud searing sound branding it deep. Happy Anniversary.

Tongue Con Report:  Four days later, my tongue is almost completely healed.  The only problem is tasting stuff is hampered, I feel like I have the palate of a 5th grader...

Blogcation, all I ever wanted. Blogcation, had to get away. Blogcation, meant to be spent alone...

Apologies from the headquarters of Rock and Roll Stop the Traffic regarding my unannounced two and a half week blogcation.   Fortunately for both you and I, the time was well spent sleeping in and concentrating on a few other side projects that I find myself compelled to be part of.  There is so much more that I have to say and share visually with you, my lovely audience.  In time I will crawl out of this block and be posting more regularly once again.

Until then, check out this brilliant piece of work that the Charlotte Observer's Karen Sullivan posted in today's online version as well as the printed Sunday paper edition.  In the past few hours I have been privy of the response via my ubiquitous contact at Hackerspace Charlotte.  Charlotte North Carolina is helping, the emails are coming in with plenty of folks willing to donate laptop machines.  Details, and numbers will be out soon.  My former background in and passion for logistics will be quite useful in the near future.

Thank you to all of those who have made a contribution thus far.  As well thanks to the Charlotteans who have emailed today with new donations. And of course, none of this would be happening without the braintrust that is Hackerpsace.

Click here to read the online edition or simply scroll down:

 

Hackers reach out to help Haitian school

Hackerspace Charlotte is restoring laptops to send to a grade school.

By Karen Sullivan
ksullivan@charlotteobserver.com

Posted: Sunday, Mar. 27, 2011

Slideshow

« Prev of 2 Next »

• 
  The refurbished laptops are sent to a public grade school in Barbancourt, Haiti. COURTESY BILL FEHR
• 
  Charlotte Hackerspace member Ryan Stachurski, center, works with other members of the group at its lab in a former textile mill. COURTESY RYAN STACHURSKI

More Information

• Laptops wanted
  Hackerspace Charlotte is looking for outdated or broken laptops that can be repaired and sent to school children who have little or no access to technology. Leave a message at www.hackerspacecharlotte.org to make a donation.

Hackers often get a bad rap.
They're often known for breaching computer systems or leaking sensitive information.
Members of Hackerspace Charlotte, an open lab space, want to show the positive side of being creative, independent and tech-savvy. They built five laptops from scrap heaps, cleaned them up and donated them earlier this month to a public grade school in Barbancourt, Haiti.


Now the group is taking donations of working and fixable laptops for a second gift to the school, where most children have never used a computer."It has the potential to do a world of good," Hackerspace Charlotte Treasurer Ryan Stachurski said. "If you have children growing up without technology, that is an essential part of life in this day and age, they're going to have a very significant disadvantage."


The project, called Laptop Round Up for the Real, started when Charlotte blogger Bill Fehr visited the rural community of Barbancourt and toured its grade school. More than 200 children attend the rural school, located about two hours north of Port-au-Prince.


Fehr asked the school's principal what he could bring on his next visit that might help the children. The answer: 15 laptops.Fehr would like to send even more laptops. He wrote about his goal on his blog, whereonearthisbill.blogspot.com.


Members of Hackerspace Charlotte responded.The group celebrated its grand opening in December last year in a former mill property in the North Davidson Street arts district.Its 30 members pay a fee to share the lab. The space allows them to move their personal projects off their dining room tables and into a community of like-minded people.They also can work together on charitable projects such as this one.


Members have backgrounds in engineering, information security, corporate management, woodworking, experimental art and other areas. About eight members helped with the laptop project. They found laptops and hard drives at Southern Resources, a scrap metal processing and recycling operation that's also in the arts district.


The volunteers rebuilt hardware, fixed power supplies by hand, erased the hard drives and installed the Ubuntu operating system.A member of the Haitian American Association of the Carolinas delivered the equipment to the school.


"We've repurposed this trash and put it into use," Stachurski said.
"It wasn't very difficult, it was being persistent. The technical part of putting things together is what we excel at."

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Read more: http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2011/03/27/2169270/hackers-reach-out-to-help-haitian.html#ixzz1Hon3gxuv