This is probably the penultimate report on the shop doors. I feel like that project is finally drawing to a close. It’s about damn time. “Operation Overreach” must eventually come to an end.
Stderr
All the unbuffered error messages
This is probably the penultimate report on the shop doors. I feel like that project is finally drawing to a close. It’s about damn time. “Operation Overreach” must eventually come to an end.
I don’t have the graphic arts skills, or the patience to do this, and I bet nobody’d play it anyway.
Back in the 70s, my g/f used to wear a T-shirt that bore a feminist/separatist variant of this meme:
This weekend, Saturday and Sunday, I will be up in Rome, NY, taking a class in how to pull hamons [temper-lines] out of mono-steel, taught by journeyman bladesmith Greg Cimms.
It’s amazing what you can find on Ebay.
It took a remarkable amount of time to smear three coats of paint on the doors.
I’m going to try not to get in the habit of posting “memes” although I have to confess I have a tremendous archive of weird philosophy “memes.” A few of them won’t hurt you, right?
My projects, I realized, define my life and separate me from reality. When I am working on something, I am totally focused and nothing else matters, so all the evil of the world temporarily fades from my mind. Although, that’s not entirely true. When I am thinking about an article, I often read and re-read sources, and I sometimes mutter under my breath as my subconscious formulates my viewpoint. I am careful not to have one of my creative avenues bleed over into the other and destroy it – imagine if I started trying to make art that represented how I feel about the Palestine situation; it would not be pretty. I want to make elegant-ish cooking knives, not killing tools.
I recently ran into one of the tried-and-boring christian come-backs against atheism: “if you don’t believe in god, how can you find joy in your life?” You know, that kind of yawner.
Often, my gutter-crawling through politics and the history of revolutions, government, racism, and nastiness, leave me so sad and angry that I don’t know what to do. Add on top of it my leg hurting and the clot-buster drugs, which seem to be making me a bit stupid and low-energy, and I’ve got a real motivational crisis. Oh, yeah, and looming over it all is my certainty that species extinction and the collapse of civilization is hurtling toward us at an accelerating rate. “Why bother?” doesn’t strike me as an unreasonable question; trying anything at all seems to be an act of denial.