Catching Up With Clive Cussler.

I joined a society which one year ago I did not know existed. The Clive Cussler society is a dues-paying group with an email chat list. When I got tired of pressing a glass to the wall, I paid my dues and was invited into the inner circle. This afforded me the opportunity to purchase a fantastic hat:

I'm an anthropologist at heart, but a curious goofball by nature. In either case, I had to know what was happening in the minds of Clive Cussler's biggest fans.

I read "Shock Wave" in 1996. I was impressed by the intricacies of the plot and the fortitude of Dirk Pitt - Clive Cussler's greatest serial hero. After Shock Wave, I bought the next 50-cent Clive Cussler book that I came across. It was while reading Sahara that it began to dawn on me that all of Clive Cussler's books might be the same. There is a formula.

I stopped reading Cussler books, but I continued to take notice of them. New ones sprouting up all the time; old ones from the 1970's being sold for a dime. Clive Cussler doesn't have the most titles - what interests me is the machine that he has built. He now co-authors with several other men, including his now-grown son, Dirk Cussler. The machine is now a family business, and it churns out several new titles every year.

I wonder about the details of the writing process. I am curious about the nature of the communication between co-authors, and I would be interested to learn how much weight rests on the shoulders of Cussler himself, now in his 80's. I want more information about the demographic of those who join the Society. (I think it's mostly just rich men with Doxa diving watches.)

With nowhere else to turn, I have decided to begin reading all the books. The first Dirk Pitt adventure was written in 1973, and I am moving in chronological order by series.

Based on Amazon.com reviews, and the fact that I've read "Shock Wave," I am getting the picture that Clive Cussler's writing got better with practice. The early books - I've read three so far - are quaint with a tendency to include wince-inducing passages. In the first three books, we establish that Dirk Pitt is a misogynist who is immune to bullets. While reading these books, I've found that I am not rooting for the main character so much as standing on the sidelines with my jaw slightly agape.

Forging ahead: I am now preparing to begin "Raise The Titanic!" In his previous adventure (captured in "Iceberg"), Dirk Pitt faked extreme stereotypical homosexuality in order to lower the defenses of the evil people who were planning to take over the world. He braved some bullets and unfortunate slurs, but his pulp-beaten bones healed enough for him to fuck a woman at the end. I hope the next adventure is equally incredible.

Problems or Blahblems? Anxiety via Task List.

I'm having a real issue with feeling unproductive and inundated by an infinite task list. This is white knuckle fuck-the-world anxiety; probably induced by drugs or a lack thereof.

Regardless, I managed to pack and ship a good pile of eBay items, and then turn around to photograph and list ten more items. For a day with a slow start, this is a good result. But - I haven't found time to work on a single detail of my new house in a week.

The to-do list is long, pals and scouts. The list is long and growing...

I should be happy. I have health and freedom and I've learned how to generate a reasonable income without the suffocation of a blue collar job.

I'm usually happy. As much as I deplore consumer culture, it makes a reliably buoyant elixir to float upon. At 31, I'm still finding my place.

Shipping Internationally with eBay. Seller Protection is a joke.

Shipping outside of the United States is something that makes US eBay sellers cringe. To qualify for "seller protection," you have to ship with a service that provides a tracking number and delivery confirmation. That leaves one option at the post office: Priority Express International. The cost is much higher, and it is typical for prospective buyers to assume you are trying to fleece them. The fact is though, when you ship with a lesser option, the buyer has only to say that they did not receive the item, and their money will be refunded every time - at the seller's expense. Regardless of any mitigating evidence, eBay will automatically rule in favor of the buyer. I understand why eBay does this - they must protect eBay's reputation as a safe place to buy. Unfortunately, the way they achieve this is by systematically throwing sellers under the bus.

It cost me about $300 to learn this lesson. Now, when somebody asks for international shipping, I just quote the high price and give a short robotic explanation.

Sometimes people don't mind:

Hi sandwichbear,

I'm very glad to invite me to your auction and to get chance to take your fine parts. The Topline crank-set is my favorite one and I've been using four sets for my bicycles. I hardly ever see a new one in recent years. I don't mind the shipping cost what you anxious about. Thank you very much.

Kindly Regards,

Takashi from Japan

Takashi seems like an alright guy. Like many Japanese, he is also willing to pay a fair price for good components. If I could lower my shipping costs, I would happily do much more business with Japan.

Installing an inlet, wiring an outlet.

What a difference a pill makes. In spite of a cold wet day, I managed to get some work done.

First up on the chopping block: an alternative to running an extension cord through an open window.
I bought a weatherproof “inlet” for the side of the house. An inlet is like an outlet, but it has three prongs instead of three holes. Since I don’t know the professional way to complete most tasks, I had to piece together a plan from Youtube videos and bits of forum threads. Mix that information with some common sense, and you’re ready for tools.

15mg of borrowed Adderall worked like a charm. Without it, I’d be muttering and cussing. A project like this might bring me close to tears. With it, I’m focused. I know my methods are cobbled together and inefficient, but isn’t that the nature of all self-directed learning?

I slipped a Sharpie out of my pocket, and traced a circle around the guts of the inlet. The circle was two inches in diameter, and I only had a 5/8″ bit. Not to be slowed down, I drilled several little holes instead. I retrieved my new Rotozip to clean it up. The Rotozip didn’t like my siding too much, so I walked back through the snow once more to retrieve a jigsaw. Better. I only had to hack away for another five minutes to get a good fit for the inlet’s guts.

Any person with skill or experience would be done by now. I was still getting started.

From the outside, I ran my 5/8″ bit up at a slight angle, and towards the general area where I wanted to install an outlet inside. The bit broke through the drywall pretty close to where I was aiming. Close enough, anyway – and I allowed myself a wide margin of error.

The next task was to install a plastic outlet receptacle on the inside wall. The Rotozip was right at home for this part. I Sharpie’d around the box, plunged the Rotozip’s bit through the drywall, and found almost immediately that I had traced the box over a stud. That’ll need to be touched up. I traced again, and cut out a rectangle the size of the box. The size was about right, but the depth was about a quarter inch shallow.

Here’s where I started getting fancy.

I used a big flathead screwdriver to slash a bunch of shallow grooves into the foam board insulation. I clawed the insulation out with my fingernails and the flathead blade until the box fit. I know there was a better way, but sometimes the best way ends up being any way that doesn’t stop the project. The box fit.

But I wasn’t done yet.

This type of receptacle – the blue plastic type – attaches to a stud with two pre-installed 3″ nails that are at an angle nearly perpendicular to the face of the box. Maybe a 15 degree angle. The box itself fit the hole, but the nails did not. Even if the nails did fit into the recess I’d carved out – how could I pound them in without cutting out way more drywall?

I cannot recommend this solution, but it worked:

I used the Rotozip to carve out two extended recessed lines where the nails could be nested. The receptacle and the nails were now recessed in the wall where I wanted them – but how could I pound in the nails? I walked through the snow again to retrieve a nail set. A nail set is used to push the head of a nail neatly flush with a surface without damaging the surrounding material. In my case, I eyeballed the angle of the nail and estimated where the nail set could go to line up with the head. Then I jammed the tip of the nail set through the drywall at an angle, and forced it to line up with the head of the nail. This took minor violence. I pounded the nails in using the nail set jammed through the surrounding drywall at a shallow angle. It worked.

I can probably fill the hack-job drywall damage with some spackle – much easier than patching. My drywall job is far from pro, but it looks alright with paint on it. You can see all the joints and a good percentage of the screw heads, but I’ve moved beyond caring about that. I can hang drywall, but it’s going to have some character.

I walked through the snow again, and took a fifteen minute break to review outlet wiring. Brass = hot; silver = neutral; green = ground. I got a clean scrap of Romex, stripped the three wires on one side, and with inefficient meticulousness, I attached the wires in a correct and respectable manner. I slipped the wires into the wall-hole from the outside, and attached the cover plate of the inlet making sure the waterproof gasket was evenly compressed against the siding. I moved inside, stripped the other end of the Romex, and attached the wires to their corresponding outlet screws.

A careful idiot could do this. A careless idiot might get injured, but a careful idiot will do just fine. Double check your work, and plug in something you don’t care about. I had no issues. Now I can plug an extension cord into the outside of my house, and the outlet on the inside will have power. The battery charger is always plugged in – so when you plug in the extension cord, you are “plugging in the house.” I love it.

ADD, SAD, and feelin' bad.

I'm all out of meds. It's a long convoluted process to import brain medicine into this country. You have to convert your money to Bitcoin, send the Bitcoin, verify that it was sent... and then... after awhile... you'll get tracking info. After that, you're home free - you'll have your pills in 7-28 days. Needless to say, I ran out. I'm living the catch-22 reality of being an ADD case that needs to plan in advance for certain things.

An additional encumbrance is how immediately defeated I feel when there is no sunlight. The chemical imbalance is enough to toss me off my rocker. I landed on my ass, and that's the position I've been moping from all day.

I wish I could hide myself in a burlap sack until spring, but sadly, my exposed vitriol sometimes comes in contact with innocent bystanders.

These Arms Are Shotguns TBA, AT&T!

Pipe dope. PTFE tape. That's what I'm messing with.

I'm applying these materials to a propane trunk line, and I am trying to avoid any leaks. I am using great care and focus; heeding advice gleaned from several hours of study.

I'm in the basement. The lights are switched on by a motion detector. Motion detecting lights are great when you are passing through with an armload of groceries. But - what if you're trying to examine your work closely when the lights turn off? It makes you wish your arms were shotguns. You want to lay a thick blanket of blast down on everything in the room.

I'm wrapping tape delicately, and diligently counting my turns and layers. I'm smearing pipe dope carefully for a good even coat on the pipe's threads. My phone rings. Mother... fuckers. AT&T isn't trying to sell me something - they're just bragging about a service that I wouldn't pay for anyway.

"Reply 'stop' to end mktg messages," they offered as an aside.

I text "stop," reflecting that the word choice does little to capture my current sentiment. I'm slightly more cheesed, because I feel like they tricked me into doing something, instead of just waiting for them to all find hell on their own.

More than four minutes later, I get a message confirming that I will not get any more messages. I look to my arms and lament. My needs are delayed again by slow medical science.

Woes and dough; threats and bets.

I don't have as much money as I think I should. In my skool days, I learned about double-entry accounting. I passed that class, and I passed Accounting II, too. But now that I'm a real man living an adult reality, I use the "feel" method of accounting. I don't know where all my money went, but I feel like there should be more.

I've sold thousands of dollars of stuff. After fees, shipping, subscription accounts... battery banks, building materials, life... the margin is thinner than I feel like it should be. So I blew the dust off my book scanning equipment and cast my line into the water. There was a book sale close to home, and I scanned ISBNs for several hours. I didn't win any big scores, but I got scores of little wins.

I will say one more thing - an unbelievable reality: the IRS hunted me down for $18.92 from 2011. Government-owned robotic tracking machines - it is to you this warning is being issued. Read my keystrokes: brimstone will rain precipitously upon those who seek my soft-earned money. My participation in this charade is a mirage. Under this skin and smile, my bones are being whittled to knife points. Test the water. Test the water with the very tip of whichever pinky toe you like the least.

Lagoon of bullshit.

In mid-day, I took my last sip of coffee and stood up to get something done. I lost my keys. It wasn't a pretty sight. There were no pretty words. I knew I was at the bottom rung when I punched the mattress.

I heard an anecdote which I believe took place in Texas. It seems that for some reason when iron was hard to come by, people would burn down an abandoned house to harvest the nails. I was considering this approach when I found my keys in a balled up t-shirt. I wish I didn't find them. I might have done better to touch flame to this lagoon of bullshit.

Shaving off a sliver of the pile.

I sold some bicycles. Shelly was over to work on the farmhouse table again, and I finally let go of some bicycles. I owed Shelly some money, and now she owes some to me.

I still have too many bicycles and too many parts. I have a pile Care Bears, a collection of mini guitars, stacked boxes of Mad Magazines... I have stacks and piles of building materials... I am filling an entire room and closet with eBay items to be sold. I need to start making space and making storage. I need to begin the process of letting things go.

Shaving off a sliver of the pile

I went to two parties. I sat around three fires. I wore zero costumes and drank zero beers.

Soon is the season; soon is the move.

I put a ceiling over the bathroom walls. I marked the floor where the pipe from the shower basin should go. I made a thing that resembles a kitchen counter - the next time might be the charm.

None of that is helping us move into a small house any faster. I need heat and electricity. I need to hook up some propane tanks and battery banks. I haven't done either of those things before, but now would be a great time to try it out. The story is the same as it was last week: first I need to sell bicycle parts, then I need to transfer the money to my bank account, then I buy my way toward progress.

I am ready to move in. Emotionally. There is a lot more work, but the loft is a wonderful place already and the downstairs will fall into place as soon as I install the systems.

My birthday is coming up. Kristin got me a gift, but the manufacturer ruined the surprise. There was a huge photo of the contents pasted on the side of the box. I was glad. I want it now!

Ubiquitous Tiny House Heater

Staying warm is the best when you can look at a tiny fire.

Staring at the thought of building cabinets.

I don't know how to build cabinets, but I have some ideas. I need to get a counter in the kitchen of this tiny house I've been building. I need to decide on a place for the sink, and a place for the tiny oven. Then I need to build a structure to keep those things in their place.

I'm not a carpenter, and I'm not in any danger of becoming some great woodworker. I basically waited until the last minute to start poking my tape measure in all directions. All that did is confirm that I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.

Instructions for cabinets include lots of expensive plywood. The benefit is that there are instructions. I'll try again next time. Today I built something that functions more as figure 8 than anything belonging inside a house. Strike one.

Trash picking the future: Free tiny cabinets.

"Wait... slow down. I want to look at this."

The car slows and the headlights slide past trash.

"Woah woah! Back up slightly. I need the headlights to see what's going on."

The car inches backwards, and our headlights settle on a small pile of wood and steel. I exit the vehicle to get a closer look. There's a grill. There are some futon pieces and some veneered particle board that used to hold shelves. I have no business hoarding more materials, but my brain automatically tries to fit these pieces into a puzzle. Then I see one piece that seems an easy fit.

A small cabinet sits to the side of the pile. Functional knobs and hinges - hell, the whole thing is fine. It just looks inexpensive and dated. Too 90's for a modern renovation, and too cheap to consider refinishing.

I gave it another quick inspection to ensure it was tossed for style and there was no disgusting substance. Clean. I took it home.

For now, it looks like it belongs over a toilet in 1994. I plan to remove the superfluous material over the cabinet portion. With a little effort, it will be a cute set of tiny cabinets. 

Good place for a fuse box? We shall see.

Shipping derailleurs; buying a watch.

It's 7:21pm. In my left hand, I am holding a Campagnolo Record front derailleur. I have it wrapped in a square of bubble wrap, and with my right hand I am trying to tear off a piece of packaging tape. I could use an extra hand for this, but my honed shipping skills still keep this procedure possible.

As I move to tear the tape one-handed, my watch beeps. I drop the whole mess with a huff, push the watch's "light" button which stops the beeping, and resume the surgically precise operation.

I got a new watch. It's the first brand and style change I've made in over ten years. My go-to wristwatch maker changed the design to include a feature allowing for two different time and alarm settings. This changed the familiar user interface, and after a year of suffering, the battery finally died. Now I am the proud owner of a bright red Casio.

Quaint and informative.

I couldn't be happier. This is the simple digital watch that I was looking for.

Painfully insulting!!!

DIY Farmhouse Table - Day 2

I worked all day on the farmhouse table with Shelly. This is day two. Shelly stayed over last night so we could get an earlier start than yesterday.

Shelly was focused on precision quite a bit, and I keep telling her that when it's done she will see that these little inconsistencies do add up... to a freaking awesome looking table! I've learned the value of a sixteenth and a quarter when cutting wood, and I'm learning what to worry about and when to shrug. The instructions get a little confusing, but we didn't have much difficulty forging ahead with sensible decisions.

We're making two. One for Shelly's house, and one to sell. We have both table tops finished, but not finished - we still have lots of sanding and staining for next time. We have one base completed, but likewise, it needs sanding and stain.

Now I have a full farmhouse table in my van, along with the parts and materials for another farmhouse table, and all of the other stuff that was already in there to begin with. My van is basically acting as a storage shed on wheels.

Lotta brand new wood. Glad I wasn't the one paying for once.

Tabletop #1. Hard to see, but it's held together with 10,000 pocket screws. And glue.

You do a lot of this before cleaning out a channel with a chisel.

We switched off on that.

Working toward a smooth(er) channel with a chisel.

Something like this?

Completed base #1. In this photo, I just pinched my finger with a hammer.

After working all day, we were proud of what we had to show for it - but when you look at what you've just made, it seems like it should not have taken so long. The lesson? Shit takes longer than you think. Embrace that, take your time, and you'll have more fun.

DIY Farmhouse Table - Day 1

I need money for a battery bank and money for house-finishing supplies. I overdrew my bank account. I took out almost all my money to buy bicycle parts at the last swap meet, and I didn't accurately gauge how much money I would need in my account to tie me over until fresh eBay money starts coming in.

Oops.

They money has started to come in, but now I'm playing ketchup. In the meantime, I can't make meaningful improvement to the house. I just spent two whole days listing eBay stuff, so now I'm taking a break to do a different project.

Shelly emailed me a link to some DIY Farmhouse Table plans that she wants to try. I'm the one with the most access to basic tools. We scheduled a day to work on the plans, and that day is today.

We started out by gathering supplies and materials. We decided to make two tables - one for Shelly to keep, and one to sell. Ideally, the second table will sell for enough to significantly offset the cost of the first. That's Shelly's department. I'm in charge of tape measures and saw guidance.

We mostly finished two table tops. It seems like a person should have more to show for those hours of work, but a large percentage of the time is taken by the learning curve. Both of us are now much more familiar with the concept of pocket holes - and I get to keep the Kreg jig in exchange for helping out with tools and assistance. Deal!

I consider this an excellent skill-building exercise. This is a fun way to make myself learn how to build something that I want to know how to build anyway.

As the cashflow begins to trickle...

I listed a ton more on eBay. I've lost track of all the bicycle parts I have to sell. When I need money, I just go to the boxes and start picking out components that I know will sell. Last night, I sold a derailleur for $130, which I paid $20 something for.

The floodgates are creaking open again - for the inane queries of could-be buyers, and the deluge of items in my shipping queue. My level of busy just ratcheted up a notch, but there is great satisfaction to be gleaned from a good sale.

This is what a $130 derailleur looks like. No motors or sandwich maker.

Drywall: it begins.

I put up the first piece of drywall on my furring strips, and it looks like it's going to work out alright. It occurred to me how much more comfortable I would be using free 1" reclaimed boards. First of all, you can take boards on and off without ruining them - which might prove useful for future re-wiring and other "behind the scenes" work. Second, it wouldn't be so critical to know exactly where the studs are. The board itself could be used as a strong enough anchor for almost anything I can think of.

BUT. I already bought six sheets of 5/8" drywall, so that's what I'm using. It does make me wish that I went and got loads of those old free 1"x6"x10" fence boards that were on Craigslist a couple months ago. As an added bonus, I wouldn't need the furring strips with those either. And I'd save some money, possibly making a feed-through jobsite planer a reasonable purchase.

Running the free boards through the planer a couple times would make them look even and awesome. It's a missed opportunity. The major drawback was thinking of a place to keep the boards in the interim - I'm already storing stuff all over, and it's hard to think about where to make yet another mess in my parents' house or property. So the boards would be great, but I need to wrap the project up and start the process of de-cluttering my folks' place from top to bottom.

First piece of drywall. First I've ever hung. I had to cut it 'cause it's too heavy to lift up there alone.

I had to add these furring strips, because I forgot to include "nailers" in the framing. I needed to add something to anchor the drywall to. Not too excited about adding the extra step...

My buddy Jonas bought land in Fessenden, ND!

I've never been so vicariously excited about a friend's purchase. After blogging about it here: http://721pm.blogspot.com/2013/07/land-for-sale-small-town-usa-business.html and here: http://721pm.blogspot.com/2013/07/just-missed-it.html, my friend Jonas found the same exact lot up for sale once again. (I guess someone didn't pay.) He got it for half of the original price!

Here:
http://www.ebay.com/itm/321178538926

So, what's going to happen with this piece of land? Something? Nothing? I don't know. But I'm sure glad that a braver man decided to jump in and kick the ball in the right direction. 

Condiment Packets and Relationship Photos

This is a good example of the emails that I typically sort through with my first coffee:

I also found the photo below from last January. Strange how that feels like so long ago. I was living in Philly in the cheapest and most secluded room I've ever rented. I'd been sober for about two and a half months at the time. If it wasn't for the girl in the picture, I never would have made it a month. Kristin started living with me long before most would consider it wise. She had a crappy expensive apartment, and I told her repeatedly that she should just move into my crappy inexpensive room which was closer to her work... and me. I was still getting used to my new front teeth. She is waiting to see if her investment will pay off...

... It won't. Not in the ways that she could imagine at the time.

A Used PDA & Bluetooth Barcode Scanner: Scouting for Books-of-Value

Book Scanning / Scouting [2013]: Finding books of value to be resold for a profit, usually on Amazon.com. The equipment includes a smartphone or PDA in combination with a small bar-code scanner, or the onboard phone camera. A database of Amazon.com selling prices and other pertinent data can be stored on an SD card to assess approximate item value in 1/10th of a second. Smartphones can be used in stock form for a slow setup that checks real-time prices using an app. One's chosen equipment is taken to book sales, flea markets, thrift stores, and wherever used books are sold. 

Item prices can be checked for Amazon's other 23 categories if using a smartphone, but for lightning fast book scouting, an outdated PDA is still the tool of the trade. Current smartphone apps are relatively slow, and conducting a price search takes several seconds. Working from a database stored locally on the device is instant. When scanning over 100 books, this makes an enormous difference.

I bought a Dell Axim x51 and a Socket Mobile 7 bluetooth scanner. I subscribed to software that allows me to download new database information to a 2gig SD card. I took it out for a test drive.

August 3, 2013:

I woke up early to go to yard sales and scan books. A light rain fell on items of questionable value at the only yard sale I attended. From there, I went straight to the Lion's Club book barn for some scanning.

Having a recent database of all Amazon book prices is like having invisibility power. When you're a kid and you're having the conversation about superpowers, somebody will always choose invisibility because it allows them to steal money from the bank. At first, that's what it felt like I was doing, but I got over that feeling pretty quickly. It's actual work and it takes some doing.

At first, I was a bit squeamish about being seen doing this. I wasn't breaking any rules, but from what I've read, some mortals have an aversion to it. I'm doing something that they can't and it doesn't seem fair. I've read about others' experiences scanning books [slate.com], and they've had people comment negatively on their activities.

I see meaningful benefit for everyone involved. Buying inexpensive items from small local markets and making these items available in larger markets is simply commerce as we've always known it. What's new is that I can be part of this system without a huge capital expenditure or an immediate boss. Additionally, I'm directly recycling the books that people still want to read - impossible without access to a database of what those books are.

Competition when pricing for Amazon makes more information available to more people. The books will be read many more times on average, as they are filtered through a system where demand adds value and market access is universal. This is less wasteful. This is respectful to the Earth, whereas printing a book to sit unread is an affront to the planet. Keeping books expensive and out-of-reach means that only the wealthy have access to information. Like it or not, Amazon is creating an incredibly level playing field. This is an example of how technology can help humans conserve resources. Book scouting creates self-employment opportunities, and it greatly increases the number of books sold at fundraising events like library book sales. It's a win for everybody, but people aren't accustomed to the new paradigm yet.

I got comfortable with the equipment fast. I scanned hundreds of books. I filled a bag with ones that people want. Then I went to the Re-Store in Kennett and scanned some more books. The next step is to prepare the books to be shipped to an Amazon warehouse where they will be added to Amazon's inventory to be shipped by them. I get a weekly deposit in my bank account as my books are sold.

Today, I got a handful of books that should sell for $20 or more. I got twenty or so that will sell between $8 to $20. I paid fifty cents to a dollar each - no more.

So far, this is looking like easy money. There is a capital expenditure for equipment, yes [$225 for used PDA & scanner; $30/mo database.] If I make considerably more than I spend, I'll be happy. That looks like it will be the case.

I can understand why someone wouldn't want to scan a whole bunch of books. It's robotic and monotonous. For me, that works. Though book scouting depends on recent technology, I see it as a return to basic human ways. I'm picking blueberries on a camel.

Trikes and Books: Scouting and Writing.

Fucked around for another day. This is getting regular. When it comes to getting the house finished, sometimes I am astonished with how much I don't get done.

I put pedals back on the trike. Kristin and I took a trike n' bike to uptown Kennett where I dropped off a basket brimming with packages at the post office. We got coffee and took a scenic ride home through the back paths of Anson B. Nixon park. All of that was great. For the morning, at least, I was living the Trike Life.

That's me. Doing it right circa 2011.

I did get my book scanning equipment in the mail. I managed to figure out how to set everything up. At the last minute, I tried to get to a book sale to test out the scouting, but I arrived thirty minutes too late.

I also started work on writing a book. Time will tell whether that leads to anything more than scattered paragraphs.

Street Crud: A Long-Awaited Trike Mod.

I built some book-specific shelving.

I was trying to explain to Kristin why one-hundred Clive Cussler books were blocking access to our closet. I was fumbling my way through an explanation of why I thought this was an acceptable situation, but she beat me to it.

"Oh! You're making an art installation!"

Yes! (Does that make it okay, then??)

Today I used three saws and several old shelves to make this new set of shelves. My shelving units always end up crooked as hell. I sort of like it.

This shelving unit was designed for this exact purpose:

There's going to be much more of this.

Summer Saturday: Book Sales, Yard Sales, Goodwill Sales.

I got up at 7:30am after a few hours of sleep. I took a Modafinil and wrote down today's addresses on a yellow post-it note. When I reached a Wawa for my too-tall-coffee, my eyeballs were still hot and groggy. It's a summer Saturday, and that means yard sales and the like.

In my mind, the exciting part of today's plan was the book sale where I would scour cardboard boxes for more Clive Cussler titles. Tied into that was a half-sane mission to attend yard sales for more eBay flipping. The only reason the plan isn't full-sane is because I haven't been dedicating enough time to eBay selling. When I have one big project, then I can usually manage to work on it. If I have two or more projects, my split focus leaves me feeling overwhelmed. eBay stuff is piling up and I'm starting to feel overwhelmed. It's taking up too much space, but I must finish building the house, I tell myself. The number of hours it will take to sell everything I have accumulated is terrifying. But I still have to go out on Saturday morning to search for more treasure. What I really need to do is catch up. On everything.

I started the day buying a smartphone for $5. She insisted that I be the first to name a price. When I named one, she took it. I have to decide whether to use it or sell it. I'm currently using a crazy old flip phone with T9 texting, if you can remember back that far. The phone I just bought is worth about $35 on eBay. What I really would prefer is an iPhone, and I think I'll just wait a little longer. I got several other bargains, and if I wasn't under a tidal wave of product I would be feeling pretty good about myself.

Next up was the book sale. I'm on a book sale notification list, and today's was a pretty big one. I ended up with a modest haul of Cussler - maybe a dozen or so titles. I picked up a few other books that might do well online. Books are something I need to research the value of. I have no way of predicting the value of any book. If I could make a sure profit of $4 on any given book, I would buy it. Listing a book is quick and easy, and media mail is cheap. Book sales like the one I attended today have tens of thousands of books for $.25 - $2.00. Given the right motivation and purchasing algorithm, it's not hard to see that there is a lot of money to be made. For example: if you see a Betty Crocker cookbook, you can be sure to make more than $4 profit. Buy them all and some will do great, and you'll never lose money. With a current financial goal of $500 per week, books are looking like another avenue to cobble together an income.

Next was a stop at Goodwill, which was swamped. Clothing was half price, and everyone in Delaware knew it. I ended up with a couple bags of promising items, but no treasure. I put together a respectable stack of items that will definitely sell for a small profit per item. Added up, it's a good day's work - but there was no hidden prize to get my blood pumping faster. When the treasure does show up, I'll see it. My eyes are wide open.

Totals / estimated profit:

Verizon LG Vortex Phone - $30
Minolta Camera Lens - $25
Adidas Soccer Socks - $40  (10 pairs $4 profit each.)
Beer Trays - $20 (4 trays $5 profit each)

I got more that this, but these items are the surest bets. When I claim to have a goal of $2000 cash income per month, people seem incredulous. These numbers show that I'm not completely full of shit. Today was a lazy cake walk. Cake walks are easy, but you still need to walk to get the cake. (My understanding of cake walks might be mistaken.)

Antique Trash That I Took.

You want to know something? I was in Ardmore with Kristin last week. We just missed the hours of a thrift shop that I wanted to check out. Behind the thrift shop were some dumpsters heaped with antique furniture. By "antique" I mean "old," and the defining characteristic in my mind is when solid wood is used instead of pencil shavings held together with glue. The furniture was broken and incomplete, but I saw a dresser with a couple drawers that looked interesting. I don't know if inanimate objects can have panache, but these drawers made me wonder.

So. I pulled out a drawer, and I was inspecting it when some guy showed up on the scene and told me I couldn't have it.

"But it's in the trash," I pointed out.

This guy was full of information. It's their trash and that's their rule and it's their policy that I can't have it. He used my favorite tone. He explained this as though his hands were tied. He made it seem as though there was no physical way to circumvent this rule which he had created. It was as if this rule had become self-aware and there could be no telling what fury my defiance might bring down upon us.  It was one thick piece of baloney. I was actually on the fence about taking the drawers anyway - I was only in the inspection phase when he interrupted - but the guy's pep talk was incredibly motivational.

"Right... that's fucking ridiculous, man." I went back to the car and pulled into a parking spot about ten feet away. The guy made it look like he might play the waiting game, but about two minutes later he seemed to remember some business to attend to. He got in his car and exited the parking lot. I walked over, got the drawers, and then followed suit.

If I ever tell someone they can't have something that I've already thrown away, please put a bullet in me. Make it two in the stomach, and shake your head slowly as I fade.

Today I got to work on those drawers. I'm using them turned up on their ends as wall-mounted bookshelves. I found a scrap board and ripped it on the table saw a couple times to make the shelves. I painted the little shelves with some weird old varnish so they match the old drawers better. The modification and repairs took about an hour so far. I attached a short section of a board on the back of the shelves / bottom of the drawer, and I will mount it on the wall by screwing through all of that and into a stud. Boss Hog.

The drawers still have the crazy-old locks and an interesting patina to boot. I can't figure out why that guy wanted them in a landfill so bad.

Just missed it!

I missed my opportunity to own a destination vacation location that could have made me millions.

Fessenden, ND land:
http://www.ebay.com/itm/321162287739

Town website:
http://fessendennd.com

Convincing text from the auction:

North Dakota:
In addition, the area of North Dakota is currently enjoying a truly impressive economic boom. Dubbed “The Economic Miracle” by American and Global Economists, North Dakota is currently America’s most successful state by every economic measure. While the national economy has struggled in recent years, North Dakota has quietly flourished, setting records in domestic energy production, job creation and state budget surplus growth. For the past decade, North Dakota has led the US in growth of both personal income and real state GDP. With no shortage of natural resources and a current surge in renewable energy development, the economic future looks bright for North Dakota, making it perhaps the single best location for land investment in the country.

North Dakota is becoming one of the more sensible choices in today’s busy, polluted environment.  The quality of life experienced by people in North Dakota is one of natural, clean and friendly living. North Dakota has an excellent education system and infrastructure. Property taxes are extremely low as well. People care about one another and no one is ever to busy to stop and lend a helping hand.  Recreational opportunities are endless.

There is snowmobiling, cross county skiing, and ice fishing in the winter and hunting, bird watching, fishing, horse back riding, rafting, canoeing and hiking in the summer and fall.  North Dakota has some of the best hunting and fishing in the lower forty-eight.  North Dakota is especially known for its plethora of bird species.

 Right... sounds perfect...

Land for Sale: Small Town USA. (A business proposal.)

Every so often, I will look at every piece of land in America. Between eBay auctions for the full-price on janky land and market research on Trulia.com, I could spend many hours. And I do. I'm also getting quick at finding relevant information about local building codes and permits.

I found a few interesting lots. I focused my attention on small building lots for $10k or less with an emphasis on "no reserve" auctions going for less than $1000 bucks. Of everything I looked at, here are the best three.

My favorite listing was for an acre of land in Klamath Falls Oregon for $10,000. An empty lot. Klamath Falls is in southern Oregon in the Cascade Mountains. I love the climate and topography. Love it. The land in question is 0.7 miles from an artsy coffee shop, and a mile from a grocery store. The land is placed perfectly between the boonies and a cute town. The Yelp reviews for every business in Klamath Falls are glowing with accolades about how friendly and wonderful everyone there is. I guess living in paradise makes people friendly.

A listing of interest was .12 acres on Pine Island beside Florida in the gulf. It's a coral island of considerable size, above Sanibel and close to Ft. Meyers, etc. The major drawback here is that it's in Florida. A careful study of the building code revealed no major obstacles preventing a 200 sq. ft or so house from going up. Relevant state and local building code does not restrict dwelling size. They charge plenty for permits, and you have to build to hurricane standards (lots of Simpson Strong-Tie products), but it would be doable. The plan here would be to make a small winter bug-out cabin disguised as a cute little home - bright white exterior clad in T-1-11; rustic cabin on the inside. Rent it out on AirBnB to pay the ongoing expenses and maybe make a little money. (Tourism isn't crazy here, but it is near by. This land is outside the tourism & big city zones, making it appear quaint and interesting. For under $2000, this lot would be a great place to start living the trike life.)

The third lot is probably the most interesting. It is a one-third-acre lot in Fessenden, ND. I know what you're thinking and you're right: awesome. I spent some time in a small town like this during the sugar beet harvest in 2008. Fessenden has a population of 492. There is a grocery store, a bar, and a smattering of small businesses. There is a thrift shop. The lot in question is an empty corner lot across a street from the courthouse. The land is lush and grassy in the photos and surrounded by trees. A Google maps inspection reveals that it is also across the street from the grain towers and the train tracks. All mid-western towns need these. During the harvest season, a long line of trucks will queue up at the grain towers and it will be a slow parade of diesel boom-battys for weeks. Old haggard farm trucks will sputter and money will trickle into town. You could watch it happen from the porch of a 150 square foot house. I wouldn't want to live there full time, but I could survive a nice slow week here and there. (This is where I would go to write my novel.)

The first lot is my favorite for living, the third is my favorite for a new project.

I would like a tiny house in Fessenden or similar to visit infrequently and rent out on AirBnB. If nobody wanted to rent it, that would be fine. But I would relish the chance to try my hand at marketing it. I think there are people who would be interested in scoping out the "real" America. Something like this:

"Have you ever been curious about daily life in a small mid-western town? Bring your books, folks, because you are visiting the vast grain fields of the "real" America. All amenities are available in town. Fessenden has a grocery store and you can belly up to the bar at Motorheads. This quaint little house is right on center field, equipped with everything you need. You can sit on the porch and watch the trains go by, or you can borrow the adult tricycle to make a grocery run. A small two-burner propane stove rounds out the kitchen area and there is a 32" TV for watching DVDs rented from the gas station in town.

With a population just shy of 500, and open fields in every direction, Fessenden is the perfect example of a small mid-western town in modern times. Come take a look! You can stay as long as you want and not a minute longer."

... something like that. I would have an adult tricycle available to renters arriving by bus or train. I don't know a good price, but I think something like $40 per night; $200/wk. The whole idea is mostly just a gag I came up with, but I do believe there is a small untapped market. With city lots going for <$1000, a destination-vacation type business could rent properties in various remote locations. People who are interested in living in remote locations - or just the casually curious - could get their feet wet without diving in head first. Other areas of interest would be Costilla County, Colorado; the Lost Coast of California; Iola, Kansas... just to name a few. A working business name could be "Town Watch: destination vacations in remote locations."

Thoughts or ideas? Who's in?

Brains and Books: More Correspondence About Cussler

My brain is made out of super-sticky butyl-backed tape. I used some of this tape today, so that's how I know. I've witnessed the properties first-hand; the chemical compounds are the same. Once you pull off the backing paper [from the tape], you have to be very careful what it touches. If it sticks to something you don't want it stuck to, you will have a hell of a time removing it. When you get it where you want it, it is effective indeed.

Once I get an idea in my head - for better or worse - it is stuck. Often the idea is a dead end or a distraction and I know it. This makes no difference. It is already too late. The tenacity of the bond will cause focus bordering on obsession and I might as well forget about sleep. This has worked to my benefit on many occasions. I've saved money, quit jobs, learned about bicycles, traveled by bicycle, and purchased a box truck on a credit card. In my youth I hunted and gathered a low-level-famous collection of Mad Magazines that would be impressive for the efforts of an adult, let alone a 6th-grader. Later in life, I created condimentpacket.com, and still my brain holds a giant catalog of information about portion control sachets (as the industry likes to call them.) None of this might have happened without a brain as sticky as butyl-backed tape.

The issue is one of control. I have little or no control over what my brain sticks to. If I could aim my focus at learning a language or studying the law, I might find a better return on investment than, say, spending hours per day tracking down tartar sauce packets in the Czech Republic and convincing somebody to send them to me.

If nothing else, I am happy to accomplish something rather than nothing. I am happy with who I am, even if I am sometimes frustrated that I am unable to deploy my go-go-gadget brain-tape with any semblance of aim. I'm already on this ride, so I might as well enjoy it. It is on this note that I bring you the latest installment from my growing files of Cussler-correspondence. I bring you now to my latest text-based bid to amuse myself.

Contacting the Cusslermen.

Do you know anywhere I can get a pizza? These stoned words were spoken into a phone succeeded by much laughter in 2002. Now I don't need a pizza. I need a checklist.

I have four copies of "Cyclops," each with a different cover. I can say the same about "Sahara," and I've seen many other cover variations for that as well. The German eBay site reveals that all Cussler books have been translated, and many have gone through a series of editions and printings there as well.

To me, this is a matter of interest, but not one of concern. I don't wish to pay more than $.25 - $1 on average for any of these books, and I am most satisfied at the bottom of this range. I am planning to build a guest house and I am considering Clive Cussler novels stacked and packed between the studs for insulation. Well-read copies are abundant enough to get a good R-Value-to-cost ratio (also known as a good R-value-value.) The term "fire hazard" is in common parlance exactly because of designs like this one. I will be sure to remind guests not to fall asleep with lit cigarettes.

I contacted Hyatt of the Cusslermen today for guidance on matters surreal and imagined:

Deeper involvement with collecting Clive.

I've paid the dues to be in the inner circle. Once in, I will have a front row seat to a special kind of madness. There is an artistic endgame here, but it will require your time and patience before the big reveal. Hold your breath while clasping the pages of a Clive Cussler book for comfort.

Filling in the gaps.

Glorious morning. I woke up late and drifted toward a cooling cup of coffee poured from an hours-old carafe. So begins a typical morning in Harneland circa '13. I opened my laptop to catch up on business, but please instead picture me holding an unfolded newspaper with my glasses perched low on my nose. Thank you.

I boxed up seventeen items recently sold on eBay. I added those to the twenty-five other outgoing packages, and Kristin helped me haul the entire load up to the post office. (I neglected to arrange 'carrier pickup' before midnight yesterday, and thus must portage packages personally if they are to ship today.)

With the remainder of a morning to myself, I decided to go on walkabout. First, I visited the Kennett Area Senior Center Book Store. I was greeted warmly, and soon began to browse. The store gets a constant flow of donations in heavy boxes. The employees and volunteers are elderly. Witnessing this, I felt compelled to volunteer my services as a strong and able-bodied young man when a particularly challenging donation arrived by station wagon across the street. You might think that this was a nice gesture, but I assure you anybody would have done the same or they are evil. In appreciation, I was offered a discount of 50%.

I declined the discount twice for good measure, but was carefully not adamant enough to be taken seriously. I found four Clive Cussler books to fill gaps in my collection, and paid half of a fairly reasonable asking price. My total was $5.83 for two paperbacks, a hardcover, and a large-print hardcover edition. "Oh, I know... I like the large print editions."

I loafed around throughout most of the remaining daylight, springing into action only near dusk. I filled the gaps in the insulation in the tiny house loft ceiling with spray-foam expanding stuff, and considered the day a good-enough success.

Clive Cussler Collection: It Begins

Have you heard of Clive Cussler? I sure have. Clive Cussler is a paragon of the prolific novelist. With all of the various titles and editions, hardcover and paperbacks (trade and mass-market) available, there are a virtually endless number of variations. This is excellent fodder for the prospective collector. I am a perpetually prospective collector. Many sub-collection criteria can be chosen, and visually appealing display options abound. Perhaps most important, the books are generally affordable and there are many opportunities to hunt for a new find.

I've been considering a Clive Cussler collection for years, but other projects have taken precedence. I had ten or so mass-market paperbacks at one point, and the total dwindled to four as various copies went who-knows-where. A month ago, I attended a tag sale at the Kennett Area Senior Center and observed many Cussler books for sale. They were $0.50 for paperback, $1 for hardcover. I bought none. The decision haunted me.

I was still sore from this failure to act when I saw a sign for a Lion's Club book sale in Avondale, PA. I attended the sale ready to buy. A sign posted in the wide entrance of the large white barn read "Books. $5 per bag." Bags provided were of the plastic Acme Markets type. You can get a lotta books in that bag.

I took my first bag and proceeded to dip my dragnet into the sea of disorganized paper. After filling my second bag to a barely-fair overflowing, I was informed that the sign was incorrect. The $5 sale was last week, and this week was $0.50 per book. Perhaps to avoid flummoxing me, the senior-in-mesh-hat in charge told me they would honor the mistakenly-posted sign. I filled two more bags. I developed a method of bag-filling which involved both physics and material science. The size of books and order of inclusion were taken into account. When complete, each bag was a thin film surrounding a cube of tightly-packed Cussler. I could fit a thumb and the tip of a forefinger between the two looped handles while supporting the load from below. That is how I define a full bag.

The musty barn smelled of yellowing paper and the wide beams creaked under the weight of many tomes. I systematically scanned each row for Clive Cussler, passing over countless Kings, Crichtons and Pattersons. Dick Francis, John Grisham and Robert Ludlum were not on the menu. I passed over these as I assembled stacks of Cussler. I worked for an hour in the quiet barn as four senior Lions manned the bags and the cash box up front.

I completed my final bag of paperbacks and asked "how much are the hardcovers?" while gesturing to the side-room of alphabetized early editions. The response: "fill a bag." And so I did. I ended with six bags. A ten and a twenty changed hands, and I took four trips to my van.
Later inspection revealed that I had obtained all but three titles in the "Dirk Pitt Adventures" series. I had nearly complete series of the Numa and Oregon Files. I found several first editions and picked up many doubles (some as many as five copies.) In total, I hauled away 96 Clive Cussler books. The four at home made an even one-hundred.

Anybody seeking Cussler at this barn sale will leave severely disappointed.

More about Clive Cussler:
Clive Cussler has written or co-authored 60 books. He started in the 1970's and he has more books waiting to be published even today. Visiting a garage sale or thrift store will dredge up cache after cache of his dusty paperbacks. Clive Cussler focuses primarily on maritime adventure books written in a series. His original series of novels features "Dirk Pitt." Pitt does not have superhuman powers, but somehow remains unscathed from involvement in some pretty nasty situations. They aren't supposed to be believable. You're supposed to read them on the beach.

In addition to the Dirk Pitt adventures, Clive Cussler has created the Numa Files and the Oregon Files. These are the Rhoda and Phyllis to Dirk Pitt's Mary Tyler Moore Show. These series feature cameo appearances from the Dirk Pitt novels and focus on the adventures of an overlapping cast of characters.

Still further - (in his free time?) - Cussler has been working on two additional series: Issac Bell is a fictional hero of the early 20th century, and the Fargo Adventures tell the story of a fictional treasure-hunting couple.

Clive Cussler has also penned two children's books and four works of non-fiction.

Along with names like Stephen King, Michael Crichton, and James Patterson, you will find a staggering number of Clive Cussler novels in any given used book store or book rummage sale. My aim is to collect them all. Failing this, I will at least have a collection of note. (I have a policy of setting my bar of achievement ambiguously to ensure success throughout all of my projects.)

$600 buys a working Ford Festiva

I've been looking around at cars for awhile now. I've been researching (ie: not sleeping) and waiting for something perfect. I want it all. The car must be fuel efficient: 35mpg highway or better. It must be easy to work on: I want to perform my own repairs and maintenance. When something goes awry, I want to know why and I want to know how to fix it. Most important, the car needs to be inexpensive. Selling stuff on eBay has not yet made me my first million dollars.

Update: I bought a car. I was looking through Craigslist ads late one night when a Ford Festiva showed up for $500. "Runs Great!" the ad claimed. Manual trans with 81,000 miles on the engine. Consider my attention grabbed. Even if it didn't run "great" as the ad stated, it at least did run. If it wasn't a rust bucket, it would be a good opportunity to buy a repair manual and try to learn something.

I emailed the owner an hour after the ad was posted. An hour after that, I hit refresh and the price was now $850. Additionally, the owner had placed a series of asterisks before and after the title (which is what you do when your car is a real gem.) I emailed again to say I might still be interested at a higher price pending an inspection and provided the price didn't get crazy.

I didn't want to seem overly interested and I didn't want to let a good deal slip through my fingers. A delicate balance was in play. My well-timed and calculated persistence resulted in a test ride and an opportunity to make an official offer for $600. The person selling the car was not a very good negotiator, and managed to reveal all details of other offers, which allowed me to offer the exact price I knew he would take. After changing the advertised price to $850, I naturally assumed that he had an offer in that range. I was pleased that he conversationally informed me otherwise.

The car is now mine, and the associated Haynes Manual is also in my possession. It is running, indeed, but a bit loud and it surely needs a ton of catchup maintenance. In spite of it stalling a dozen times on the way home, and needing to be towed by Triple-A on the maiden voyage, I think I still got a great deal. The repair was cheap (loose connection at the MAF) and the reviews are stellar. There are gatherings of Festiva enthusiasts and there is a wealth of information available on the web. Let the fun and maintenance begin.

Hey. If it's good enough for Ghost Dancer, it's good enough for me.

White and Black Church Service circa: My Youth.

[copied/pasted from personal correspondence. This is my account of a church service that occurred in my youth, when a black church was invited to join a white church (which my family attended) to praise the lord with music. I was in a kid's choir at the time. This story was not originally intended for public consumption, but here it is anyway. Also... don't be offended by anything I say, pls.]

No, no... what actually went down is this:

My family went to the Presbyterian Church up on Broad Street. It was a fairly musical church - multiple choirs and groups - I played handbells, too, just to give you an idea of the background and budget of this setup. We had a handbell-only group of 12 or more folks playing beautiful brass bells in a very organized and fancy fashion.

Not many black people at our church. We had one - Leon Spencer - who is a fantastic black guy if you can only boast one. Otherwise, it was an overwhelmingly white congregation where most stereotypes about white-folks would apply beautifully.

Christ Temple was a black church. It was far from the starched-collar formal setup like we had. They worked up to a loud volume when they sang about the lord. Their fever-pitch was reached regularly and it always included body-movement. The bond between the churches, I think, was imagined or hypothetical. Real or not, an invitation was extended to Christ Temple to join Kennett Presbyterian in a service to praise God together through music. Genius. So the white folks did some music, and then the black folks did some music. A few hymns were sung together, but the rest of it played out like a friendlier version of a white people vs. black people basketball game in a movie. But it wasn't really a competition. I'm sure that most people there - white and black - felt really great about themselves for solving racism.

I give full credit to whoever organized the service. I think it's great when groups of humans with different backgrounds are made to interact. From an anthropological standpoint, I think it's interesting and always worth the effort. I don't know if it changed opinions about race or class on any measurable level, but even going through the motions is a positive sign, I think.

I wish I could see video confirmation of my memories of this event.

The whites at my church were all older and so-very-formal. We were a caricature of white people. Most members of Kennett Presbyterian were a breed of unfortunate accidental Republicans, and while they're not bad people, I don't think they know enough about how other people live for me to feel comfortable letting them vote without at least getting the squinky-sideways-eye from me. They wouldn't understand why the recent attempts at new voter ID laws are flatout racist, for example. They're not evil. They're just so naive that you daydream about smothering them with a pillow so they can't use their final breath to condescend to you. That was way too harsh. "Their actions induce routine eye-rolling."

Christ Temple is all working class black people who probably use church much more as a social gathering place than the whites who kind of get polished up and make an appearance on Sunday. They had a charisma and camaraderie that you couldn't help feeling a bit jealous of. And when it came to music, they were the JESUS in ALL CAPS kind of folks. The black women got in the aisles and clapped and shouted. They danced and their eyes closed tight as they praised the name of the Lord. To all the whites, I think this was quite a novelty and probably made some feel insecure with their own levels of praise.

Then it was our turn. The Nerdy-White-Kids-of-Various-Sizes Choir walked hesitantly to the front. "Tough act to follow" is the phrase that comes to mind. We were already awkward and quiet as it was - that was our baseline for any performance. In this setting, any level of stage fright or anxiety was amplified by the absurdity of what was about to happen. In semi-unison and with muted tones, we sang a painfully slow and purposeful rendition of the song about Noah's "Ark-y ark-y."

The next song of Christ Temple's choosing was not performed by some certain set inside the congregation. It was men and women and children accompanied by various folks on various instruments. They had horns going, man. They played loud and they had soul. There was a minutes-long crescendo building to another call-and-response about the mighty all-caps JESUS. They had a kid who was killing it on a cheap drumset.

It was a great service to be a part of, but I only felt relief when it was time to go home.

I don't know what to make of any church anymore. For awhile there, I was still used to being in a church and it seemed like a neutral atmosphere. Now it seems creepy - Catholic, Baptist, Presbyterian, whatever. I feel the real separation that has grown between me and this style of religion. I won't give up on god as a concept, but now I am fully aware that by simply claiming to know one single thing about a god, churches have ruined their credibility with me. Why is it so fucking hard to claim you DON'T KNOW something that NOBODY possibly COULD know? Whatever the reason, I think this is responsible for a lot of pain and confusion. I start to feel frustrated and angry when I dwell on it, so I try not to. Here is a case where focusing on the aspects of absurdity can offer some relief.

I can paint this picture another way. Do you know the Stouffer's commercial with the line "nothing comes closer to home?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDhFXKP_Cu8

I get that little melody ingrained in my head all the time, but I change the words to "nothing feels further from home." That's how I feel about church. That melody with my lyrical amendment perfectly sums up the exact nature of the disconnect between me and churches that are full of people who can only see the world through the goggles of their own socio-economic class. Goggles that they are free to shed at any time, but won't. That's how I feel about seeing semi-blind humans together in a room being controlled by leaders who often mean well, but who all-to-often are abysmal representatives of the human race.

"church-GO-ERS.... nothing feels further from hooooome..."

5/8/13

5/8 - Junk silver mining. I didn't know that pre-1964 quarters are worth $4.32 for the melt-value of the silver. They're 90% silver. Kristin and I went though all of my stored change jars, and did not find one single pre-1964 quarter. None. There were a ton of 1965 quarters though. So it's not simple. I did, however, find a pre-1964 dime, which is worth about $1.72 for the melt-value of the silver. Pre-1964 dimes are also 90% silver. I want to track down more of these coins. I'm not collecting anything at the moment, and this will be a fun hobby if it takes off. Now I'm on the lookout. I might stop by a bank for a few hundred dollars in rolled quarters to look through - "coin roll mining" as they call it. Not profitable, but a fun activity to fill my need to be hunting something down.

5/7/13

5/7 - Sleeping out in the van now. I'm sleeping better again. It's much better. The rain on the roof was nice.

5/6/13

5/6 - Slow day on the job site. Taking it easy. Kristin told me how stressful it is when I lose my patience and cuss and rant. I have to get better about that or risk making her more upset. It feels impossible to control frustrated outbursts. I just want both of us to be happy and for everything to be perfect. Seems like a hard goal. I'm doing alright. Getting a little stagnant on building progress, but trying not to let it bother me much. I'll get there. It'll be a house when it comes together. I just have to continue to focus on the next step and not try to build it all in a day.

5/5/13

5/5 - Matheus visits. I build a bed platform to fit a queen-sized mattress into the van. I love sleeping in the van and get the best sleep ever. Kristin has a different experience. We got some plants: veggies and herbs.

5/4/13

5/4 - Trexlertown went well, but probably not as good as last time. I made my tired way home down Rt. 100. I got the Rudge Sports from 1953 - the exact bicycle I was after! Great luck!

5/3/13

5/3 - Unloaded the van. Highly frustrating. Put some more stuff in a bag to donate to wherever. Using the "Planet Aid" containers is better than a dumpster. Fill up a bag and say "hey... you sort this out." I also finally fixed the handtruck whose wheel fell off a month ago. Camping out before t-town tonight.

5/2/13

5/2 - Got all the remaining rafters cut, up, and nailed. There's a gap between a lot of the rafters and the ridge beam. It's fine, but I wish it was perfect. I don't know how I could make it perfect. Practice, maybe.

5/1/13

5/1 - Got six of the rafters attached to the ridge board. They look like rafters. I bought all new 2x6's yesterday, which cost me $80. Since I was pretty much starting from scratch, I decided to re-model the roof. I added a steeper pitch to add 10 inches to the headroom in the loft. In carpenter-speak, it's a 15/12 roof - pretty steep. It looks swell though. My work is a little bit rough, but it seems that everything is lining up in a reasonably even fashion. I also learned a new way to model a rafter in Sketchup - and how to model a roof with an even pitch that will translate well to a carpenter's square. I spent a lot more time than I probably needed to because I wanted to actually understand how to lay out a rafter instead of just making one that would work. I want my models to have dimensions which communicate well with typical carpentry tools. That means I need to know how to design a roof with an even pitch, and I also need to know how to use a framing square to make the actual rafter. It took some time, but I'm getting there. I understand the methods and measurements, but I could use a little more practice.

4/30/13

4/30 - apoplectic about cutting rafters incorrectly. Then fell down the rabbit hole of overthinking everything. Trying to make rafters in Sketchup and then turn them into real rafters is a mind-bending operation. Distractions are plentiful and my cup of knowledge is empty. I'm making everything extra hard on myself, and I could punch my fist through a wall. I could reach behind the wall and pull myself through to another dimension where I stop caring about it so much. Obviously I won't be an expert overnight. But I can't stop myself from being in a hurry, and I'm feeling impatient about how long it takes to learn what seems like very basic geometry. Kill me.

4/29/13

4/29 - rafters. Confused? Just make some fucking rafters. Joe Fusco can help. 1/4 off isn't a big deal. Plus, I'm using RR strongtie brackets at the ridge...

4/28/13

4/28 - picked up the final window for the house in schwenksville. Stopped by some antique places on the way home. Nope - didn't cut any rafters today. Bought a nice old Craftsman vise and a Tonka dump truck, probably to sell.

4/27/13

4/27 - Yard sales in the morning, and moving the remainder of stuff out of the philly apartment afterward. The trike was looking pretty nice with weeds and grass growing up through the spokes.

4/26/13

4/26 - toenailed some ceiling joists like a sumabitch. Hints? Drill pilot holes with a 1/8th inch bit. Clamp a piece of scrap to the side of the joist opposite where you're hammering so the joist doesn't move when you start smacking the nail. Or: use a pneumatic nailer. Don't be a whiny clown. Everything went together great - it took a little longer, but it looks great. Zero splits in the ends of the joists. Shitchyeah. went to kristin's parents place. Also got the ridge board (2nd one... this one is 2x8x14) with mom, and the brackets to connect the rafters. Went to Flea market in New Castle. Got four matching tiny windows which I hope can be installed vertically.

4/25/13

4/25 - tried to connect the ceiling joists, but kept splitting the wood while trying to toenail. This led to no work getting done and me spending the next several hours researching how to toenail better, and getting sidetracked by discussion of all related matters - ie: is toenailing while assembling the framing less strong than face-nailing through the bottom? (Spoiler: it doesn't matter. None of it matters, and this is all a distraction and excuse to keep from getting anything done.

4/24/13

4/24 - Showed my Sketchup model to small-cabin.com forums. Confirmed my apprehension about the loft being weak. Three options: rafter ties, no upper walls, more complicated lower loft. I'm opting with the simplest solution that requires the least new material. I spent today taking off the upper walls and loft framing. Now it's back to looking small and simple and manageable. || Also, I went through most of my stuff from the apartment. I was running well on Modafinil, and I went through everything - made a big pile to donate, put some in the trash, and integrated the rest into space that I made from my last round of organization. I have way too much stuff. Mostly bicycle stuff for sale, and stuff that can be thrown out or donate - but I have plenty of work ahead of me.

4/23/13

4/23 - house: rethinking the entire design. lots of issues with the second floor details. I'm inclined to remove the upper walls and install a conventional loft.