Conversation topics as indicators of quality

Thursday, September 16th, 2010 @ 4:49pm

I have been think­ing about the fol­low­ing quote a fair bit recently:

Great minds dis­cuss ideas; aver­age minds dis­cuss events; small minds dis­cuss people.

– var­i­ously attrib­uted to Eleanor Roosevelt, Hyman G. Rickover, or anonymously

Since hav­ing come across the quote, I have found myself group­ing social inter­ac­tions by whether the dis­cus­sions are pri­mar­ily of ideas, events, or peo­ple. Near invari­ably, I have found the inter­ac­tions involv­ing dis­cus­sions of ideas are stim­u­lat­ing, inter­est­ing, and enjoy­able; whereas, sim­i­larly, dis­cus­sions of peo­ple – in the absence of sociological/anthropological/psychological analy­sis, which blurs the line between peo­ple and ideas – tend to feel hol­low and vapid.

At present, I have really only got­ten to the point of notic­ing the con­nec­tions, and fre­quently only so notic­ing in ret­ro­spect. I have not, as yet, found a prac­ti­cal appli­ca­tion for this knowledge.

Practical, or not, I do feel that it is fan­tas­ti­cally inter­est­ing to seek cor­re­la­tions between my enjoy­ment of inter­ac­tions and the under­ly­ing class/topic of discussion.

HDCP Master Key

Tuesday, September 14th, 2010 @ 10:39am

Apparently some­one man­aged to reverse engi­neer the HDCP Master Key. Since I so firmly believe in the free­dom of dig­i­tal infor­ma­tion, I have mir­rored the key on my blog.

The key involves an awful lot of text so it is mir­rored below the jump:

Read the rest of this entry »

Painting: Round 1

Friday, September 10th, 2010 @ 11:37am

Having been inspired by an artist friend of mine, I have taken up paint­ing as a hobby. I am, as yet, still hor­ri­bly out of prac­tice at art, lack­ing skill in the pro­duc­tion of art, and incred­i­bly slow, but I am hav­ing a won­der­ful time. My life is really quite busy so it’s hard to find time but I’ve been try­ing to carve out time as I can, and paint­ing is a far more ful­fill­ing pas­time than watch­ing tele­vi­sion or similar.

Anyway, with­out fur­ther ado, here are a few of the pieces that I’ve put together so far:


So you’re in a dessert, but you’re bones, and it grows.

Sunday, September 5th, 2010 @ 5:48pm

I’ve been in Seattle the past few days for Penny-Arcade Expo (PAX) and, as usual, the “Pitch Your Game” panel car­ries a spe­cial degree of import for me. The premise of the panel is that audi­ence mem­bers are given 15 – 45 sec­onds to pitch an idea for a video game and have it judged (harshly) by the panel. Those mak­ing it past this ele­va­tor pitch are admit­ted to the sec­ond round where they go into greater detail on their idea. Finally prizes are given to the best three ideas. It is impor­tant to note that the met­ric for deter­min­ing the best game idea is a com­bi­na­tion of hilar­ity and enter­tain­ment qual­ity, hav­ing noth­ing to do with mar­ketabil­ity or gen­uine qual­ity. Hilarity, of course, ensues.

“Pitch Your Game” is not just one of my favorite parts of PAX; it is a favorite for much of the Fort-Awesome crowd. Having come to PAX a num­ber of times, we’ve come to regard plan­ning ridicu­lous game pitches as a time hon­ored, evening, hotel room tra­di­tion. This year, in pitch plan­ning we came up with a num­ber of hilar­i­ous ideas, as well as a flood of hor­ri­ble and/or unspeak­able ideas. Additionally, we came to the real­iza­tion that any crappy pitch can be made more amus­ing by append­ing “with JRPG ele­ments; also, it’s a rhythm game” (ex. Angry Badger is like Sonic: The Hedgehog but you can’t run fast and the main char­ac­ters a drunk; also it has JRPG ele­ments and it’s rhythm game) (the real hilar­ity comes after numer­ous repetitions).

Eventually, we nar­rowed our­selves down to a rea­son­able num­ber of pitches: Mexican Gear Solid: Tactical Stealth Immigration, Underground Railroad Tycoon, and FEMA Presents Al Roker’s Hurricane Alley 2011. Eventually, these pitches all went splen­didly in the panel and made it to the sec­ond round. After call­ing Friday a night, head­ing to bed and falling asleep, Riad and I appar­ently kept pitch­ing ideas (this is much like other instances of my sleep talk­ing that I have been informed of). Amongst the ram­blings of my sleep, Bigtime, who was awake at the time, over­heard me say, “so you’re in the desert, but you’re bones, and it grows.” This phrase so intrigued me that I decided that it must be my pitch.

My ptich went a lit­tle some­thing like this:

Me: “I’m not entirely clear on some details since a lot of this was related to me by a friend who heard me ram­bling in my sleep. However to the best of my fig­ur­ing, the prophets of old came to me in my dreams and bid me pitch a game, in exactly these words: So you’re in the desert, but you’re bones and it grows.”

Entire room: [per­plexed silence for a few moments]

Panelist: You should stop sleeping.

Me: There’s more.

Panelist: Is that a threat?

Me: Maybe.

Panelist: No. Just no.

The end result, for me, was not the sec­ond round but to have con­founded the panel and the entire room into stunned silence was absolutely priceless.

Dignity is for those that do not travel

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010 @ 8:33pm

Sitting, wait­ing to board my flight from San Francisco to Seattle for PAX Prime, I have already, once, for­feited my dig­nity to my over­lord, Police State USA. Standing up to the man as much as might still allow me to fly, I opted-out of soak­ing up the X-rays that aren’t backscat­tered and hav­ing my naked body put on dis­play for the highly trained elite that is the TSA. Opting-out, of course, sub­jects me to a manda­tory pat-down. During the pat-down, I am granted the dig­ni­fied cour­tesy of hav­ing my spe­cial places be pat­ted down by the back of the agent’s hands; lucky me. Dignity sac­ri­ficed at the alter of home­land secu­rity, I was per­mit­ted to wait for my plane.

At least I sprung for the slightly more expen­sive, exit row and free booze seats: now I can drink until my dig­nity doesn’t matter.

Mosquitoes are Maddening

Wednesday, July 14th, 2010 @ 9:15pm

Being in San Francisco for so long, I have become accus­tomed, men­tally and phys­i­cally, to a sub­stan­tially less aggra­vat­ing envi­ron­ment than I had pre­vi­ously known. Being in Massachusetts – hot, muggy Massachusetts – again, I am recall­ing some of the things that I had left behind – some bad, some good. One thing that I had all but for­got­ten was mos­qui­toes; we don’t really get notice­able num­bers of mos­qui­toes in South of Market, San Francisco. Being here, and it hav­ing been rain­ing recently, the mos­qui­toes were out in full force, while I was work­ing on my boat’s trailer. As such, my sweet, deli­cious, George-blood has been con­sumed by a great many foul lit­tle beasts that have left behind their hor­ren­dous, anti-coagulating, inflammation-inducing, anti­gens of pain.

I’m not sure if my mem­ory is soft and mos­qui­toes have always been this unpleas­ant, if I used to be more adept at avoid­ing their painful bites, or if I had once devel­oped a tol­er­ance to their venom that has since sub­sided. However it may be, I hate mos­qui­toes far more now than I recall hat­ing them in the past.

I’m pretty sure that mos­qui­toes, like sand fleas, are some­thing that I wouldn’t mind sac­ri­fic­ing entire food chains to see go extinct.

A hole in the water into which you pour time and money

Tuesday, July 13th, 2010 @ 4:27pm

One of the things that I’m look­ing to do as a part of this trip east is bring Synchronicity, my Hobie 16, out to California. Given that I haven’t sailed Synchronicity since 2007, the first orders of busi­ness were to free her and fix her up.

It took me about a week of on-and-off yard-work to exca­vate Synchronicity from the weeds that had over­grown her in my absence. Having exca­vated Synchronicity, it was dam­age assess­ment time.

Synchronicity’s trailer was struc­turally alto­gether but one of the tires was flat and both of the wheels were pretty thor­oughly rusted; addi­tion­ally, all of the lights and wiring were shot. So I bought new wheels and a whole new set of lights and wires. I’ve got the wheels swapped out and I’ll redo the wiring tomor­row, if it doesn’t rain. All told, not a lot of effort in repair­ing the trailer but a decent bit of expense, espe­cially when com­bined with the cost of buy­ing a trailer hitch and get­ting it installed on my car.

Thankfully, Synchronicity, her­self, seems to be hold­ing up pretty well. I had to replace all of the ropes and one of the shrouds that I dam­aged while clear­ing away the weeds, which is some expense and lit­tle effort. The main hal­yard also needs replac­ing and, on a Hobie Cat, it’s not just a sim­ple rope, so that’s another lit­tle expense. The mast, sails, tram­po­line, and hull struc­ture are all in good shape but the gel­coat on the bot­tom of the hulls is pretty sad. I might fix the gel­coat now but odds are pretty good that I’ll wait until I get back to San Francisco, as it may be a bit too time/effort inten­sive for my remain­ing week and a half

Between all of the repair costs and the expected decreases in fuel effi­ciency for the drive west, I expect that it’ll prob­a­bly cost me a good $500-$800 to get Synchronicity out on the waters of San Francisco Bay. Take that plus an esti­mated 30 – 50 hours of my time and ask me if it’s worth it.

Heck yes it’s worth it! There are few things in the world like sail­ing a catamaran.

Blessed be thee Saint Leibowitz

Monday, July 12th, 2010 @ 9:57pm

I have, just now, fin­ished read­ing A Canticle For Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr. and, I must say, it is a fan­tas­tic read. The occa­sional use of Latin and Hebrew caused the book, at times, to fly over my head but I believe that may well have been the point.

The book is a story in three parts of a Catholic abbey estab­lished in the wake of a nuclear holo­caust. This par­tic­u­lar abbey has been charged by its founder, one Brother I. E. Leibowitz, with accu­mu­lat­ing and pre­serv­ing human knowl­edge. Much as the Irish monks dur­ing our last dark ages, these monks are the shep­herds of knowl­edge in the next dark age.

In spite of being in the future, the book con­stantly feels as though it is in the past, and it pro­vides me with a sym­pa­thy and fond­ness for Catholicism that I have not felt before. While I still can­not abide the dogma of the great Catholic empire, I must admit that they do serve us all by pre­serv­ing knowl­edge, at times.

One quote, from the lat­ter por­tion of the novel, tick­led my fancy a great deal:

They man­aged only to demon­strate that the math­e­mat­i­cal limit of an infi­nite sequence of “doubt­ing the cer­tainty with which some­thing doubted is known to be unknow­able when the ‘some­thing doubted’ is still a pre­ced­ing state­ment of ‘unknowa­bil­ity’ of some­thing doubted,” that the limit of this process at infin­ity can only be equiv­a­lent to a state­ment of absolute cer­tainty, even though phrased as an infi­nite series of nega­tions of certainty

– A Canticle For Leibowitz (pp. 301 – 302)

The quote is not par­tic­u­larly rep­re­sen­ta­tive but, to be hon­est, I feel that it would be hard to find any quote that would be prop­erly rep­re­sen­ta­tive of this book.

A Canticle For Leibowitz is a won­der­ful read; one of few, recently, that has suc­ceeded in keep­ing my atten­tion from start to fin­ish, and I highly rec­om­mend it.

Is it wrong to make the same wish on two shooting stars?

Friday, July 9th, 2010 @ 11:01pm

One of the nice things about Woods Hole is that there are few enough lights that you can see the stars in the sky. It’s really quite pleas­ant to be out on a moon­less night and see so very many stars scat­tered across the skies.

Sometimes, being in San Francisco, I for­get how nice it is to go for an evening walk through empty, dark streets, with trees to the sides and stars above.

To get back to the tit­u­lar ques­tion, I’ve been see­ing quite a few shoot­ing stars – I think that I’m up to five since get­ting here – and I’ve always liked the tra­di­tion of wish­ing on shoot­ing stars. Being as I am, I don’t really put much merit in wish­ing, except inso­far as plant­ing things in one’s own sub­con­scious can be ben­e­fi­cial, but I also rather enjoy harm­less, mean­ing­less super­sti­tion from time to time. Of course, when things come down to super­sti­tion, eti­quette really takes on a strong role but eti­quettes of super­sti­tion tend to vary greatly. I find, that there are rel­a­tively few things that I would actu­ally want to wish for and that num­ber has already been over­come by the num­ber of shoot­ing stars that I have seen.

Is it poor form to reuse a wish on a new shoot­ing star?

Fortune Cookie: 2010-07-03

Monday, July 5th, 2010 @ 8:39pm

Special touches have been
planned with you in mind.
Lucky Numbers 56, 20, 41, 9, 29, 37

Commentary: One should not always over­look the salad at a Chinese restaurant.

2010 Journey East: Some numbers

Monday, July 5th, 2010 @ 8:31pm

I’m rather fond of keep­ing metic­u­lous data about var­i­ous things and the list of such things cer­tainly con­tains sta­tis­tics about my car. Having fin­ished the trip east, here are some num­bers from the trip:

Odometer leav­ing San Francisco, CA: 1715
Odometer arriv­ing Austin, TX: 3532
Odometer leav­ing Austin, TX: 3540
Odometer arriv­ing Atlanta, GA: 4730
Odometer leav­ing Atlanta, GA: 4730
Odometer arriv­ing Concord, MA: 5837
Odometer leav­ing Concord, MA: 5850
Odometer arriv­ing Woods Hole, MA: 5947

The fol­low­ing num­bers are a lit­tle off because I started and fin­ished with par­tially full tanks of fuel:

Total diesel con­sumed: ~115 gal­lons
Total cost of fuel: ~$340

The astute reader will notice that I have been get­ting fuel econ­omy in the upper thir­ties of miles per gal­lon. This is cor­rect and, when observed on a more gran­u­lar level it does seem to be show­ing a trend upwards, though that trend is likely not sta­tis­ti­cally sig­nif­i­cant. As I intend to con­tinue mea­sur­ing my fuel con­sump­tion for the life of my car, I will be able to give bet­ter data later, when I am more than 6000 miles and 15 tanks of fuel in.

2010 Journey East: Here I am, I guess

Monday, July 5th, 2010 @ 8:30pm

Well, I’m sit­ting here in our house in Woods Hole, sip­ping a beer, read­ing an inter­est­ing physics paper about the holo­graphic prin­ci­ple, and I thought that it might be good to take a few moments to update you all on the past few days.

Having left Matt’s place in Atlanta on Friday morn­ing, I jour­neyed up through the Carolinas, Virginia, Maryland, New Jersey, New York and into Connecticut on Friday. Baldr and I slept at a rest area in the back of my car in Connecticut and then went on to my par­ents’ place in Concord, MA on Saturday. Saturday evening, after din­ner, I fin­ished the jour­ney down to Woods Hole, MA so as to avoid any morn­ing traf­fic on Sunday (the 4th).

In the process, I man­aged to fin­ish Cloud Atlas and I am pleased to report that it was, in fact, quite good.

Anyway, leav­ing Atlanta, and dri­ving through Georgia for a while, I ended up in South Carolina. Driving through South Carolina on an inter­state, one sees quite a few signs adver­tis­ing the sale of fire­works. Initially, my reac­tion was mostly a ho-hum, fire­works are kind of fun but do I really care enough to stop and buy some. Thankfully, after pass­ing a dozen or so adver­tise­ments on the road, I came to my senses and real­ized that, of course, I want fire­works, big awe­some fire­works. Coming to my senses, and stop­ping at the next place I could find, I pro­ceeded to buy a bit over a hun­dred dol­lars worth of fire­works – pri­mar­ily mor­tars and bot­tle rock­ets as those are my pref­er­ence. We went through about half of the fire­works yes­ter­day while we watched the Falmouth fire­works from Fay Beach. A num­ber of youths (young­sters, teenagers, hooli­gans, what­ever you want to call them) clus­tered around us and we were nice enough to share my fire­works with them. It was rather pleas­ant to share fire­works with a younger gen­er­a­tion and I cer­tainly know that I would have appre­ci­ated it had some­one done so with my when I was that age; I couldn’t help but also feel good about pos­si­bly instill­ing some tiny amount of respect for the proper oper­a­tion of things that have labels like, “Warning: Shoots Flaming Balls”. Subsequently, Dave, Paul, and I played a rous­ing game of Power Grid, which is an excel­lent board game.

That’s most of what I have to report of the past few days; it’s nice to be here after so long away. I should be here for about the next three weeks so it’ll be inter­est­ing to see how things play out.

2010 Journey East: Days 4&5: Atlanta via Louisiana

Thursday, July 1st, 2010 @ 10:41pm

It’s Thursday night – tech­ni­cally Friday – and I’m sit­ting in JamesMatt’s liv­ing room, chat­ting with his room­mate. It’s pleas­ant here but per­haps I should back up.

Wednesday (Day 4), around noon, I packed up and left Austin. It was a lit­tle later than I had intended but being well rested was a pleas­ant out­come to achieve. Anyway, set­ting off from Austin, I set my GPS for Venice, LA and set out. To be wholly hon­est, dri­ving through Texas really isn’t all that inter­est­ing, espe­cially east­ern Texas. I don’t really have any com­plaints though; I’m really enjoy­ing the road, espe­cially the decent speed lim­its down here in the South (usu­ally 70mph, some­times 80mph). I’ve started lis­ten­ing, at Grace’s sug­ges­tion, to an audio­book ver­sion of the novel Cloud Atlas. Cloud Atlas is incred­i­bly engross­ing and, because of the nar­ra­tive struc­ture, at times rather infu­ri­at­ing; this infu­ri­a­tion later enhanc­ing the sat­is­fac­tion it pro­vides but I am not yet done so it is per­haps best to wait a bit before fur­ther reviewing.

After even­tu­ally leav­ing Texas, I entered Louisiana, which is so very full of swamp­land as to be quite impres­sive. I first drove across prop­erly immense swamp­lands dur­ing my 2005 trip to Florida and those swamps had noth­ing on Louisiana. The amount of water is both beau­ti­ful and stag­ger­ing. Anyway, work­ing my way across Louisiana, I even­tu­ally hit New Orleans. I drove through New Orleans and made my way for the tip of the Mississippi delta, the afore-programmed Venice, LA. I made it pretty far out that lit­tle strip of land before flood­ing halted my progress; so it goes.

It’s worth men­tion­ing that I’m not really so much mak­ing a slow trip across the coun­try to see the sights; that is a thing to do and it might be fun but it is not what I am doing; I am dri­ving from San Francisco to Woods Hole and dilly-dallying just a lit­tle bit along the way. As such, I didn’t spend much time in New Orleans as Atlanta was my next destination.

Proceeding through Mississippi, get­ting a bit tired, I started con­tem­plat­ing sleep. Eventually, I attempted to set­tle down at a rest area in the back of my car, with Baldr, for some sleep. Unfortunately, the rest area’s light and Baldr’s heat-induced heavy breath­ing made that a non-viable plan.

Slamming a 5 Hour Power and get­ting back on the road, I forged on. Finishing off Mississippi and push­ing through Alabama, I made it to Georgia in the wee hours of last night – Thursday (Day 5) morn­ing. Pushing on, con­tin­u­ing to lis­ten to Cloud Atlas, I hit Atlanta at about 7am; find­ing JamesMatt awake, we got some break­fast, chat­ted a bit, and then he went to work. Not hav­ing slept, I of course slept dur­ing the day. Matt returned in the early evening; we and his room­mates spent a while hanging-out; and now, every­one else hav­ing gone to bed, I write this before following.

Tomorrow, we make for Massachusetts, likely puas­ing (very briefly) in New York along the way.

2010 Journey East: Day 3: Austin

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010 @ 7:53am

Although exceed­ingly warm by my stan­dards, Austin is not an unpleas­ant place. The pri­mary events of the 3rd day of my jour­ney were lunch with Gautham and Ariel; the acqui­si­tion of nearly suf­fi­cient wardrobe items as will serve most of my needs for the sum­mer; a rather sub­stan­tial nap; and din­ner with Riad, Gautham, Cyrus, and Riad’s lady-friend.

Baldr has been hav­ing a good time hang­ing out with Nico and Shockley, as well as, gen­er­ally, not being in the car. Baldr mostly sits, stands, lies down, or naps in the car, which, prac­ti­cally speak­ing, is not alto­gether dis­sim­i­lar from what he does dur­ing the vast major­ity of other times.

Also, I fin­ished Moby Dick and it was awe­some. Moby Dick is, truly, a leviathan of lit­er­a­ture in every pos­si­ble sense.

Austin is serv­ing as a nice part-way spot to rest and, if it were the week­end, it might be pleas­ant to stay a lit­tle longer. In order to cover dis­tance, rather than wait while peo­ple work, Day 4 will, hope­fully, see the Louisiana shore and the city of New Orleans.

2010 Journey East: Day 2: In brief summary

Tuesday, June 29th, 2010 @ 1:26am

It’s 3AM Central Time and I arrived at Riad’s place in Austin, TX some­where between 30 and 60 min­utes ago.

It being 3AM, I shall keep this brief and, per­haps, go into greater detail tomorrow.

There were a few notable things that occurred dur­ing the day:

There was a US Border Patrol inspec­tion point on I-10E an hour or so East of El Paso, TX whereat I was first asked if I was a US cit­i­zen, then asked where I was from, where I was going, and what the pur­pose of my trip was. My car was visu­ally inspected from the out­side and sniffed by a dog. I was asked Baldr’s age and I was sent on my way. The line of cars wait­ing to be inspected, the time spent per car, and the inter­rup­tion to my cruis­ing speed prob­a­bly cost me a half hour or so. I’m not sure whether this is an indi­ca­tion that the ter­ror­ists or the anti-immigration crack-pots have won.

Somewhere in the midst of Texas, among the scrub­land and the mesas, in the mid-afternoon, I hit bore­dom for the first time; it was an odd, unpleas­ant feel­ing that I haven’t felt in a very long time but its explo­ration and com­ing through the other side are chief ele­ments of this vaca­tion. After hit­ting that point, I drove in my bore­dom with the music and audio­books off for a time before the bore­dom passed and Moby Dick resumed. Speaking of Moby Dick; I am on the 18th or 18 discs, near­ing the final chap­ters and absolutely riveted.

Sometime shortly after my bore­dom passed I encoun­tered a rain of insects. Droplets, or what seemed to be droplets, began hit­ting my wind­shield at the rate of a mild shower but, some moments later, when I decided to use my wipers to remove the droplets, they merely smeared across the wind­shield. This hor­rid rain per­sisted for a good fif­teen to thirty min­utes, even­tu­ally leav­ing my wind­shield with sub­stan­tially dimin­ished clar­ity, in spite of many appli­ca­tions of wind­shield wipers with fluid.

Due to my own lazi­ness and my cars extreme econ­omy, those insects remained on my wind­shield through night­fall, on into the night, and only finally were extri­cated by an actual rain­fall about a hun­dred miles out from Austin. I say a hun­dred miles out because that is where the rain began; it was not, how­ever, very local­ized. For the last hun­dred miles of the drive, the weather vac­il­lated wildly between mild mist and rains so tor­ren­tial that I haven’t seen their likes since last I saw the outer fringes of hur­ri­canes in New England. I have heard that there is a trop­i­cal storm off the coast now and this truly felt like its outer edges.

There were plenty of other sights and events dur­ing the day but, as I said before, the time is late and I must sleep.

2010 Journey East: Day 1 addendum: Nope

Monday, June 28th, 2010 @ 1:32am

That I am in the Buckeye Motor Hotel in Buckeye, AZ should answer the ques­tion of whether or not I suc­ceeded in sleep­ing in the 90°F weather present at that rest area.

Overall, $55 ($45+$10/pet) isn’t a bad price to pay for a room with air con­di­tion­ing. Given my cur­rent needs, I prob­a­bly would have paid $55 for a 6.5’x6.5′ closet with air con­di­tion­ing; I’d be grip­ing about it in this post but I prob­a­bly would have done it. I guess, alter­na­tively, I could have left the engine idling and the air con­di­tion­ing on in my car; the fuel prob­a­bly would have lasted the night and on to the near­est gas sta­tion but the main­te­nance costs down the line would not have been worth it.

I’ve been tak­ing I-10E since LA, which passes straight through Phoenix. Since I’ll be dri­ving in the morn­ing, I have no desire to hit traf­fic, and Buckeye’s half-way between I-10 and I-8, I think that I’ll divert myself around Phoenix on I-8E so as to meet back up with I-10 south of Phoenix.

Ok, the air con­di­tion­ing seems to have cooled the room suf­fi­ciently that I can get some sleep.

With luck, my next post will be from Riad’s place in Austin.

2010 Journey East: Day 1: I suck at remembering stuff

Monday, June 28th, 2010 @ 12:16am

Right now, I sit in my car, typ­ing to you on my work lap­top over my phone’s Internet, in a rest area where I plan to sleep, approx­i­mately 50 miles easy of Phoenix, AZ, hav­ing dri­ven 703 miles in just shy of 10.5 hours, hav­ing used less than two tanks of fuel.

So far, bar­ring two issues, it’s been an alto­gether pleas­ant trip. Due to tar­di­ness in pack­ing and clean­ing, I set out around noon-thirty, which was about three hours later than I had intended but there isn’t really any time crit­i­cal­ity to my jour­ney, so it’s not a big deal. A cou­ple hours into the jour­ney, when I set about get­ting break­fast, lunch, my first meal of the day, or what­ever you want to call it, that I had for­got­ten to bring Baldr’s leash and pinch col­lar; as a result, Baldr’s short walks dur­ing the trip have been either off-leash or using a bungee-cord as an impro­vised leash; I will have to buy a new leash and pinch col­lar some­time tomor­row; so it goes. We encoun­tered hints of traf­fic near LA but noth­ing too both­er­some and, oth­er­wise, have had smooth and fast paced travel.

I have been lis­ten­ing to Moby Dick on audio­book and am cur­rently on disc 8 of 18. I must, truly and hon­estly, say that this work of prose is truly an amaz­ing thing. Moby Dick is, at times, for that mat­ter, most times, rather slow paced, such that I expect I wouldn’t be able to man­age this degree of devo­tion were I not a cap­tive audi­ence with a great deal of monot­ony on my side. However, see­ing as I am a cap­tive audi­ence, I have been greatly enjoy­ing the work for its vari­ety, depth, descrip­tive­ness, phi­los­o­phy, and sheer grav­i­tas. At this rate, I should have fin­ished this mon­strous epic well before I make Austin.

Sometime, approx­i­mately two hours ago, I was think­ing about whether or not I would change my clothes while on the road when it occurred to me that I had no rec­ol­lec­tion of load­ing my suit­case into my car. On fur­ther inspec­tion, I can, in fact, con­firm that I also for­got to put my suit­case in my car. Man, do I feel like an idiot. Thankfully, my suit­case con­tains only clothes and toi­letries, which are rel­a­tively eas­ily replace­able for the pur­poses of such a jour­ney; though it is supremely both­er­some to have to do so unin­ten­tion­ally. My lap­top, charg­ers, and every­thing else are thank­fully in my mes­sen­ger bag, which leaves me still able to per­form the var­i­ous tasks that I intend to per­form and, to be entirely hon­est, I was think­ing, just yes­ter­day, that it was about time for me to buy some new clothes; call it unfor­tu­nate prov­i­dence, I guess.

I won­der what else I will come to dis­cover that I have forgotten.

Anyway, now it’s time to see if I can get any sleep in this abom­inable 90°F Arizona night; hope­fully it won’t dis­tress Baldr too much either.