struct
Apr 18, 2015 @ 11:16 am

cellar ag coming together fast. the little cupola is a headspace into which to wench some light.

CAM02463


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ag
Apr 16, 2015 @ 5:45 pm

have begun an ag project today. I built some of the framing today. it’s on.

I’m going to leave the splinter in my hand. it’s so deep I can barely feel it.


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go w
Apr 11, 2015 @ 7:27 pm

I peeled off te scab ofthe downstairs. cleaned 3 windows. moved books around a bit. moved a plant. so it’s the lake house now. I’m just sitting here. I let the air through. I sit in the air. it’s a more visually rich environment down here. it was strange in the cupola. not bad exactly. I let the music through. in the cupola I only listened to lee perry and really just one album. blackboard jungle. and some of the songs on the album are essentially remixes of one another. so you see. all the ways of partying where they go in the upper hedge. but I like it nearer the lake. I dusted a little. all the high value dust. and like I said, three strategically important windows. I think it’s the first I’ve ever washed these windows. I was sure of that until I began washing them and then I had deja vu so. I did walk around. outside. it was nice. what I decided, my hobby is washing the windows. I’m on the downstairs laptop which I’ve not used much since I settled upstairs. the accoustics down here are really interesting. I like it. so many interesting things to look at.
I’ve been a wage earner.
a sometimes shut in, but I’m going with things. I’m ok with things in a way. and it’s really nice down here. I’m still fascinated by this house especially the windows in the downstairs front room. one could say anything is a trap tho some things probably trappier. spring time is a positive yet again.


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the tru
Apr 05, 2015 @ 11:53 am

a lot of people have been asking themselves, what is the truth? spring is pretty reliable. I notice my escapism. some of it is work. some of it is analysing data. if I have some data to analyse, I am safe, at least until it comes time to try to spell analyse. then I have a nagging feeling that my spell checker might be british or american. but language is organic and proceeds by mistakes, so this is a misplaced concern.

since nica, I have been… I don’t know. how would I know. I would say, ok. in some ways very intact. no acute dramas in my direct self. of course one always knows some people who are having acute dramas, real high-stakes things involving loss of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. and the membranes are permeable in a way but in another way my body is loose in the world, quite apart from others’. I think about the fact that there is still such a thing as privacy. it is possible to do things that no one else knows about. excepting scenarios involving aliens and nano-drones. some could argue that there is already no privacy due to the time travelling nano-drones. things are already happening, near me but privately from me. the nano drones built a one centimetre replica of my entire home and hid it in the wall. even when the power is out it keeps whirring there in the wall. so far only one arthropod has seen it.

sometimes, in my privacy, I do very little to affect the wider world. at other times I talk on the phone or do things that might result in portable products that I then bring to the wider world. or things occur that I then discuss with the wider world and in that way have some effect. but often I make no products. I work, tho. I do various things in my profesh and non profesh life that affect the WWW. tho lately I do very little outside of my profesh life that affects the WWW.

there is a pleasant short term profesh project underway. good work if you can get it. in conclusion, the springtime. residents are advised to carry a fire blanket. I’ve turned off my heat and opened windows, reasoning that it’s not projected to drop much below 45 during the next week or so, and I no longer have a bird. I can put on layers. it will probably never be lower than the high 50s inside. high 50s in the morning and 70 in the evening. much like miraflor, where hot drinks in the morning really matter, and you put a folded blanket on your plastic chair and use your raincoat hood.


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wqeqwef
Mar 27, 2015 @ 3:48 pm

I’ve become a 58 year old white man. it’s actually not that big of a reach. I was already white, male and roughly middle aged.

I woke up in the middle of the night. the power was out. I lit a candle, wrote in a notebook and had a small party.

indeterminate toward spring.

some disconnectedness.

in my immediatest nook, no major external tragedies.


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qwfqb wtrmw
Mar 20, 2015 @ 7:45 pm

saudis want cash. we can know for sure they want to make as much money as possible. but they recognize they aren’t going to sell all their oil. on a certain level they just want to sell as much of it as possible almost irrespective of price. they’re not wasting money right now. the oil they’re selling cheap is just oil on the back end that they were never going to sell. oil will stop selling when there is a cheaper way to do everything it does. and inevitably oil will get expensive enough to extract so that it can’t compete with replacements. at that point there will still be a lot of oil in the ground. the saudis don’t want it to be their oil in the ground at that point, any more than necessary. they might be content to sell the rest of their oil at the break-even point for US shale. or just keep the price around that point just to make it no fun to be in the shale business. though I’m not sure they’ll be able to shut down the whole US shale business. eventually by attrition they perhaps could. as exporation budgets flicker.
two nights on the farm. solar. modern bucket flushing toilet. old farm dogs. farm cats. farmswomen and men. farmscows and farmsrabbits. very nice. long hikes with my guide nelson. good food. all veg. chilly at night, but in a good way. sleeping outside, in a concrete room, corrugated roof, gaps between roof and wall. not the best mattress but somehow it worked. slept at 8 each night. slept a lot. and a little in the afternoons.


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pushes
Mar 13, 2015 @ 7:07 pm

A bit of luffing and doubt here in mata. But very recent thoughts of a last push into esteli and miraflor. Sleep plan:
14 – esteli
15 – miraflor
16 – miraflor
17 – esteli / la trinidad
18 – airplane

Or possibly all the way to miraflor tmw if i splurge on some kind of shuttle.

It should shake me up a bit.


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djwnzizjshd
Mar 13, 2015 @ 12:52 am

A little jammed. when i most have a grip slash something is when i roll into a new town. I notice im in one of those phases where i just mean to pass the days. Sorta. I give myself some permission to do so. To some extent im just a person who lives here right now. Matagalpa, since yesterday. Estelli next.

Surely the best thing so far was my visit with the family on ometeppe. It saved the trip. Saved me. The parents waved to me, a couple days later, as i walked off toward the boat, past their povre campus. i realized that wasnt her dad i had asked to help me, but perhaps some other relation, like a much older brother. Huge family. Seven kids. Or so. The dad was indeed there, tho, as i left for the dock. He waved and seemed to have been told about me. He gave a friendly grunt from 20 paces. I recognized him from one of the fotos i’d been shown. It was early. Maybe 6. He sat heavily on his bench, leaning back against the mud brick (?) wall fronting the one-room building that i think comprised their entire indoors. He appeared drunk, but that’s very unlikely. his thick red/brown torso was bare, just like in the foto.

When i had peered inside the shack during my visit, i couldnt make sense of the disorganized piles of things inside. I dont know where they all sleep. I’m imagining maybe some hammocks among some trees behind the shack. I had the thought that they might sleep on chairs, strange thought. Perhaps just in the open air, under something to stop the rain.
I wasnt especially defensive, considering the vast difference between theirs and my exigencies. But i wasnt fully trusting. Who could be. I thought maybe there would be a catch. Whether it be a request for funds, or some health hazard. Bed bugs or something. A stomach ailment. With hindsight i know i could have spent more time there and had more of a tour of the grounds. The mother would have been very happy, and totally at ease, showing me anything and everything about the place. But it was a lot to process all at once, considering, on the walk there, i thought they could plausibly be angry about my keeping any company with their daughters, age 12 and 16. Their unqualified hospitality is most likely not a universal feature of the culture, but is probably no extreme rarity either. Obvs families vary here, as anywhere. i did have enough presence of mind to not rush my exit… to realize that their clock might be more accommodating than my American one, and the expenditure of a few hours no great… expense. I could have easily had a meal there, perhaps at my peril given that my body might not handle their bugs as well as theirs do. Or i could have had lunch at the hotel and returned. They invited me to do so. In any case im sure many gringos wouldnt have accepted the initial invite at all, so. The girl programatically asked some questions almost as if it were part of a school assignment, which it may partly have been. And then informed me, with her characteristic assertiveness, that it was now time for me to ask her questions. At that point i froze a bit, and could not think of a single question . Tho prior to that i had asked some. Presently i just wonder about their sleep furniture and arrangements generally. I did give the girl my email address. She asked for facebook, but i told her my name was so common she couldnt find me that way. And explained that noone else in the world had my same email address. She had some trouble with that concept. I think there’s a slight chance i might hear from her, and then can ask my additional questions. But she barely understood email, and seemed to think that it cost money, while facebook did not. She understood bluetooth but not email. She wore a hawaiian print shirt.


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hdchandbh
Mar 09, 2015 @ 7:33 pm

I haven’t had a good night of sleep since DC. My body is a bit ill from it and prone to mood swings. My brain is cloudy but with occasional runs of high functioning. I love where I am. I get out of bed each morning and it’s warm, bright, beautiful, breezy and I say to myself, try again. Last night is sunk. It starts today. Deep breath. Not injured in any accute sense. Not in jail. I feel good at some points every day. I laugh like a crazy person. I’m not able to read. I have a fantastic, basic, good-sized room in an empty pink 4-plex on a sandy beach. With a hammock porch and, 30 paces away, a very good restaurant. The staff are smart, worldly, attentive and not too attentive, not insecure. No one asks how long I will stay. No other travelers within a 45-minute walk except a group of French seniors. For cleaning, the children drag the pig into the lake by a leash. There is a kind of rabbit-sized nocturnal beach toad. A horse has lost its keys in the sand, and the others help look. A young girl warns me of the crocodiles and takes me to her family. To her father I say, help! I say I am 40. She says I am 30. I say I am 40. She says I am 30. I say I am 40. She says I am 30. Her mother wants to see my mother. Her sister paints a barbie. She shows me her elephant, crocodile and dolphin. She tells me to buy her a soda. So does her mom. She throws a rock to knock down some fruit. She gives me salt for the fruit. I put the salt in my hat. I tell them the english in their bible is old. I show them the dates in the front. I translate a verse into present-day english. Her mom is illiterate but shows me her magnifying glasses. She likes to see the words. I play them Burning Spear, David Byrne, Johnny Cash, Gillian Welch. I translate Burning Spear and they translate David Byrne. I tell them about Abraham Lincoln. She shows me how to use Bluetooth.


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sen craig
Mar 09, 2015 @ 7:28 pm

Written yeaterday: I am here. I went to this place now. It’s good. I like it. It’s very good. Breezes, my hammock is on the line between my porch and my beach. I hear surf and a mellow latino family a few paces to my back. I had a very good dinner over there. I get my sweater. There is just nothing. I’m a bird asleep. I like the grey cloud. It is dusk. I take off my shoes. This place is perfect. There is no pressure. They don’t say, maybe you should go to a museum. I’m new here. They don’t know me. Just got here today. On foot. It’s near charco Verde. I walked up the carreterra to get here. I walked here last year from charcoal Verde and decided not to stay. Went back to charco, That time. But this time I have another look and stay. The vibe, as they say, suits me just right. It is like a miniature less pretentious version of charco. Basic and/but has all the right features. A bit of lizard poo. I am happy. Chill within a chill. Finally. In charco there was too much help. They were better than apoyo, certainly. But here there is a relaxed sophistication about the young help. They don’t need anything. I love them. They are not going to ask me where i’m from, etc. But they are awake and pleasant, an intelligent restaurant. Same business as the hotel, so I walk away from a meal when done. We don’t discuss arrangements. They saw me stop walking at the barbed wire and told me that’s just for the horses. I can keep going. It’s not privado . They understand. The dogs are well fed but still sociable. The mellow mutt has wandered over. Along the beach. Around me and gone. They have the best densest batidas. The mellow family was day tripping. They got back in their pickup and left. I miss them. I don’t know how I’m going to leave this place. I walked maybe 30-40 minutes to get here and it’s a different culture. More worldly. But they still play Bryan Adams. I hope that’s not a comment on me. They have here a vaulted thatched roof above the dining area and in it hangs several full sized country flags. But no USA. Thanks for that. The other tourists here today were a group of older French people. And the one local family of day trippers. I might be able to sleep here. The WiFi sucks and I don’t mind. I don’t have internet near my cabana. Perhaps good. They showed me a small patch of land outside the kitchen where one can usually pick up a very slow and intermittent WiFi connect, sufficient to download emails or post a blog post. Of crs, if I had a pipe I’d smoak it, but that is not the order of the day. Because it isn’t. There is a kind of nocturnal beach rabbit here that I wouldn’t know exists if I hadn’t just seen one from my hammock. It blends in well with the charcoal color and the shape of the lumps of sand on the beach at night. Hard to see it when it stops hopping, but it caught my eye while in motion, before stopping again. I stared at it a while wondering if it was a rabbit or a large toad. When it resumed hopping, it seemed more rabbit than toad. Maybe neither. It is a funny thing to see an animal in the wild that one has never seen in … oh dear, I stand corrected. I see another. It is in fact a rabbit-sized toad. There is another. Quite large and possessing a peculiar gait and proportions. For a toad, it runs as much as it hops. Its hind parts don’t work quite like those of frogs or toads I’ve seen. There is a bit of walking mixed in with each hop, somehow. It is top heavy, with a large head. I will inquire with the staff. It’s not a furry thing. It has a wide stance, along the lines of Senator Craig.


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