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.