3/25/13

3/25 - Huge family gathering. Ate pie all day. Kristin met most of the whole family. I'm not awesome around big crowds - even family. Joined the 3-Speed Society and bought a lot of zines.

3/24/13

3/24/13 Charlie and I made it back to Kennett. Left at 4:17am. (See notebook).

3/14/13

poker night. last day at Fairmount Bicycles.

3/13/13

Told shelly that I'm moving to Kennett after my walk.

3/12/13

Stashed all the building materials down by the building site. (Big pile of found 2x4s and plywood, stored under a tarp while I leave to walk on some amount of the Appalachian Trail.)

3/11/13

taxes. cleaned rooms and packed for the AT. Need a few things, but feel reasonably ready.

3/10/13

Got 4 matching windows! $180. Came to consensus over breakfast at Satellite: Kristin is okay with the idea of living in an 8x12 next to my folks. I can build that. It's on. She seemed to not like that idea so much before, but either I presented it poorly, or she reconsidered after looking at how much a shitty situation in West Chester costs. I'll build us something, we'll see what happens. Hopefully it's great. There is great potential. No rent means more savings and ability to adventure. I'm ready to try something different in life. I'm ready for the change of scenery. I think we'll be happy for awhile with this one: an 8x12 house next to the woods as my parents' new neighbors. || We also ate some shrooms and had a good relaxing evening.

3/9/13

dave visited for a bit.

3/8/13

My mood is up and down. It sucks. I'm getting burnt out. I don't know what I'm getting.

Dumpstering Building Materials II

Hell yeah. Now we're done playing games. I just got out of a dumpster on 23rd Street, and I owe somebody a thank you. Many beautiful half-sheets of plywood and other dimensional lumber are now weighing down my van pretty good. I easily got enough 3/4" T&G plywood and studs to complete a professional by-the-book subfloor. Throw in a fat bag of insulation from yesterday and things are looking pretty prosperous.

Dumpstering Building Materials

The games have begun. I borrowed a 42 gallon contractor bag from work and marched toward a dumpster on Penn Campus. They keep throwing stuff away. I packed the bag overly super-full of batts of fiberglass insulation. I would much rather do that than pay for it.

I carried the bag Santa-style for ten minutes and dropped it in a convenient location. Thus began the great scroungeabout.

I've been eyeballing the local building material waste-stream on my long walks and today I decided it was time to strike. I cranked on the van and made a big loop. First stop was the big bag of insulation. Check.

I took and apprehensive pause outside the dumpster on 23rd Street, but then grew some balls and just hopped in. I lined up stud after stud beside the dumpster and it was looking pretty good. Nice clean straight boards for the most part, but plenty of nails to watch the fuck out for.

It was a fantastic haul. I can't wait to start making various small houses.

Working on 3-D modeling.

I'm getting better at Sketchup. I'm putting together some nice 3-D models of house framing, and now I'm able to make the models in a more efficient way that's easier to edit too. I have a lot to learn, but I'm getting a good grasp on the basics. There's a lot less molasses in my movements. Some of these ideas might be worth putting screws into wood soon.

Daisy le dog.

I don't know. Talk about Daisy.

[EDIT 1/19/2014: Daisy is a dog. She is Kristin's small dog, and as we date for a longer and longer time, responsibility and ownership begins to shift. Daisy is now our dog, and we're more of a family of folks. When she pees on the rug, she is mostly still Kristin's dog.]

Patched things up with Alex.

Patched things up with Alex. Huge deserved apology was given to him. WTF happened to me? I'm incredibly relieved to have it in the past, and I'm happy to put distance between me and that.

Study Shack

Raked a clean space and laid out deck blocks for what I've been calling the "Study Shack" in my head. Looks like it will be a 6 1/2' x 8' tiny room with a loft. I have two big windows, and I could use some small ones for upstairs. A door would also be helpful.

Scrap Metal? Is that an idea?

What should I do next for work? Collect scrap metal? That seems potentially awesome. The thrill of the hunt. I love it. Make my own hours driving around? Boom.

My time there is limited...

 Further upsetness about the ongoing Alex deal. Eventually I just apologize. He irritates the shit out of me, but this argument is fruit from a bad tree. It all stems from an overreaction on my part, so the following character assassinations should never have come to light. It doesn't make me like him, but I have self preservation and other interests on the line too. I won't be at the shop forever. This is just a reminder that my time there is limited.

Kristin's piano and voice students' recital at Milkboy.

Tail Spinners Bicycle Swap Meet in Newark, Delaware.

Newark swap meet day. A fantastic situation. Then people came over.

[EDIT: 1/19/2014 - this swap meet ended up making me a lot of money. It took a long time to get around to listing things on eBay, but the eventual profits were excellent. A Serotta purchased for $400 eventually sold for $1000. If only these swap meets could happen once a week.]

2/22/13

Hung out with Dave. I snapped out at Alex earlier, and it's hard to think about anything else. It hit a deep nerve, and I'm starting to hate him.

2/21/13

Ride home with Shelly. Found out Alex emailed her to complain about the shop being dirty. WTF.

2/20/13

Walked to work and back with the new shoes. I'll be fine. Penn construction has tons of shit in dumpsters. Today, it was brand new doors with a huge glass window. If you have patience and walk around, you can build a mansion for free.

2/19/13

Making a new Sketchup model of a knock-off Epu. I'm enjoying getting better with Sketchup, and especially being able to model every tiny detail down to each individual cutout piece of building material. Every dimension and overlap down to the 3/8ths inch spacing between boards on the porch can be accounted for. Once I am finished with this model, I will be ready to build. My plans have changed many times, back and forth - but this might be the final model and design.

I'm having fun.

Sizing up lumber and the Tiny House building site.

In Kennett. Spent hours in Lowes looking at everything I might need to build a house. I was happy to see good prices on nice straight 2x lumber, and I saw everything I might need. The exploratory expedition filled in some pieces of the puzzle, and gave me some new ideas.

I looked at a potential building site - right next to my folk's place. Reasonably separated and not very visible from anywhere. It shouldn't be in the way at all. Looked at zoning regulations for Kennett, and found the newest "plan" that addresses housing needs. The plan lists details and ideas that fit perfectly with the idea of having a small auxiliary dwelling. Will my parents be comfortable with this idea? Can I build here? I'm aching to build, and this is a spot where I can. I like Kennett. I'd like to quit paying rent, finish college and get a job having something to do with carpentry or building. I'd like to try something new.

2/17/13

Lazy Sunday with Kristin in Philly. She has been feeling ill, so I stayed home and we made a day of it. I was thinking of going to Kennett, but stuck around instead. We ate brunch and got groceries. Still just all the super healthy stuff.

[EDIT 1/19/2014 - Around this time, we were shopping at the co-op in West Philly. You couldn't buy an unhealthy thing there. We were eating well.]

2/16/13

Tim's thing

[EDIT: 1/19/2014 - If I recall correctly, this thing-event was eating some deer that Tim's brother shot too much of, and watching some Top Gear with people including that guy who thinks he's pretty hot stuff, but to me seems not. I was happy to occupy some sofa and let time pass.]

2/15/13

Walked to and from. Feeling ready.

2/14/13

VDay, and Kristin is feeling ill. Skipped the party.

Working on the Phillips 3-Speed

Finished the Phillips bike. Walked to work; rode home.

(EDIT 2/19/2014 - The Phillips is a 1971 English 3-Speed. I rode it in stock form last winter, but decided on some upgrades. I re-tapped the bottom bracket shell to standard English threads, and re-built the original hubs into new alloy double-walled rims. I can't say it makes a huge difference, but the stopping power is improved. Steel rims in snow means a little planning is needed before you come to a real stop.)

2/12/13

Walked to and from. Feel like I really need to leave Philly. It's time for me to go.

2/11/13

Monday in kennett. Asked James about potentially building a tiny house at the farm. Awkward.

2/10/13

Lazy Sunday off w/ Kristin.

2/9/2013

Saturday - Su Tao w/ Dave Gary and Danielle

2/8/2013

Friday - Working on various Sketchup ideas, but it's hard to be motivated. I'm scatterbrained and unhappy. I'm afraid that I might not be being true to myself. Whatever that means.

REI Thru-Hiker's Class.

REI thru-hikers class. Left work early feeling shitty and almost melancholy, and barely went to the REI thing.

(EDIT 1/19/2014 - But, I did go to that class. I sat with other people who were planning to walk a long distance. I've already ridden some bicycles pretty far, and driven around in a van. I know what it's like to be dirty and hungry and lonely. I know what it's like to come home after that sort of rompabout. I know what it's like to forget what being hungry and lonely feels like. Right when you forget is when you start to romanticize it anew, and that is when you make plans to subject yourself to a new round of adventure. I already did this a few times.

Some people at the REI class are desperate for their first taste. I hope they get their adventure, and I hope it helps. I no longer feel a nervous intimidation. I am not - at this point - desperately seeking information printed on the inside of another person's cranium. One young man here is. He is trying to read the inside of my skull, and all I can do is hope that he finds what he needs. His plan is to walk the Appalachian Trail from north to south alone. Even in a group, that is a tall order. Alone - the odds are stacked. As a first adventure, and with the prospective adventurer seeking brotherhood from my sorry carcass here - at this meeting - makes me doubt his success. I want him to succeed, but I can't say I even expect that from myself. This is all okay for me, but I want better for him. He needs to get dirty and talk to other weirdos who ask all the big questions.)

2/6/13

Finished the Roberts 3-Speed. What a delight.

(EDIT: 1/19/2014 - I still haven't ridden the Roberts more than 10 miles since I bought it. It's still set up as a 3-Speed with an SRF3 hub. I've purchased a 1952 Sturmey Archer AM hub from a seller in England, and only a few days ago did I get around to pulling out the internals to compare them to the internals on the AW & SRF3. My plan is to ride the Roberts with a few different setups to compare the different gearing ratios and quality of the hubs. Then, I want to improve the internals of the hubs with the help of an engineer, a CAD drawing, and a machine shop. It's an old idea, and it's moving slowly.)

2/5/13

Went into work for a few hours due to other people not being able to. Sick or fixing cars...

2/4/13

Day off spent in Philly relaxing.

2/3/13

Day off with Kristin. Sunday is activity day. Went to AIDS thrift, etc. It was pretty great.

2/2/13

I went two days without taking Adderall. What's the point? there was nothing to get accomplished. Well I took it this morning, and it's a tremendous help at home. We'll see at what point in the day it wears off...

2/1/13

Home alone to watch the Shield some more. Smoke more pot. Had a pretty bad day - slow and not busy at work. Probably making the Roberts bicycle into a 3 speed. But tonight, I didn't even learn more about Sketchup. I just watched some tv and went to sleep.

1/29/13

Kyler got my tent in Kennett. Then people all had dinner at Evan/Geras' later. I'm learning Sketchup and designing a van-size house.

1/28/13

Dreary day in Kennett. Aunt Pat is visiting. Went to Lancaster to drop off Aunt Pam. I'm... depressed. It's cold and dark, and I'm... depressed.

Roadside America (The Miniature Village.)

Roadside America day. I had the fantastic (not sarcastic) idea of taking Kristin to see one of the best displays of kitschy Americana to be found. We had a great time pushing buttons to make small trains run. I have always been nuts about anything miniature, and I am also a fanatic about eccentrics. This place hits it out of the park.

We also checked out some great antique shops and took the long way home.

Aaaaand, I hate the winter. Maybe I'll make a van-sized practice house. Just add that to the list of huge projects that I've thought about doing. Some gets done, some gets forgotten, life keeps going, and I feel like I'm dropping the ball.

Hanging out.

7:21pm. The end of another 4-day work week. Hanging out with Sara.

more stuggles of the privileged.

I got needlessly upset over a small deal. It put a dent in the beginning of my day. But I made it through and eventually made it home where I watched several more episodes of The Shield. This is my version of semi-hibernation. If I could stop working and just stay inside until the temperatures are back in the 60's to 70's, I might just do that. All of this living really feels like a struggle.

Traffic ticket shits on cold shitty day.

Another freezing day, and it looks like it took two cops to issue me a ticket for lapsed inspection. Next came anxiety, and a quick trip to buy new stickers for the van. Then I went to traffic court thinking I could deal with this sooner rather than later. I don't even want to get into the details about how backwards that place and my line of thinking were.

I'm slogging through a Philadelphia winter. Am I insane? We all must be insane.

I'm not made for winter.

Feels like 13 degrees? This blows. I'm not made for this.

Tiny House plans need more time and dollars.

Tiny House will take some more time for $$. Meanwhile, a small table saw and wood planer would be fun to own. With those items, I might be able to get more creative with customizing the dimensions of "reclaimed" lumber. I also need to look into more sources for the reclaimed lumber. This is going to be a slow project with a huge learning curve. I feel ready, but I'm not in a hurry.

My version of hibernation.

Skipped Kennett this week. Opted to spend my precious time smoking and chain-watching The Shield.

Extra work day.

Picked up an extra day to cover for Alex. Missed hanging out with Kristin all day, but the extra money won't hurt.

Pizza Party

Saturday: Pizza Party at Shelly / Jo / Arden's. It was fun, but I'm not as eager to mix it up as I used to be.

One More Trike.

7:21; just left work. Sent a trike home with my cousin and her husband - as a gift for my aunt on Sunday. An awesome gift.

Alec stopped by the shop for some bikework. It's cold as hell.

Feeling domestic today.

It turns out I have a strong domestic undercoating. I want to build us a house and secure a piece of the Earth where nobody can impede. I want to have children and protect my family. I'm 30 and I mean business. I mean business in my own special way.

"Ate Salad." check.

Dear Journal,
Got home from work and smoked and had an awesome salad when Kristin got home.

Made some more shelves.

Made some custom shelves for next to my bed. I didn't spend a dollar. Everything down to the nails was scraps and cutoffs. I got some new speakers. They're tiny and they sound as good as the big bastards I've been lugging around. I checked out a 7'x16' trailer at Sharp Road and 41.

Old Phones: Doesn't ache when they break.

Shopped at Mariposa (the healthy West Philly co-op); went to Kennett (the town where I'm from). Got a spare old flip phone activated. I kinda like it better. I love owning stuff that doesn't ache to break.

New Sunday Policy:

Sunday: Out to brunch with Kristin's friend and boyfriend. The Gold Standard. It was good. Sunday is errands and hangout time.

Phone crapped out. That voids the Droid.

Phone crapped out on my walk home. Should have been more careful, but a guy like me walks in the rain sometimes. Looks like a Droid isn't up for it.

Watching 'The Shield.'

Watching a shitload of The Shield. (It's winter. Fuck the outdoors.)

Dog Party after work.

Sara comes over, there's a dog party again, and Kristin cooks foods.

Walking home.

Walking home with a spring in my step. Getting fresh herbs.

Dumpsters, trailers, movies...

Watching Unforgiven. Got new Adderall. Stopped by some dumpsters on my way to Philly. Could easily get almost all of the building materials for free with a little bit of dedication. Looked at a lot of trailers on CL as well.

Don't push buttons to burn children.

I need lumber. I'm looking around for sources of salvaged building materials. 2x4's, sheets of plywood and foam board insulation are the hot ticket items. Saving money on that stuff will make me feel better about blowing money on a new trailer spec'd just how I want it. Using salvaged lumber is also more closely in line with my personal code of trying not to buy fucked up stuff that hurts people and the Earth. A good rule of thumb is to buy used. If you buy something used, then you aren't affecting the supply stream so directly. If you buy a new piece of lumber, then you're effectively pushing a button that says "must replace purchased lumber; must cut down new tree." I picture this button whenever I buy a new pair of shoes: "must replace purchased shoes; must burn foreign children in factory fire."

I hate to be the guy that pushes the button to burn children. I'm not exactly a no-impact sobbing hippie, but I'm not asleep at the wheel, either. I'm just an average guy who would never mind seeing some evil corporate fuckfaces forced to choke on their own baloney. You know. In the nicest way possible...

Slow plans for a small house.

Stress. Everyone is all stressed out. Everyone feels stuck. Not enough income; no idea how to make more. We have an apartment that has become high on traffic and low on privacy and comfort. It's time to make tracks, but to where? I don't want to pay more in rent, and I abhor the idea of signing a lease and paying for utilities if I can avoid it.

I'm making slow plans to build a tiny house. It takes some imagination. Not the house itself - that can be a rather cookie-cutter and straightforward construction - but having faith that you'll find a person willing to let you park it on their land. You have to imagine that working out, and you have to have faith that the crapshoot will lead to a better life.

I'm one for rolling the dice. It looks like a good move, and if I fail, I still won't have lost too much to manage. That's my kind of gamble. So calm down, dear. This isn't a big deal. It's an odd deal, but not a bad one. No matter what, we'll all go on living like the privileged Americans we've always been. So lets get our groceries and smoke our pot. Leave the housing to me.

I feel ready enough. (For the Appalachian Trail hike)

I walked to work and back, and all of that is fine and easy. I still need some stuff for the A.T. hike in a few months: water filter, hiking boots? I feel ready enough. I'm ready to have a little romp around time. I'm prepared for a little out-n-back adventure by myself again. I'm physically feeling good. I'm all good except for my butthole, which has some kind of hemorrhoid-type device which I wouldn't mind being without.

One day at a time.

Smoked a lot. Started sketching out Tiny House plans and making lists of building materials. I hate this fucking apartment now. I don't know how fair that is, but I don't want to be here now. The traffic level is way up, and I barely feel like leaving my room.

Called out sick-ish.

Stayed home from work due to hemorrhoid-like deal combined with general lethargy. Made excellent dinner feat. Brussels Sprouts, Veggie Fryup, Rice and The Like.

Tiny House eBooks

Another day off of work, and a hemorrhoid or similar is ruining it. I'm very uncomfortable. My butthole hates me, and my room is full of mice. How did I get here? The important development is that I got another new eBook. It seems like each one is better than the last: LaMarr Alexander's "Off Grid Guide" was a good display of how simple building a structure can be. The Tiny House Book by Jay Shafer is full of inspiration and information about the history of our zoning and code obstacles, and more importantly how to overcome them - but Jay's book is scant on building information, and his (admittedly desirable, worthwhile, and awesomely detailed) plans cost a small fortune at about $1,000. This newest eBook is the best. It is heavy on simple step-by-step design and building information tailored specifically to small houses. Each eBook purchase was a slight gamble, but each one paid off. I've grown a bit more confident with each new resource, and I believe that I have fair odds of being successful in building a small house that I can live in for many years - or sell for about the cost of materials if another structure takes over.

Forks have 3-4 tines. I'm going home.

I woke up on Kristin's friend's boyfriend's twin bed with a clear head. I'm ready for another year. Tape it right to the end of the last one, but draw me a line so I can see where it began. (These words are that.)

I got a nice lightly used Kelty backpacking-style backpack. It was at a Goodwill Outlet in town, and I paid $2.13 with tax. I'll never be homeless. If things get bad, I can just crawl into this bag and sleep.

7:21pm had me halfway home. Kristin and I were paused outside an Italian restaurant in White Plains. I was a step beyond hungry, but the look of the place made me want to don a jetpack and take the short way home.

I hated the place and I judged everyone inside. I judged a fast and accurate synopsis, and I wanted to shoot the guy with shingles. I wanted to flip something through a window. The man-sized ornamental fork on the wall had five tines. They're messing with me. I was handcuffed and slapped with a thousand lazy hands.

We fought on the way home about nothing. We're both so awesome that it gets too easy. We have to pry pretty deep and I sound like an asshole when I defend myself. It's my tone of voice and how I resist admitting fault due to rarely being wrong. It was nice to get home to a clean room. That's all anyone needed.

Celebrating New Years with suits.

Oh, I'm sassy. I put on my sassy attire because this is New Years. This is New Years and all these fuckers are wearing suits. Nobody told me about that.

Imagine my surprise when I stepped into a party full of young people wearing suits and I'm dressed like a jackass having sex with a clown. I didn't lose any points, because I don't know anyone here. I'm up in Boston at a house, and the people here in suits - kill me twice - work for an outfit called "Wine Riot." It's something to do with "tastings."

I would have danced at midnight. I would have smiled and sweated and acted wackier than I felt. But before midnight? I was a flamboyant mouse amidst heavy drinking. I was a man who couldn't squeeze into the corner far enough - a man pushed into the corner so hard that time almost stopped.

These cats and clowns couldn't get enough champagne. This fancy party would have been better if:

1) I still got drunk these days
2) I knew some people
3) Kristin was having an okay time

Fuggit. I would have been happier at home with copious dope smoke.

Spending time in Princeton MA

A day like this doesn't take much out of a guy. I woke up well after the sun had a head start. I emerged from a nest made under a down blanket, and the room was already up to... say... 50 degrees!

Waffles first. Actually, I already had a hot mug of coffee toasting my hands by the time I watched the waffles being made. The folks of the house seem like good ones, and I'm happy to have time to re-evaluate Kristin's friend. She seems great.

Vacation in and around Boston.

Vacation starts now. Kristin and I packed a few things and a small dog into her small car. We cleaned the room so we can return to a tidy den in 2013. Then we left.

The rain turned to snow, and by the time we hit the New Jersey Turnpike, it was increasingly clear that the conditions would only be getting worse. Apps confirmed this. I took the wheel and didn't let go until we were at our destination - about an hour west of Boston at the home of one of Kristin's closest friend's folks's place.

Many harrowing miles had passed beneath the balding tires of the beat-up white Echo. But we made it. I slid into a freshly shoveled spot in the driveway surrounded by deep white powder. Who said we wouldn't make it? I said we definitely would. I was bred for this. My family drives in poor weather just for kicks. We eat sandwiches full of rocks and cookies baked with broken glass. And if you won't believe that, then believe this: we don't hide in the garage when it snows.

I put it in park, snapped my fingers, and we were watching the glowing embers in a woodstove.

The count was off.

7:21pm: Upset about a till that doesn't add up after work. $9.80 short, and I can't manage to work out why.

Eating food that is real food.

Dear Journal,

It's cold, and I'm still a wuss about it.

This day was all about immediately taking steps toward healthier eating. Less poisonous eating. It worked just fine. Soda is out. Diet soda is out. Crazy manufactured fake food is out. I'm looking at food in a completely different light.

Eating better food starting now.

I didn't realize to what extent my typical diet is horrendous. Fortunately, a documentary filled me in. As the movie played, Kristin and I watched the experts explain the details about what I already sorta knew. The folks in the documentary didn't seem judgmental, just factual. I was left to scold myself.

The movie had a profound effect. The facts about corporate food and diet fads were laid out, and alternate suggestions were made. Eat more vegetables and fruits. Our eating habits will make an immediate and drastic change. We will be talking about this documentary for days.

Tiny House seems likely.

Dear Journal,
Spent last night at Kristin's. Went to Kennett for Christmas morning. Got popcorn. Lots. Got Under Armour baselayers and some books about the A.T. that should be very useful. Went to Kristin's folks's again for a second holiday meal and more gifts. Got a book on Alternative Building which is already an excellent read. I've been researching building so much recently.

I've come to the conclusion that a real Tiny House - Tumbleweed style - makes a lot of sense. I'd like to build one cheaper, though. That's the current plan, but as always the "current plan" is an evolutionary process.

I bought the "Tiny House Book" in PDF, too. I also talked to Karl [ed note: brother-in-law] about the potential future plan of buying land to build small houses on. But, like always, I'm the ONLY one saving money. So it's all on me for the most part - if I want to build a small house community, I'll have to work towards doing that by myself. I'll have to have most of it in place. If you build it THEN they will come - convincing people to think and plan in line with your own hypothetical dreams is impractical at best.

A pleasant Christmas Eve.

Dear Journal,
10mg of borrowed adderall gets me stiff-brushing dog hair out of the Waffle House carpet. Powerful stuff. Went directly to Kristin's folkses, where I am comfortable. It's nice. Snow on Christmas Eve, and I'm in a good mood. It's going to work out. It can't NOT work out. I'm invincible. The only way to stop me is to kill me. 

A fucked up lot and a slap that won't happen.

I was up until 3am reading about FHA-insured mortgages and HUD houses. I'm trying to collect and examine the marbles in my brain. I'm counting the marbles again to make sure they're all there. A stroke of genius one moment is instant lunacy in the next.

Am I one man? Are these my hands on the wheel?

I drove to a fucked up abandoned lot at 39th and Girard. I peered through what was left of the fence and took inventory of the interior. A beat up box truck, a pile of broken concrete blocks, piles of dirt, various vehicles and a resilient forgotten tree. The area is East Parkside, and it is right behind the Philadelphia Zoo. Access to the river trails is nearly immediate, and open land and parks are a block away; over the bridge. The empty lot is for sale, and it could be yours tomorrow for $10,000. You can do whatever you want there and nobody would bat an eye.

I picture a Truck House or a House Truck. I picture a structure to live in, a garden and a workshop. I picture conforming loosely to code and zoning. Above all, I picture two middle fingers to paying rent and anyone telling me where to sleep. My hands want to build something that looks like art and feels like home. I have two hands for hi-fives, or one for a smack in the man's fucking mouth.

Running low on drugs.

Dear Journal,
Freezing shitty no-Adderall day. Running out of weed, and don't know how to restock. Plus holidays might make that difficult. Not happy. Walked to work and back. Got home exhausted, hungry, and ... exhausted.

Mortgages | Walking

Dear Journal,
Home alone. Ate pasta. Watched some Twin Peaks, etc. Looked up info on mortgages and learned in detail exactly how much I CAN'T afford or EVER be expected to be approved for. I'll find some answer. Walked to work and back.

Work and whatnot.

Dear Journal,
Shelly is going away for awhile. I finished building a small 3-Speed for Nat at work. I got a ride in with Kristin and walked home.

Cleaning spills and meeting the new roomie.

Dear Journal,
Back to work after a 3-day weekend. A mystery spill at the shop left puddles of black water which dried to become caked on dirt. I spent a good portion of the day with a wire brush scuffing up the dirt. Rode home with Alex. Talked to Sean for awhile at home. He's into orgies and whatnot.

Obsessive and ready.

Dear Journal,
Went nuts trying to get the new watch band on the old watch face. Hacked off 16" of the workbench backboard. Meh. Shit's coming together. It's all coming together slowly but surely. I was up until 5am last night looking at little houses and watching shitty downloaded TV and such. I have a tendency toward obsessing about ideas. Right now I'm back into obsessively thinking about building a house. And getting land. Absolutely off-the-deep-end obsessive. And I'm frustrated that in the meantime I'm moving at a snail's pace. I'm ready now.

Christmas shopping.

Gift selection comes slowly and anti-consumerism muffles the prospects. I threw some money at it. Four websites and some PayPal payments will earn me a passing grade. I bought no gift too corporate, and hopefully I erred toward the accidentally practical. Did you know you wanted this? It's flavored salt. It's a clay snail from Etsy.

For Kristin? Colorful polygons in a row. Three rings from Etsy and a fourth from another artsy source.

Holiday party includes floppy shrimps.

Shrimp and seitan.
Pita triangles; various cheeses.
Two unidentified delicacies.

A smorgasbordette adorned a corner with my six foot frame hovering above. I'm not too shy to use my fingers.

I have ten friends here, and most of them double as co-workers. Drinks are included at this holiday party, and I track down a couple of Cokes. Smiles come easy, and I happily celebrate another successful year at the bicycle shop. This is where I am right now, and this is where I want to be.

I fish another shrimp from the hot sauce, and I wouldn't change a detail.

Social visits, heavy on the skin and smiles.

Dave stopped by my place. We talked. While we sat and chatted, the young friend of my new roomie decided to stop in. He was somewhat strangely shirtless in the cold air, and the contents of my shelves seemed to hold his interest. He asked for nail clippers. I presented two options: 1) I have the larger nail clippers that most people associate with toes. 2) I have small and precise surgical steel clippers which resemble tiny diagonal cutters. Maybe he had a hangnail? No dice. These were not the correct clippers.

Drugs. It must have been some kind of drugs. He read to us from some books which he was mystified to find on the sidewalk. Drugs?

After dinner, we tried closing the door. It almost worked.

Spatulas.

It's 7:21pm and I'm looking at spatulas on eBay. I'm not looking at any particular type. I'm focusing the search on old ones with character which are nevertheless inexpensive. I do not need a spatula.

My next search is for "miniature spatula."

If these words are a window into my life, then you just peeked in on a moment that says a lot. Nobody, most of all me, knows exactly what to make of it.

Reading an eBook about building a cabin.

I bought an eBook from a guy in Utah who lives in a 14x14 foot cabin that he built by himself - even the roof, though he strongly recommends you get a couple extra hands for that part. It's quaint. The eBook and the guy's cabin. The book gives step-by-step directions which have just the right amount of detail for someone like me who is extremely novice but not completely useless. He doesn't explain how to screw two boards together, but he takes the time to explain what somebody with building experience might take for granted.

My $7.00 bought just about that much information and entertainment. I'm happy that the large majority of those bucks are going straight to the guy who is trying to spread information about a simpler way of life. His work deserves financial reward.

The directions are for basic wood-framed construction, and the whole project is highly possible. I'm completely taken with small houses, just like thousands of others. The draw of a simple life without monthly bills is strong. This cabin is the simplest, least expensive and least intimidating I've seen. There are hints and tips for scavenging most of the supplies - but if you want to buy it all up front, the materials come to about $2,000. Or - another way to look at it - about my yearly rent.

A fairly typical day.

I took a ride to work in a car. There's always the feeling that a gasoline-assisted ride to work is a cop out. On some level I actually believe that, but on a more important level I enjoyed a ride to get a breakfast sandwich with my baby. Egg, cheese and tomato on a kaiser roll - call it in; pick it up. They know me when I get there.

I took a pair of wheels with me, and shuffled some other miscellany in the interest of killing multiple birds. I stayed late for a social smoke, and pointed my feet toward home in the cold evening air. Smart layering made the walk an enjoyable one.

Choosing sushi puts my life in perspective.

Certain actions put my life back in perspective. I'm a reasonably pampered white kid (30-year-old), but sometimes it's too easy to frown and forget about the joys of life. Life gets too real-surreal sometimes, and it's tempting to complain. I always picture myself doing something better. I never picture myself in prison or a wheelchair. Things could be worse.

Things couldn't be better. I'm sitting in uptown Kennett Square, holding a pencil in my left hand, and writing little numbers next to the names of sushi rolls. These people? The staff here will bring me whatever I want - I just have to put a number next to. All I can eat.

I'm sitting across from my parents, and I'm conferring with my mother about exactly which rolls we should have delivered to the table. My father is here because somehow he was convinced. He doesn't like sushi, because he believes it all contains raw fish. I've explained that raw fish is not an integral ingredient, and it does not define sushi. You could make sushi with fried chicken in it. It's like a haiku with food - it fits a certain form, but any ol' word is up for grabs. Unless you have an aversion to small circles, there is a sushi you will love.

Say "la vee." Some people have no culture.

Alright, fuckface: Get a coffee from Wawa.

The weather is absolutely devoid of sun. For another day-in-a-row, I've been living inside a cloud. Not good. I drove to Kennett Square and stopped at Home Depot on the way.

Looking at wood was enough to overwhelm and confuse me. I went back to the van to regroup. Alright, fuckface:

1) Get coffee from Wawa
2) Take an Adderall to squash the brain moss.
3) Calmly picture how much of which types of woodshit to buy.  Make notes.
4) Quit being a fucking idiot: I don't have exact plans, sure - but I can return tomorrow to make returns or exchanges.

It worked. I made more shelves. The shelves look great, I made bonus shelves, and I made most of a tall backsplash to go behind my workbench. Backsplash isn't the correct word for what I made. It's a 4' x 5' board to display and organize my tools.

Driving to the grocery store.

Well, I lost it. No palm trees? Fuck this.

A person has the option to be walking around in a place with palm trees. It's a decision. It's not hard. You just stand up wherever you are, and start walking toward where the palm trees are. I'm severely affected by poor weather, and the air has been gray and saturated for days. Driving through Philadelphia just makes me wonder why ANYBODY would EVER choose to be here when the climate has the capacity to do this. It got to me. No wonder everybody is getting shot in the face around here.

I sat shotgun in Kristin's little beat-up car, and I got confused and angry at myself for being here. I'm miserable and I'd like to disappear. It's the weather. With a sliver of sunlight, I'd be okay. With a strong exposure to sunlight, I might even sprout or bloom. Right now I'm nothing. I'm a dead branch, and I barely care if I hit anybody on my way down.

Dinner date at Desi Village.

Kristin cleaned the kitchen with some help from the new guy. I hid in the room and pretended to begin understanding AutoCAD.

The kitchen is lovely. They spent hours, and it's cleaner than I could have imagined. They must have used a chisel inside the microwave, and a pump to muck out the fridge. I realized that I'd better slough off my frown and put on a fresh t-shirt for an impromptu date. I heard her say Indian food, and I took us to a table where they bring it to you. Delicious and a little bit spendy.

Grape leaves and simple systems.

The winter weather is moving in, and I'm beginning to feel sluggish. I'm slow to wake up, slower to smile, and customers are walking into the bicycle shop with much less frequency. I tackle a few minor repairs, make sure that the money made it to the register, and then I go home.

Kristin is teaching lessons in Delaware. It is only me on the wide bed while I watch a droll movie and reflect on the minor tasks which I will not be performing this evening. I will eat a can of stuffed grape leaves and try to understand the different inputs and outputs effecting speed and torque in different applications which use epicyclic gearing. Words, words, words. It's a struggle to grasp the math and engineering of simple systems. I can understand this stuff almost exactly as well as a French newspaper.

Buying weed and books.

At 7:21pm, I was buying some weed and socializing with friends. All I talk about is bicycles, and it's hard to imagine what I would be doing without bicycles as a hobby-job. I need to branch out and expand. Those were my thoughts as I purchased a thick learning manual for AutoCAD from Amazon.

Watching "Red Dawn."

I watched "Red Dawn." It was terrible.

The path of unnecessary resistance.

I spent the night in Kennett. I like this. I like visiting the big cozy house. There's coffee on demand, and the meals are catered. My parents have a high level of acumen and prowess when it comes to stability and comfort. Granite counter tops and a remotely controlled fireplace are examples of what you get from the long con. If you stay focused on the normal path, you can reap the rewards shortly after 60. You have to play the game for a long time, but the machine definitely pays out.

I'm still trying to figure out the meaning of life. The clock's running out if I want to take my chances at being programmed by a society I don't trust. That's all well and good. I'm going to stumble around both mentally and physically, because I'm stubborn and not easily convinced. I'm going to stare at trees and people until my body shuts down and churns back down to particles. I'll keep my eyes peeled for something funny along the way.

Cussing and building. Planning and drilling.

I don't always impress myself. Cussing and a near-breakdown are a possibility around every corner. It's genetics - you should check out my dad - but I have to live with myself, so I have to take responsibility. I'm trying to implement changes and stay productive. I'm trying to make goals and reach them. Realistically, all I can do is go slowly and try not to kick a hole in the wall.

I watched a seven-minute YouTube video about how to make a workbench. I went out to Kennett and started to cut up all of the fucked up old wood that's laying around in my folks's garage. There's wood from a futon that I pulled out of the trash and cut up. There's wood from when I built an apartment in the back of that U-Haul truck. I glued and screwed together a little workbench for my bedroom.

Shelves. We desperately need shelves for the bedroom. (Didn't I live in a van once? Where did all this stuff come from?) I got some long pieces of futon oak, and those decided the height. The width was decided based on what I could get five or six even shelves from without paying money: three feet.

I dragged my new workbench into the center of the garage, and it worked fantastically well as something to put saws and clamps on. I chopped out some plywood shelves, added some reinforcement to the undersides, and thanked Christ that it all fit in my van.

If I ever go to IKEA again, it will be to eat weird food, drink bland coffee and read a book while it rains outside. I'll shit in their bathroom, and I won't wave goodbye. The word "IKEA" being used in the house a few times was sufficient motivation to crank on a drill and read the instructions for installing a blade on my dad's circular saw.

Got AutoCAD running on my machine.

I didn't think it would be easy to get AutoCAD on my computer. First, I thought it was only for PC and I'd have to do some Mac runaround that I'm unfamiliar with. Parallel what-nots or what-have-yous. Second, it's expensive as hell. I assumed that if a program was being sold for thousands of dollars, then it would be difficult to pirate.

The real problem is this: any time I have to do something new, my brain creates hurdles and barriers. Time passes and I think about hypothetical boundaries between myself and what I should be doing.

AutoCAD is about as easy to download as the latest episode of The Walking Dead. As a bonus, I already doubled the RAM on my laptop a couple weeks ago, which will help run this powerful bastard of a program. Best of all, a version for Mac users was released in 2011.

It's 7:21pm. I'm watching a tutorial video which introduces the basic layout and options available when starting AutoCAD. I'm trying to make a circle.

Surthrival of the almost comfortable.

Bright striped socks; microfiber leggings. Not quite pants. I'm looking for a method of forgetting about pants and keeping my legs warm in shorts. I got some one-size mustard-color leggings, and managed to tug them all the way on. With sexxy thigh-high socks over top, the insulating quality was still not the same as cheap pants - but I did enjoy a quick return to faded black shorts. This climate is the pits.

It was Mike's surprise party. His 30th birthday is happening in a couple days. His girlfriend went all-out, and a shindig ensued. A bunch of good people who I like were there. I showed up about hungry enough to punch a horse in the mouth. Fortunately, it was only about an hour or so until Mike showed up, and after he was sufficiently surprised, I was able to start picking stuff off of a huge table of options.

I'm not getting drunk anymore, but I'm still sometimes talking about not drinking, and I did manage to dance in a very minor way. Beyond survival. I'm clasping the thin edge of surthrival, and I can picture myself doing even better soon.

Back home, we got a new roommate. More people is more traffic, and that's one step further from living in a secret pile of dirt surrounded by trees. But if you have to cut the rent down, then sometimes you need a roommate, and this guy seems like a reasonably safe choice. He's clean. He's nice. He has money.