Photo fragments from communist Hungary
6 years ago
Friday, July 20, 2007
Chapter 8, Verse 5: The Future of Flight
Hello Space Travelers, I make good on my promises, and today we learn about the future. Whilst in the greater metropolitan area of Seattle, I decided to visit a museum. The future of flight it was named and I learned a lot.
Before I even had a chance to enter the museum I was enamored by the gems of wisdom I could find in the parking lot. This got me thinking: When was the last time I heard a jet in Rolla?
Once inside the museum itself, I had two options, the tour of the Everett plant where they build the new 787 Dreamliner or a lesser museum to see where flight has been. sing some special channels, I managed to arrange to do both. They saw this fit as I was a member of the web press.
Before I even had a chance to enter the museum I was enamored by the gems of wisdom I could find in the parking lot. This got me thinking: When was the last time I heard a jet in Rolla?Once inside the museum itself, I had two options, the tour of the Everett plant where they build the new 787 Dreamliner or a lesser museum to see where flight has been. sing some special channels, I managed to arrange to do both. They saw this fit as I was a member of the web press.
As a compromise, I was not able to bring my camera into the plant. The Everett plant is the largest building in the world. While it is only about 6 stories tall, it covers an area greater than several football stadiums. After it's expansion in the 80s the heating an ventilation began creating aperations in the building. That is to say, clouds happened.
After the tour of the future, I went back into the past. I was impressed by the amount of stuff they had acquired, but somehow felt like the museum part was somehow just a promotion of the new Dreamliner.
It was still worth it, and even if the afternoon was spent waiting in lines and being herded around a engineering plant, I felt free. I didn't need a jet noise to liberate myself either.
Questions from readers:
Jake from Missouri says: "When you went up the mountain did you see any places I could snow board?"
Hi Jake, how is Missouri? Hot and depressing? Yes, I saw some places you could snowboard... if you were a badass-ninja-robot-with-no-regaurd-for-safety-drunk-on-power-boarder. If you were to shred that beautiful mountain, you'd probably resurect some mountain demon, and anger the volcano.
Wear a helmet?
Goodnight and goodluck Space Travelers.
Chapter 8, Verse 4: Jack & Jill Went Up The Hill
Hello Space Travelers, like always I'm late with the news on the road trip. It seems mildly odd to some that I'm still keeping to this blog at all. Well in the good spirit of having the last word, I am going to finish the story before I graduate. The odd part will be that while the story of our young handsome hero has stayed the same the prologue has taken an interesting turn.
The Washington area is littered with mountains, and by "littered" I mean there are two. Meghan and I decided to venture up a the mountain and have our own mini holiday. I'm kind of an "urbanite," but I found that being in the northwest made me want to exercise my tolerance for mountain air.
The trip was good, and so was the company. It seemed like we could go no higher, but the road seemed to continue forever. The long ride allowed us to have a close time without the interruption of cell phones or the Internet or friends or family or jobs or unemployment or school. We just drove until we ran out of road, and when we ran out of road, we stared down that great mountain, and watched as the clouds opened up and revealed its great mass. We returned to the car and coasted all the way down.
Happy new year space travelers. May 2008 be a year to remember. Remember, get your animals spayed or neutered.
The Washington area is littered with mountains, and by "littered" I mean there are two. Meghan and I decided to venture up a the mountain and have our own mini holiday. I'm kind of an "urbanite," but I found that being in the northwest made me want to exercise my tolerance for mountain air.The trip was good, and so was the company. It seemed like we could go no higher, but the road seemed to continue forever. The long ride allowed us to have a close time without the interruption of cell phones or the Internet or friends or family or jobs or unemployment or school. We just drove until we ran out of road, and when we ran out of road, we stared down that great mountain, and watched as the clouds opened up and revealed its great mass. We returned to the car and coasted all the way down.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
to fetch a photo or two
Jill took a trip
and replaced her hip
They use to get a table for deux
but Jill found god
so Jack was odd
and now they're both singles moreover
no one's to blame
and they're not ashamed
just bored and lonely and sober
Happy new year space travelers. May 2008 be a year to remember. Remember, get your animals spayed or neutered.
Chapter 8, Verse 3: Sewage & Sewing
Hello Space Travelers, it's been a while. Wonder where I've been? So do I. Truth is, I think I may have somehow already returned to Rolla. The last few months have been a little fuzzy, but with your support I know I'll be able to put the pieces together. I'll I know is that I have photos, and slight memories. We'll begin here.
So I'm here in Seattle, and I'm underground for some reason. I believe I'm on a tour. I remember the guide talking about how much of frontier Seattle was built on a hill next to the sound. This created some sewage problems. Later the street was raised, and the buildings were keep in the same places. This created some problems as one might assume. It meant that the street was above the street anywhere from 12 to 36 ft.
Timeout: Holy shit, Meghan learned how to walk on walls!
Ar first a series of latters was used. This was not very handicap accessible as one would imagine. The next step was extending the road to the building which meant that the second and third floors of some buildings would become in all actuallity the ground floor.
This was by all means a good thing, except that now there were all sorts of very dark and vary dangerous passages in which all sorts of vermin could flourish. Rats for instance were very prevalent that the mayor began putting a bounty on rat tails. It became a means to make money. but like all things, if there is a penny, there's someone who sees a dime. This ended when it was discovered that people had actually began to farm rats and kill them for money.
By the way, have we found those WMDs yet?
As much as this totem pole is a sign of diversity, a closer look will just reveal more exploitation of the natives. This one is stolen. Shhhh... don't tell anybody. But it's "hard" to resist such a symbol such as this right? Turns out that frontier Seattle or as they would call it the "gateway to the north," and like any port where there are sailors, there are ... Seamstresses.
At this high fashion kilt shop, no fucking joke, it was obvious that not all the seamstresses have left. As is turns out, not all the seamstresses were even seamstresses, or for that matter even men. Yes that's correct, when I say seamstresses, I am actually referring to prostitutes.
All this talk about hos got me thinking: Are the promiscuous over prosecuted? Halloween was last week and I was reminded of how women dress on Halloween. Think about it. No really take it in. Let the picture burn itself in. Now here's the kicker, a lot of these girls are the same girls that dress very conservative any other given day in the calender year.
Are they whores? No.
So why? Why then, why wear the costume of a seamstress if you should be wearing the costume of a Nun? I believe that the real costume is somewhere in between. Women today are being hit with conflicting messages. On one hand they are being told that sex is power, and scarier that its open expression is normal. On the other hand they are being told that sex is something shameful and even sinful.
So perhaps, a woman is comfortable with her sexual identity. Perhaps it's everyone else who is uncomfortable. We assume that everyone is either fucking no one, or thy are fucking everyone. When did sex get so black and white? Last time i checked, sex was a bit more colorful. In fact, in Japanese the word for "erotic" is "iroiro" which means "color color." I'm personally kind of proud of our Halloween seamstresses. If they were the nun costume the rest of the year and feel uncomfortable, I'm glad that there is an excuse to be expressive, even if for only a day.
To all the seamstresses, hope you had a great Halloween, and don't fret the haters.
Goodnight Space Travelers, and take it from me, seagulls are fearless trash eating flying rats with no off switch.
So I'm here in Seattle, and I'm underground for some reason. I believe I'm on a tour. I remember the guide talking about how much of frontier Seattle was built on a hill next to the sound. This created some sewage problems. Later the street was raised, and the buildings were keep in the same places. This created some problems as one might assume. It meant that the street was above the street anywhere from 12 to 36 ft.
Timeout: Holy shit, Meghan learned how to walk on walls!
Ar first a series of latters was used. This was not very handicap accessible as one would imagine. The next step was extending the road to the building which meant that the second and third floors of some buildings would become in all actuallity the ground floor.
This was by all means a good thing, except that now there were all sorts of very dark and vary dangerous passages in which all sorts of vermin could flourish. Rats for instance were very prevalent that the mayor began putting a bounty on rat tails. It became a means to make money. but like all things, if there is a penny, there's someone who sees a dime. This ended when it was discovered that people had actually began to farm rats and kill them for money.By the way, have we found those WMDs yet?
As much as this totem pole is a sign of diversity, a closer look will just reveal more exploitation of the natives. This one is stolen. Shhhh... don't tell anybody. But it's "hard" to resist such a symbol such as this right? Turns out that frontier Seattle or as they would call it the "gateway to the north," and like any port where there are sailors, there are ... Seamstresses.At this high fashion kilt shop, no fucking joke, it was obvious that not all the seamstresses have left. As is turns out, not all the seamstresses were even seamstresses, or for that matter even men. Yes that's correct, when I say seamstresses, I am actually referring to prostitutes. All this talk about hos got me thinking: Are the promiscuous over prosecuted? Halloween was last week and I was reminded of how women dress on Halloween. Think about it. No really take it in. Let the picture burn itself in. Now here's the kicker, a lot of these girls are the same girls that dress very conservative any other given day in the calender year.
Are they whores? No.
So why? Why then, why wear the costume of a seamstress if you should be wearing the costume of a Nun? I believe that the real costume is somewhere in between. Women today are being hit with conflicting messages. On one hand they are being told that sex is power, and scarier that its open expression is normal. On the other hand they are being told that sex is something shameful and even sinful.
So perhaps, a woman is comfortable with her sexual identity. Perhaps it's everyone else who is uncomfortable. We assume that everyone is either fucking no one, or thy are fucking everyone. When did sex get so black and white? Last time i checked, sex was a bit more colorful. In fact, in Japanese the word for "erotic" is "iroiro" which means "color color." I'm personally kind of proud of our Halloween seamstresses. If they were the nun costume the rest of the year and feel uncomfortable, I'm glad that there is an excuse to be expressive, even if for only a day.
To all the seamstresses, hope you had a great Halloween, and don't fret the haters.
Goodnight Space Travelers, and take it from me, seagulls are fearless trash eating flying rats with no off switch.
Chapter 8, Verse 2: The Space Needle That Needed a Hero
Hello Space Needlers... Travelers, Seattle continues to be awesome! Today (not actually today, but you get it) I decided to accomplish a great feat of awesomeness. I went to the Space Needle! Uno problemo though, Your hero has two weaknesses, one being heights.
Let me be the first to say (I'm not actually the first) that it was tall too. Golly (a really dumb expression). As Space Traveler Lazer Winkelbot and I approached the base of the needle, we saw the Science Fiction Museum or SFM. As we walked by we could hear the very familiar soundtracks of famous Sci-Fi cinema mixed and escaping into the public. 
This guy really wanted to pet a Wookie. That's racist.
Elliott Smith had seemed to give me a sad and yet sweet voice in my head, and I was eager to share it with all that would have it. In my first semester at UMR, Elliott Smith would be found dead in his apartment. He had committed suicide. Strangely, I felt that I understood. The sarrow he shared in his music seemed real, so different from the screaming teenage voice whining into the microphone which had been at that time mistaken for sadness. When I learned of his death, I spent a few days listening to all his music, and reflected on my own sorrow. If this summer is the last summer, then that summer was the first.
My only wish is to be loved and respected at my most genuine self. Goodnight.
Let me be the first to say (I'm not actually the first) that it was tall too. Golly (a really dumb expression). As Space Traveler Lazer Winkelbot and I approached the base of the needle, we saw the Science Fiction Museum or SFM. As we walked by we could hear the very familiar soundtracks of famous Sci-Fi cinema mixed and escaping into the public. This guy really wanted to pet a Wookie. That's racist.
Once inside the Space needle you will find a very odd thing: A large picture of the Space needle to the backdrop of Mt. Rainier on a VERY clear day. Oddly enough, this picture was the only thing with any sort of security. Space Traveler Winkelbot was able to get this stealthy photo before a employee would come over to us and quote some very obvious lies about copyright laws. If we wanted a picture of this thing, we'd have to stand in front of it and pay for it downstairs.
I'm not mad at the employee, she was just vomiting out the company stance on the image. This Super scared image by the way was available for FREE (zero dollars) downstairs on the brochure. Obviously, a continuity issue.
My contempt to abuse capitalism took second place to my irrational fear of heights once on top. Sure I'm smiling, but inside I'm a frenzy of fear driven chaos. I thought a peace sign was appropriate. Between moments of pure terror, I was able to find brief glimpses out of the windows. At one point I was even emboldened to walk outside on the deck. The deck offers one additional factor in my personal fear: Whipping wind. My courage lasted for a while, but eventually my body let me know it was time to retire back inside.
The elevator ride up is at 10mph, the ride down felt more like 20. It was nice though to be back on the ground.
Seattle, in an attempt to be creative and artsy has various pigs across the city. You will find the pigs almost anywhere you go. This pig was not very hero friendly. A larger pig preaching a message of compassion and tolerance was able to subdue the irate ornate bovine, and I was able to leave unscathed.
Time for a question or two.
Gabriel writes: Chi, how come you only did the western United States? Have you ever been out east?
Well Gabriel, the selection of my route had several factors. The largest factor was housing. Being that I have a large family presence on the west coast, it reduced the cost dramatically. Frankly it was the difference between being able to go and not. Part of this road trip was to go explore and have some positive solitude, but the other part was seeing many of my family members. As for the East, other than my 8th grade field trip to Washington, DC, I've only been once. That trip to the east was a trip to a family reunion on my mother's side of the family in West Virginia. This memory of mine is coincidentally my first memory. The memory consists of two things. The first is my older brother Ismael, we call him Qui Qui, firing a rifle. Not much of a memory, but I distinctly remember the kickback throwing him to the ground. The second part of the memory is being held by one of my parents while we sat on the back of a four wheeler. we rode around in a field and I remember the color of the mountains that surrounded it. They were purple, and every mountain I would draw in my youth would continue to share this hue. When I told my parents that this is my earliest memory, I was surprised to find out that the trip to West Virginia happened before I was 2 years old, a very early age for the brain to begin imprinting permanent memories.
Well Gabriel, I've often dreamed about driving east, and resources willing, I know I will someday. I once met a New Yorker (proper) who insisted that I was from Soho. While positive that I was truly a native of Springfield MO, I have since wondered what people in Soho were like. I've wondered what kind of community spirit they have that was somehow characterized by me in that moment. Other than that, the New England area has always interested me, and having become more familiar with the history of Roger Williams, I have wanted to visit Providence RI. The Southern coast seems interesting too, but the east's gems seem to be in it's historical merit. Thanks for the Q Space Traveler, and remember to spay or neuter your family pet.
BorrowedTime writes: What kind of music do you listen too?
I listen to many musical groups and individual artists, however one stands above the rest. Since the summer of 2003, I have been listening faithfully to a man named Elliott Smith. Smith a artist based out of Los Angeles was made popular by a few late 1990's cinema. His songs captured the mood in films such as "Good Will Hunting," American Beauty" and "The Royal Tenenbaums." For some time I have wondered why I have been so drawn to his lyrics, but after what has been 4 years, I believe it to be his sincerity. It was actually the last time I visited family on the west coast when I first listened to him. I had a mix CD a friend had made for me as a going away gift. That CD would not leave my leave my CD player all summer. That feeling alone of that summer can be summarized in the freedom I felt listening to the song "Alameda" while riding the busses around San Diego all day. That newly installed sence of independance and autonomy would serve me well as this was the summer before I left home and moved to Rolla.Elliott Smith had seemed to give me a sad and yet sweet voice in my head, and I was eager to share it with all that would have it. In my first semester at UMR, Elliott Smith would be found dead in his apartment. He had committed suicide. Strangely, I felt that I understood. The sarrow he shared in his music seemed real, so different from the screaming teenage voice whining into the microphone which had been at that time mistaken for sadness. When I learned of his death, I spent a few days listening to all his music, and reflected on my own sorrow. If this summer is the last summer, then that summer was the first.Certainly the first to mean anything. You see, the semester previous, more specifically the week before finals, my life had taken a very difficult turn. My girlfriend of a year and seven months had cheated on me, and left me for that individual. To compound how my life was changing, I had recently been accepted into the same college she was currently attending: UMR.
After she left me, I was faced with the decision to still go or to stay, with only a short summer to figure it out. Some may say that I went with some foolish hope that we would eventually get back together, that my sadness fed my own desperation to be with someone that no longer wished to be with me. I don't doubt that there was a great deal of truth in this idea.
And so I was there, on the bus, on the beach, or on the boardwalk, all the while with Elliott Smith whispering his sad songs in my ear. I found that hearing such sincere sadness normalized the feelings I was having. As he poured his sadness out, I could feel my own sadness leaving, and as it left, my desire became greater and greater to attend the university. I realized that I wanted to go there no because of a girl, but because it represented a lot of hard work. As more and more sadness left me, I began to think about what my own sadness would sound like if I were to ever let it out, and so I picked up a pen and began writing.
That summer I found my voice; I found my song, and if you ever wish to hear it, I might just grant it. It's something I don't share with many. If you ask, you must know in advance that this is my most intimate possession, so I may be shy.
Thanks Space Travelers for reading this unnecessarily long post. It's my wish to make this trip a more joyful experience, but sometimes I just feel like being honest, sincere, and human. I often am hesitant about putting myself on display like this. I wonder what preconceived notions of me I might just betray.My only wish is to be loved and respected at my most genuine self. Goodnight.
Chapter 8, Verse 1: Island Life
The Seattle area is Awesome Space Travelers! There are mountains everywhere! Some even have snow! At the risk of sounding like I'm eleven, I'd say that I'm a little sad I forgot my favorite Sled at home!
A little background for everyone. Prior to my arrival Space Traveler Lazer Winkelbot had prepared many different plans for her hero's arrival. My Chapter in Seattle, would be very full of activity. On my first day, we went to San Juan Island.
I was understandably nervous. This male effigy stood now chance against the wave monster. Effigies stand guard outside of bathrooms, and keep the girls out of the boys room and vice versa. bottom line: I didn't want to die.
We drove on to a ferry. I couldn't tell which end was the front. I think ferries, have both boy and girl motor parts. They seem to be the hermaphrodites of the vehicle world. Standing at what I think was the back I watch us depart from the mainland.
Lazer Winkelbot photographed with my camera machine above enjoyed the ride greatly. The ride was about an hour across, and being this was my first day with her since May 13th, we took the time to talk and look at the scenery....okay, I'm lying. We fell asleep on the third deck.
We were going to the San Juan islands, because of the Orcas. Orcas are really cool, or at least that's what we've been told o believe. These orcas, would prove to be too cool for us, and went cruising for babes.
Speaking of adventure... did anybody go?
A little background for everyone. Prior to my arrival Space Traveler Lazer Winkelbot had prepared many different plans for her hero's arrival. My Chapter in Seattle, would be very full of activity. On my first day, we went to San Juan Island.
I was understandably nervous. This male effigy stood now chance against the wave monster. Effigies stand guard outside of bathrooms, and keep the girls out of the boys room and vice versa. bottom line: I didn't want to die.We drove on to a ferry. I couldn't tell which end was the front. I think ferries, have both boy and girl motor parts. They seem to be the hermaphrodites of the vehicle world. Standing at what I think was the back I watch us depart from the mainland.
Lazer Winkelbot photographed with my camera machine above enjoyed the ride greatly. The ride was about an hour across, and being this was my first day with her since May 13th, we took the time to talk and look at the scenery....okay, I'm lying. We fell asleep on the third deck.We were going to the San Juan islands, because of the Orcas. Orcas are really cool, or at least that's what we've been told o believe. These orcas, would prove to be too cool for us, and went cruising for babes.
Look! Real Whale bones! Whales are big monstrous sea demons with no off switch. Fathers hide your daughters.
We did see one orca, but it was frozen in carbonite. I don't know how this baby orca pissed off Jaba the Hut, but we decided to not get involved.
On a more home front issue, we found a stool for the less important of the engineering world. E-man short for Industrial Engineer, is somewhat of a engineering joke. They are the cross pollination of engineering with management. Somehow, I think that the engineering traits are more recessive, and less dominate. Anyway, this stood, is for Space Travellers Colby, Veggie, Whitney. Your charge is to now venture to the island of San Juan, and sit on your throne of sadness.
Well, not much today to report Space Travellers, but I will answer some questions now that have been stacking up.
JesusIzMyHomeboy writes: Chi, I thought you promised photos from chapter 2 from Phoenix?
Uh... Sorry about that, and I'm still working on that. Space Traveler LeiWU is slightly delinquent in getting me the pictures and video from that chapter. Keep your dominion little one. next question...
DougieFresh writes: What is going to happen to the blog when the story is over?
Well Dougie, thanks for asking! The truth is the story never ends. I think of my life as an ongoing journey. Perhaps the posts wont be as regular, but I still plan on keeping all Space Travellers updated on my life. Some future travel specific adventure may include Washington DC, and any trips I take during the school year. Being that I'm going to be working really hard to get a job for when I graduate, I plan on documenting that journey too! As far as your hero is concerned, the story is just beginning.
BabyGurl85 writes: Aren't you just delusional? Does anybody actually read your stupid blog? Are you sure you're not gay?
Hi BabyGurl85! Congrats on the really awesome handle. I get a sense of your creativity, and a meter for how old you are. I can compare how old you are, with the maturity you display then compare that to other behaviors of others with a similar age. That comparison will be used to create a opinion of you. Am I delusional? I hope so. I'm banking that this web space is able to float on my overactive imagination alone. Does anyone read this? I hope not. I am a little concerned that the blog is getting close to 1000 hits. You know ho this works. first someone reads the blog.
Then they tell two friends.
Then they tell two friends.Then they tell two friends.
Sooner of later, this is no longer the worst kept embarrassment of the interweb, and I'm having to answer question from your friend BadGurl87 about what a Space Traveller is. Am I gay? Much to the disappointment of many no. I am not. By the way, thanks for finding my email!
Well Space Trallevers, thanks for all the comments and questions. I look forward to answering more and more of them as I complete this adventure. If you want your question featured in the blog, shoot me an email at ast244@umr.edu. I am open to questions about the trip, life, the universe, personal stuff, job searching, and most other nonsense.
Speaking of adventure... did anybody go?
Chapter 7, Verse 2: Am I There Yet?
Good morning Space Travelers. A little note about sleeping in your car: Have a plan. Improvising a bed is more challenging than it seems. Oh, and by the way, that blasted day star rises out of the earth at far too early of an hour can we do something about that?
All I needed was a little caffeine snack and I was super green to hit the road. My lower back kind of hurt from the rest, but the pain went away after some stretches.
Oregon in the light of day kind of looks like Missouri, only the plains are framed with mountains. The air has a certain sweetness to it, perhaps it was wild flowers.
I decided to stop and get some food in Portland. Portland, as I have been told over many years is a giant hippie mecca, and also the best place to be if you are homeless. The city itself is very clean and I found a area of Portland that was full of little bistros and teriyaki restaurants.
I decided to get a bento with Bulgogi. The rice was really good too. after eating, I made small talk with the cooks. I learned that the area I was in was once a primarily Japanese area of Portland, until WWII when many were put into the camps. This was interesting, but ultimately tragic. This was not the first nor would it be the last place I would see with a similar past on my journey.
I left Portland, and had 160 miles left until Seattle. The interstate was great, until Olympia. Once in Olympia, there was some traffic from construction. I shall try to describe the rules for dealing with traffic, and the penalty I bring with their disobedience.
Rule 1: Lane ending signs or signs that command you to merge, are not suggestions. Once you the driver have seen the sign, you should mover earlier rather than later. I shall now attempt to explain why. You see, when you first see this sign, chances are you are moving at 50-60mph. In fact, most of traffic is probably moving at this or a similar speed. By moving over earlier, rather than closer to the obstruction you provide a longer line of sight to the construction zone for cars that are behind you. After merging, you will typically slow down, and the congestion will increase. This is to be expected. With the congestion getting more and more tight as you approach the construction zone, it becomes harder and harder for a car to merge into the provided lanes of traffic. The problem is that when you the considerate driver moves over quickly and provides the polite line of sight to the construction zone, you additionally leave an open lane for the scum of the earth. The violators of rule one will drive all the way up to the point where construction has began and then wait to be let in. The act of letting them in means many things. First, it means that the already congested traffic must allow for a hole. That hole can only be create by someone slowing down, or worst stopping. Slowing down 15mph at the "front" of the line will cause a 40mph slow down a quarter mile back. That slowdown a quarter mile back makes more congestion, and further creates congestion beyond the point where the sign polite tells you to merge over a lane. Violators of rule 1 do not deserve entry into your lane. If you are believer in Christ, you can pray, if you believe in Satan, you can hex, but if you believe in Johnny freedom car, you can just play pacman with the road lines. this prevents you from losing your spot in the "proper" lane, while at the same time denying the assholes on the road access to the front of the line. I find this profoundly satisfying.
All I needed was a little caffeine snack and I was super green to hit the road. My lower back kind of hurt from the rest, but the pain went away after some stretches.
Oregon in the light of day kind of looks like Missouri, only the plains are framed with mountains. The air has a certain sweetness to it, perhaps it was wild flowers.
I decided to stop and get some food in Portland. Portland, as I have been told over many years is a giant hippie mecca, and also the best place to be if you are homeless. The city itself is very clean and I found a area of Portland that was full of little bistros and teriyaki restaurants.
I decided to get a bento with Bulgogi. The rice was really good too. after eating, I made small talk with the cooks. I learned that the area I was in was once a primarily Japanese area of Portland, until WWII when many were put into the camps. This was interesting, but ultimately tragic. This was not the first nor would it be the last place I would see with a similar past on my journey.
I left Portland, and had 160 miles left until Seattle. The interstate was great, until Olympia. Once in Olympia, there was some traffic from construction. I shall try to describe the rules for dealing with traffic, and the penalty I bring with their disobedience.
Rule 1: Lane ending signs or signs that command you to merge, are not suggestions. Once you the driver have seen the sign, you should mover earlier rather than later. I shall now attempt to explain why. You see, when you first see this sign, chances are you are moving at 50-60mph. In fact, most of traffic is probably moving at this or a similar speed. By moving over earlier, rather than closer to the obstruction you provide a longer line of sight to the construction zone for cars that are behind you. After merging, you will typically slow down, and the congestion will increase. This is to be expected. With the congestion getting more and more tight as you approach the construction zone, it becomes harder and harder for a car to merge into the provided lanes of traffic. The problem is that when you the considerate driver moves over quickly and provides the polite line of sight to the construction zone, you additionally leave an open lane for the scum of the earth. The violators of rule one will drive all the way up to the point where construction has began and then wait to be let in. The act of letting them in means many things. First, it means that the already congested traffic must allow for a hole. That hole can only be create by someone slowing down, or worst stopping. Slowing down 15mph at the "front" of the line will cause a 40mph slow down a quarter mile back. That slowdown a quarter mile back makes more congestion, and further creates congestion beyond the point where the sign polite tells you to merge over a lane. Violators of rule 1 do not deserve entry into your lane. If you are believer in Christ, you can pray, if you believe in Satan, you can hex, but if you believe in Johnny freedom car, you can just play pacman with the road lines. this prevents you from losing your spot in the "proper" lane, while at the same time denying the assholes on the road access to the front of the line. I find this profoundly satisfying.
Once I made it through construction traffic (which took 2 hours), I now was in 5:00Pm traffic in a very urban Seattle. Which brings us to rule 2.
Rule 2: Right Wing Conservative Nutjob Radio is your friend. In the occasion that you find yourself irrationally angry at every driver on the road, you may from time to time be tempted to lash out. Lashing out sometime comes with unfashionable and embarrassing arrest. To avoid losing touch with your humanity, instead find something worth being angry about. Right Wing Nutjobs are a dime a dozen on the radio, and provide a venue for you the listener to experience shock and irony. Spin-puppets such as Sean Hannity get a great deal of airtime. use the traffic "experience" to practice your rebuttals, make it into a game. For instance, every time someone refers to the liberal media, honk your horn (I could tell lots of people were playing.). These shows usually drag on for a uncomfortably long amount of time, but in stop and go traffic, it's good to have something else to focus on. Think of it like this: You can have a greater opinion of your fellow commuter, if in comparison you provide the champion assholes of all time.
Well, at least it makes me eager to forgive. G'day Space Travelers.
A Present for my Spanish Space Traveller
Dear Space Traveler Brien. I found this and thought of you instantly. I was compelled to take a photo of this in Eureka CA, and give it to you.
To me, it'a constant reminder of how poisoned your brain truly is. enjoy.
To me, it'a constant reminder of how poisoned your brain truly is. enjoy.Chapter 7, Verse 1: How to Have a Road Trip 101
Long time no see Space Travelers. It's been a long journey, and I'm sure you're curious how it ended. I'm actually home now in Springfield MO, so from this point forward, I'll be posting retroactively.
I woke up early and my uncle Steven told me that before I go, I needed to have a California omelet. I'm always open to try new foods and so he made me what I will only describe as the most amazing omelet I've ever had. The California variety of omelet is full of real crab meat, mushrooms and avocado. We sat out on his patio and chatted before I left.
It was a shame that traffic would be the way it was through the city. I wanted to see San Fransisco just one more time. Instead and in the interest of economy I went north and took one of the bridges across the bay and ended up just north of Sausilito. And then so it began: I mearged into the famous California 101; the Redwoods Highway.
At first the scenery was less than breath-taking. Small town with banners for pie cook-offs and not a single redwood tree. As I drove further I began seeing redwoods, but they were not the fabled giant redwoods I had seen in books. Soon however, the small towns began to become more sparse and the human presence became less and less. I began noticing larger and larger trees. 
The forest was thick. While the sky was clear, and the sun was bright. At times the canopy was thick enough to block out the sun. in those moments of shade, you would even need to use your headlights.
Ahead of me, I saw many cars pulled over on the shoulder. As I entered the clearing, I noticed what they were looking at, two giant elk. I pulled over for the first time that day and brought my camera. The elk, who seemed to not care about the human presence continued as they were grazing out in the field. After just watching for a while I returned to my car and returned to the task at hand.
Very shortly after the elk, the forest began to become more and more think with trees. As I rounded one corner I saw what would later be verified as the largest tree I would see on this leg of the trip. I quickly pulled into the grove and walked around. While it is not shown in the picture above, their was a tree a little further into the grove that its diameter was equal to the length of Johnny Freedom Car. It was amazing.
I felt so small in this patch of giants. These trees had seen so many years and virtually all of human history as we know it. One tree that had fallen on it's side had been marked with al sorts of dates. I could see markers that corresponded to Columbus's arrival to the Americas, The signing of the US constitution, and when man landed on the moon. Some past visitors to the park had also made their mark. On a few rings I found anniversary dates, the death of a loved one, or the birth of a child. On this great tree, many people had left their mark, and yet the tree still remained virtually barren of history.
While I won't be able to compete for as many years in the history competition with the great trees, I began to think about when my time comes and I fall. I began thinking about my own rings, and the markers people would put on them. I have many layers and like the great trees of the redwoods when I'm gone, I wonder what kinds of things I will have seen.
Even further back in the grove I found a river and moreover a swimming hole. This place like everywhere around me had seen little human interaction (relatively speaking). The water here was clearer than any natural body I have ever seen. I could see all the way down to the bottom, which to my best guess was about 25 ft. The water was not warm, but not cold either. I could see that the river ran shallow for a great distance before opening up into this area. I hopped from rock to rock and sat on a large one in the middle of the river. I watched as a young married couple came in from the same trail as me. They had two dogs and the dogs were very excited about playing in the river. The sun was warm, but a cool breeze made this moment very comfortable. I sat their for a while but began to remember how many miles I would need to cever that day to be able to make it to Seattle the next. I returned to shore. 
when I got to shore I realized how long it had been since I skipped stones. I began searching the ground for a nice smooth flat one to throw. after finding several good candidates, I went to where the water was most calm and began tossing the rocks. after about 5 stones, I remembered the Peanuts comic strip and how Linus scolds Charlie Brown for throwing th stone into he ocean saying howlong it took for that stone to make it to the shore. I decided I wouldn't quit until I successfully skipped a stone across the river. After finally making it over to the other side I thought about the history of man and throwing stones. I was inclinded to ask...
In my second year English class at my community college we read the famous short story "The Lottery," where a woman is stoned to death by her own village after her name is selected at random from a box. In the story even her toddler child is given a few pebbles to throw. This story of meaningless death for whatever reason overwhelmed my mind, and I began to explore what stones I have thrown in my life, and what stones have been thrown at me. I thought about our culture here in the USA, and how we still throw stones. We throw stones at our homosexuals, our single mothers, our poor. We throw stones at those who don't agree with us. I still can remember Republicans on the news telling America that protesting was "anti-troop" and that it would only make it harder for what they had to do. What is throwing a stone? Throwing a stone is the statement "You are not one of us," and then I thought about Mrs. Hutchenson and the Lottery, I thought about how integral throwing stones had become in our society. I decided to set the remainder of my stones down, but I kept two for myself.
Being as pleased as I was with this grove and the river, I returned to my car. I asked the gentle man above to take my photo, he agreed. We talked shortly after that. He asked if I had seen the river and the swimming hole. I told him yes that I had. He said it was his favorite place to fish. Naturally I asked if he caught much there, but he said no. Instead, he replied, this place is great because every once and a while, a car load of girls will run out of the woods, strip of all o their clothes and dive into the water. It was a shame I didn't bring my fishing equipment I thought, but still I knew I was on a time crunch.
From that point on, I made some really good time. I made it to Eureka, and saw my first Northern California coastline. Seeing the beach without thousands of people on it was very different. Occasionally, I'd see a pod of surfers enjoying the privacy and the yet to be challenged waves. Every cove and beach would have at least one giant rock sticking up out of the water. I imagine each rock to have a name given to it by the locals. 
Just before the 101 would cut back inland, the sun began to set. The clouds, like giant curtains began to close on today's performance. I would not see the ocean again until Seattle.
I made it all the way to Eugene OR that night. I slept in my car for the first time. That day, I drove from 8:30AM to 11:45PM.
Well Space Travelers, I promise to get you caught up as fast as I can, so please don't throw any stones. Until the next chapter, ja mata ne.
I woke up early and my uncle Steven told me that before I go, I needed to have a California omelet. I'm always open to try new foods and so he made me what I will only describe as the most amazing omelet I've ever had. The California variety of omelet is full of real crab meat, mushrooms and avocado. We sat out on his patio and chatted before I left.
It was a shame that traffic would be the way it was through the city. I wanted to see San Fransisco just one more time. Instead and in the interest of economy I went north and took one of the bridges across the bay and ended up just north of Sausilito. And then so it began: I mearged into the famous California 101; the Redwoods Highway.
At first the scenery was less than breath-taking. Small town with banners for pie cook-offs and not a single redwood tree. As I drove further I began seeing redwoods, but they were not the fabled giant redwoods I had seen in books. Soon however, the small towns began to become more sparse and the human presence became less and less. I began noticing larger and larger trees. The forest was thick. While the sky was clear, and the sun was bright. At times the canopy was thick enough to block out the sun. in those moments of shade, you would even need to use your headlights.
Ahead of me, I saw many cars pulled over on the shoulder. As I entered the clearing, I noticed what they were looking at, two giant elk. I pulled over for the first time that day and brought my camera. The elk, who seemed to not care about the human presence continued as they were grazing out in the field. After just watching for a while I returned to my car and returned to the task at hand.Very shortly after the elk, the forest began to become more and more think with trees. As I rounded one corner I saw what would later be verified as the largest tree I would see on this leg of the trip. I quickly pulled into the grove and walked around. While it is not shown in the picture above, their was a tree a little further into the grove that its diameter was equal to the length of Johnny Freedom Car. It was amazing.I felt so small in this patch of giants. These trees had seen so many years and virtually all of human history as we know it. One tree that had fallen on it's side had been marked with al sorts of dates. I could see markers that corresponded to Columbus's arrival to the Americas, The signing of the US constitution, and when man landed on the moon. Some past visitors to the park had also made their mark. On a few rings I found anniversary dates, the death of a loved one, or the birth of a child. On this great tree, many people had left their mark, and yet the tree still remained virtually barren of history.
While I won't be able to compete for as many years in the history competition with the great trees, I began to think about when my time comes and I fall. I began thinking about my own rings, and the markers people would put on them. I have many layers and like the great trees of the redwoods when I'm gone, I wonder what kinds of things I will have seen.
Even further back in the grove I found a river and moreover a swimming hole. This place like everywhere around me had seen little human interaction (relatively speaking). The water here was clearer than any natural body I have ever seen. I could see all the way down to the bottom, which to my best guess was about 25 ft. The water was not warm, but not cold either. I could see that the river ran shallow for a great distance before opening up into this area. I hopped from rock to rock and sat on a large one in the middle of the river. I watched as a young married couple came in from the same trail as me. They had two dogs and the dogs were very excited about playing in the river. The sun was warm, but a cool breeze made this moment very comfortable. I sat their for a while but began to remember how many miles I would need to cever that day to be able to make it to Seattle the next. I returned to shore. when I got to shore I realized how long it had been since I skipped stones. I began searching the ground for a nice smooth flat one to throw. after finding several good candidates, I went to where the water was most calm and began tossing the rocks. after about 5 stones, I remembered the Peanuts comic strip and how Linus scolds Charlie Brown for throwing th stone into he ocean saying howlong it took for that stone to make it to the shore. I decided I wouldn't quit until I successfully skipped a stone across the river. After finally making it over to the other side I thought about the history of man and throwing stones. I was inclinded to ask...
"why do we throw stones?"
In my second year English class at my community college we read the famous short story "The Lottery," where a woman is stoned to death by her own village after her name is selected at random from a box. In the story even her toddler child is given a few pebbles to throw. This story of meaningless death for whatever reason overwhelmed my mind, and I began to explore what stones I have thrown in my life, and what stones have been thrown at me. I thought about our culture here in the USA, and how we still throw stones. We throw stones at our homosexuals, our single mothers, our poor. We throw stones at those who don't agree with us. I still can remember Republicans on the news telling America that protesting was "anti-troop" and that it would only make it harder for what they had to do. What is throwing a stone? Throwing a stone is the statement "You are not one of us," and then I thought about Mrs. Hutchenson and the Lottery, I thought about how integral throwing stones had become in our society. I decided to set the remainder of my stones down, but I kept two for myself.
Being as pleased as I was with this grove and the river, I returned to my car. I asked the gentle man above to take my photo, he agreed. We talked shortly after that. He asked if I had seen the river and the swimming hole. I told him yes that I had. He said it was his favorite place to fish. Naturally I asked if he caught much there, but he said no. Instead, he replied, this place is great because every once and a while, a car load of girls will run out of the woods, strip of all o their clothes and dive into the water. It was a shame I didn't bring my fishing equipment I thought, but still I knew I was on a time crunch.From that point on, I made some really good time. I made it to Eureka, and saw my first Northern California coastline. Seeing the beach without thousands of people on it was very different. Occasionally, I'd see a pod of surfers enjoying the privacy and the yet to be challenged waves. Every cove and beach would have at least one giant rock sticking up out of the water. I imagine each rock to have a name given to it by the locals. Just before the 101 would cut back inland, the sun began to set. The clouds, like giant curtains began to close on today's performance. I would not see the ocean again until Seattle.I made it all the way to Eugene OR that night. I slept in my car for the first time. That day, I drove from 8:30AM to 11:45PM.Well Space Travelers, I promise to get you caught up as fast as I can, so please don't throw any stones. Until the next chapter, ja mata ne.
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