Shedding a Tear for my Korg

First Monday without a day job. Hardly noticed, there’s so much to do! We shipped some ebay sales – the big sad ones. The Korg x50 keyboard and the Roland SPD-S drum machine/sampler. The thing I liked best about the Korg was its portability, and Dad bought it for me because I planned to travel with it. I feel guilty – and actually rather cheated – that I’ve only used it such a short while and I’m already selling it. But portable isn’t quite the same as take-me-hiking, and I know we’re guaranteed to be drenched by a monsoon rain sooner or later. My most pragmatic side came to the conclusion that a month or two of living expenses was better than a soaked and ruined keyboard. But I did shed a hint of a tear.

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Preparing to prepare to make some preparations…

I’m not telling the truth, of course. We’ve made dozens, nay, hundreds of decisions, arrangements, reservations, purchases, sales…you know, preparations. But going to India with a backpack and a computer bag, with no intention of ever coming back to the US…it’s a lot of work. It’s not so much because we have a lot of stuff. We lived on boats for eight years, and we did our biggest purge until now when first moving aboard. James and I both had significant book collections, and selling my bachelor’s degree in English Literature’s worth of books was heart-rending. Moving from that boat to a smaller boat was easy in comparison, and mostly consisted of purging our oldest, hole-iest, and most worked-in clothing. We kept all of the tools. So right now, looking around my life, it seems pretty damn spartan. I see a dull green and maroon plaid loveseat that is so pathetic that my dad refused to take it when he moved into his new place. I see a scratchy red covered chair with laminated wooden D-shapes that form the arm-leg combos. I see a bookshelf, almost completely empty. And I see so much random junk. We packed up a huge suitcase with everything that we want kept safe but don’t want to take along. We’ll be sending that to James’ brother, Larry. And that means that everything else I see – every single thing – will either be packed in my backpack and lugged all over India, or it’s junk. And I see a lot of junk. Don’t get me wrong – there’s some good junk. I have a sex toy collection that, even with the unsanitizables thrown away, nearly fills one entire hiking-style backpack. I really hope that someone wants it. We have small, tightly packed, much prized hordes[…]

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Sovereign Nations!?

Well, I have heard that there is civilization in India. Being as though I’ve never actually been to India (Only seen it in 100’s of Bollywood Movies- WOW!) I have heard it from some pretty good sources that there just might be a civilization on that side of this planet. Existentially speaking I only have second hand information for conformation of the aforementioned rhetoric. Never been there myself… So, off to India to discover civilization like a proper Sovereign Nation. Sometimes Sovereign Nations travel in pares. Sometimes Sovereign Nations Go it alone. I hear that they can sometimes travel in millions Cursus Haud Praesidens. ?Billions? I guess we’ll find out.

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Life on Mars

So this is life on Mars? You see, on Earth we go to the movies and drive allot. On Mars we get to watch the sunset on the Arabian Sea on Marivel Beach in Goa, India. On Earth we’ll kill each other off wholesale for a viscus fluid eked from the bowels of the host. On Mars we can travel a free and opened planet with no borders. On Earth you can only do that if your white. On Mars over the next 12 months She and I will discover the Earth and make her better anyway we can. …Off to Mars then, August 12,2008

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Edwin…

Through a 13th floor window a cold January wind whispers a story. A story of a top hat made of silk, a pen that scratches on paper and of a man for whom life has taken its turn. But the wind also whispers of other stories as well, it tells the tales of freeloaders that ride on the wind, the unseeables, the histories of all that have whispered before. The whispers have desires unto themselves apart from the top hat made of silk and the man but very much in collusion with the scratch, scratch, scratching of the pen. The unseeables much like the man and the top hat made of silk are in search of the one thing that can translate them from the abstract to the idea, from the idea to the man, from the man to the pen, from the pen to the scratching. Just as the pen desires the paper, the top hat made of silk desires the head of the man for whom life’s turn has been taken, the whispers unseen desire the same thing that they all so desperately need; a receiver.“Howard…” If, a receiver is merely a vessel intended for the specific purpose of receiving a transmitted message then the medium of transmission isn’t only a vector for the message but is in fact a message within the message and the man for whom life has taken its turn at this particular juncture is nothing more then a transmitter. Transmitters and receivers. The man for whom life has taken its turn looks up from the scratchity-scratch of his pen on the paper to the opened 13th floor window and receives the cold January wind upon his face, he pauses, takes a long look at the top hat made of silk then resumes his[…]

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Why are you going to India?

That is the most popular question in my life right now. I hear it every time I tell another person why I’ve quit my job, why I don’t need a “get the 10th coffee free” card, why I don’t want to join the Blockbuster monthly plan. At REC Silicon, where I was working with the Expansion team, listing all of the spare parts for a new silicon plant (that’s a lot of parts), I had already given notice that I was leaving at the beginning of July. When James and I decided that it was a bad idea to spend $5000 driving to and getting settled on the East Coast, it was because we could spend $2000 getting to India, and then $200-$500 a month, living fat. And if the whole point of staying in the US was to build up funds for traveling, we were on the wrong track. I asked if they would like me to stick around another few weeks and the answer was a resounding yes. And over the next few weeks, I heard a dozen people tell me that they’d pick New England over India any day. I’m still flabbergasted. Yeah – regional flavor is an interesting thing, and I’m glad I’ve lived in several parts of the US, but wow. What’s wrong with India? “It’s a third-world country. Need I say more?” “Isn’t there a lot of violence there?” “You could catch some deadly disease.” “So many poor people…” Et cetera, et cetera. I want to know where these people think they’re living. Where can’t you catch some deadly disease? How many people did I know who spent 50-70% of their income to live in closets in San Francisco? How much violence do they think happens in the US? I’m really concerned about the[…]

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