I had such a lovely day touching grass (and sand) yesterday. I slowly worked through a 36-48 hours of of talking, walking, strategizing and occasionally reapplying sunscreen (I still got burned a little on my shoulders) with a friend who is preparing for big life and company changes.
These are the activities of normal life that I cherish, but my body seems hardly able to manage the strain this week. Now perhaps these activities are stressful on the mind and soul, but should they really be so physiologically taxing for me?
My Whoop is showing high strain
Now yes I am recovering from some dental work and on antibiotics but shouldn’t I be able to have a calm day that most would consider restorative? The serene peace of sitting on sandy shores should surely outweigh any areas from consequential questions of power, compute, realism and human purpose right?
I have barely been able to get out of bed today and the ten minutes of squats and planks I did to test my capacity spiked my heart rate into the stratosphere.
Which is odd as I woke up with my RHR in the 60s which is much better than usual. I only get into the 60s or 70s consistently when I am on heavy antibiotics.
The two weeks I was on Cipro recovering from surgery this summer my RHR was in the mid sixties so clearly I’ve got something going on with low grade infections.
I struggled mightily to organize my thoughts enough to write even this post. I feel I might even have it in me to go for a walk. Which is encouraging as I missed the sunset. The sunsets are obviously an event when you have a beach or far off horizon to enjoy with then.
As the “monitoring of the situation” reached whole new levels, I took some time to touch grass today. I don’t think I opened more phone more than a dozen times before writing tonight.
So many mutuals are teaching themselves automation skills by building situation monitoring boards that maybe the Department of War doesn’t need Claude. It was charmingly easy to keep up. Which is a very distorted and dystopian way of living out the hard realism of kinetic power in real time.
If America is backstopping Loyld’s of London shipping insurance, then to repeat a Keanu Reeves meme style. Yeah I’m thinking that America is back. But I’m getting to old for this shit. It’s all TV tropes now as we unmoor in the propaganda. Which is run by an honest to goodness critical theorist who trained with Jurgen Habermas.
So instead I stared out over the horizon as the wind gently brought fresh air in from across a wide open vista. I enjoyed my friend’s company as we talked about jhanna meditation and compute pricing. We saw a seal winning along the shoreline. I put on sunscreen twice as we stayed out in the sun.
How luxurious is it I had long leisurely in-person time with a friend. Not all of my business is with friends but I cherish the ones with whom I do.
We walked and talked and broke for lunch and discussed problems from the most abstract to the most precise. Having given the world so much access to all of human creation and taste, did the market provide an original version of the driftwood horse decoration or has there only ever been the mass market design? Neal Stephenson fans get it. Baudrillard too.
Fashion people and technology people worry about these questions of taste because they are questions of control and tooling. The source culture of engineering culture shared context. How abstract is too abstract? What is enough to enable the builder to use your tool?
It was good to be outside in the sun with someone and talk. That activity needs no shared context beyond humanity. We have missed it in the hubbub.
Isn’t it funny how just as the internet is losing its humans, the humans who met only thanks to the marvels of the network are finding new offline systems? The network can reprogram itself.
I have dear friends and successful investments that I have spent hardly a single moment commingled in time and place with. I imagine that age is either just beginning or just ending and I am not sure which. So today I was outside in the sun talking. I don’t know if we made any progress but maybe I’ll only know in the far future.
The tension that has gripped geopolitics since the America build up began in the Middle East in late January, came to a dramatic head today.
A kerfuffle over the department of war’s contract to use the current best in class AI deployed on hyperscaler approved sandbox clouds naturally took up a lot of the energy the night before the real story got going. Great distraction work.
Iran launched large salvos of ballistic missiles and drones targeting U.S. bases across the Gulf and against the UAE, Qatar and Bahrain as part of a wider regional response.
The airspace being closed across the region, a lot of moving pieces at play means one can only pray for those in harm’s way. And that cooler heads can convince old generals not to use their youth for death.
I don’t feel all that well myself. I am glad to be far from the region. I have inflammatory symptoms popping up after my dental work but I hope it is soothed by antibiotics and now a dose of steroids.
I am itchier than seems sensible. I don’t know why but maybe general stress likes to compound itself with irruption.
I’d like to enjoy fair weather and beautiful sunsets before things change for the worse. I’ll do my best to work for things to go better but it’s a big job and we all must work towards it as best we can.
The power went out yesterday while I was packing for the next leg of trip I’ve been on. It’s not the digital nomad age anymore obviously but it is the era of IRL reality grounding.
Being in constant contact with different markets and different cultures is a just another iteration of being in the moment but for making your life.
Being small enough that few of my interests interest the powers that be yet lets me be nimble in how I live (even with my health challenges or maybe because of them) so I’m driving up through Albania and Macedonia into Greece today.
At the moment I’m fascinated by the old Soviet capital folks ways from Tallinn to Tirana. I was in Sarajevo for New Year’s Eve.
I feel called to learn more about the people and places that found the brutalism of collectivism a worthwhile trade from the lives they had been living. I’m sure most of them didn’t realize the violence involved but survival can call for more than the civilized man would wish.
What does that mean for our future and who decides it? Will our young people feel similarly? It seems some already do despite much better conditions in America than I saw today as I drove through snowy bedraggled roads and abandoned industrial buildings.
The cold sun on snow and an abandoned factory with my hands visible in the passenger mirror.
The horrifying reality of modernism (and the war machines that came with it) must have baffled an ordinary person. What use has a farmer for state capacity and constant politicking?
Status hierarchies seem more acute now than I can imagine they were for the average person during the height of communism. Survival in the cold is a more understandable motivation than craving Instagram lives.
I stopped to gas up in a mountain town petrol stop. I asked for a bathroom. I was prepared for a mess but found it was simply a hole in the ground. As I attempted the hiking squat of a woman over the drain, I understood what “no pot to piss in” meant as I shivered in the frozen snowed in town.
Some material realities can certainly push you to consider if we can do better for people. Especially when I saw the bill. Gas is at a low in America and still fuel is apparently quite expensive in the semi-socialist European domains. 1.1 Euro per Liter for LPG. Sheesh. Who is that benefitting?
I’m packing in one of my favorite small countries in Europe to head to one of my favorite cities just a little bit further East.
Alas the weather has been very dramatic this week with strong downpours, gusty winds, and flash flooding. The city I’m in is rapidly becoming a major hub but still has issues with drainage and paving.
Just about fifteen minutes ago the power went out in the entire block as a burst of thunder and rain came down. It may be more of the city but I can’t yet tell.
Luckily for me I’d just had a Wolt delivery arrive with my meal and groceries for the trip. I’d made a point of freezing extra ice packs for the pop up cooler so my food should be fine.
Because I’ve been a tad paranoid about the weather’s impact on grid stability, I have made sure my electronics were charged and ready including my power bank.
I’ve gotten into the habit of carrying tea lights with me anywhere I go along with purchasing a lighter on the ground wherever I go. I also always have with me a powerful flashlight so I’ll be fine as night falls.
I even downloaded the latest episodes of my favorite silly reality television show Love is Blind.
The only rule I didn’t follow was making sure I’d showered and cleaned up the remainders of laundry and other things like dishes. Hopefully it won’t matter and the lights will come back on.
If not well I am posting my daily writing now in case I lose the capacity to post as obviously I have no internet but I still have cell tower service. Those tends to go down once their batteries run down and I’d hate to lose a day in my five year routine because I didn’t plan ahead.
I finished a seven hour drive through weather so moody and inconsistent I felt it’s changing by the hour.
The day began sunny and bright but as I climbed into higher elevations, I quickly encountered what felt like every state and format of water in quick succession.
Fog turned to drizzle which began to pour as rain which froze to the trees in sparkling ice till finally snow began falling.
My intention had been to reach a remote nature preserve in the mountains known for its views but also the switch backs and hairpin turns required to make it up (and down) the elevation climb.
I left as early as I could muster given the 4pm sunset that comes this close to solstice. I didn’t want my last climb up the hill to be in the dark. I barely made it by sunset.
We’ve not had any real snowfall in our corner of Southwest Montana just yet. It’s not unusual to get snow in September but it is now late November, and I can only recall a smattering of frost and a light dusting of snow. We’ve not needed to shovel the walkway, let alone plow out the drive.
The Bridgers are bare without even a hint of a snowcap. It has been 50 degrees and sunny for too many days. It just doesn’t feel natural.
Last night we set ourselves up for our idea of a wild Saturday night with sauna session after sunset. It was a balmy 180F inside our cedar sauna. Cooling off was a little trickier than usual though.
We set a sand timer for 15 minutes. When it finished we rush out with our felt hats and drop our towels to let the sweat evaporate. It is glorious to go from heat to cold shock.
Alas that doesn’t work as well when it’s in the mid fifties even in the November nighttime. Staring up at the stars, we could see the heat mist off our bodies and our breath but only just. It was twenty degrees too warm for that party trick.
Getting back in the sauna for round two was harder than I expected. The rush from heat to freeze to heat is part of the experience. Without the full range of our normal temperature change it just felt a little off. Stimulating but also a little scary. Where is our winter?
It’s a hard time for knowing things. Making a show about epistemic confusion is the subtle uncanny meta game that is playing out living in a networked world.
It’s a completely different context than the daily world most of humanity lives in. Most of us live in some version of the past and act confused about why the world we remember so clearly isn’t here anymore. It’s hard to feel the moment.
So you try to live in the real world. You feel the weather and the geomagnetic storm rocks your body and uncanny sight of the dancing auroras would make anyone believe that we are small parts of creation. I watched the aurora in awe.
The universe was dancing with geomagnetic stormsReds and greens that feel not entirely of this world.
What grasp do we have of a material real as individuals that is also existing as part of a world. Do some of us make up more of a network? It is unclear how much of a public commons we can have on the open web. It’s a reorganization of the civics of our life. The things you wonder about under eerie glow.
Many have imagined an internet primarily accessed by bots and agents and not humans. There are many different interests at play when you consider what would change The regulators look to sooth public opinion that has been inflamed by a multimillion dollar public square information campaign technology that doesn’t even exist yet.
There are many players. The existing corporate interests have investments and their relationship to open open source models can occasionally be tense. We should we want to enable an ecosystem of compatibility. Still walled gardens are built.
The glory of the first few weeks of fall in Montana, indeed most of the mountain west, is under appreciated.
We advertise the powdery snow & bright sunshine of our winters and the long temperate days of our summer for tourism, but I love the precious few middle days of transition as we approach Michaelmas season.
The harvest wraps, the fall begins in earnest with frost ever ready, and we prepare ourselves for darker days ahead.
I personally try to be outside as much as possible in this transitional period. Throwing on sneakers and a vest is much easier than snow boots and a parka.
Rambling across county pastures, over makeshift bridges across streams and across neighboring fields in the morning sets the tone for a positive day.
Someone acquired a new piebald
Once I’d returned home, the abyss of the open internet was there to stare back at me as I looked too hard upon it.
The prayers I had uttered in thanks for the glory of our mountains, the brightness of the sun, and the mercy granted to the living was pushed back by the darkness of greyzone algorithmic memetic warfare.
I am still recovering from travel so weak enough that I have little desire to self censor. The ebbs and flows of conflicting constructed realities are fighting for purchase on the American mind and it’s not pretty. God given inalienable rights are not on anyone’s mind when there are others to blame.
I hardly knew if I should pick up Heidegger, Nietzsche or (shuddering at the thought) Schmitt to make sense of apoplectic displays of poorly harnessed power being thrown about by competing and angry egregores.
What could I possibly do or say or read to make sense of anything? I suppose that’s how the abyss gets you. The Nothing only needs you to stand idly by as you are absorbed into the abyss. Michael Ende and Madeleine L’Engle may be better places to go to understand the abyss than Nietzsche. Lest we lose our sense of wonder in the horror.
As I often do on transcontinental travel days, I wrote my post for the day first thing in the morning. I wasn’t sure how the journey would go so I thought “let’s post this early” in case things get hairy. And boy did it.
It’s a weird thing to complain about air travel on 9/11, but I don’t think much of the security theater we’ve accepted over the years did much to keep my transit safe yesterday. Twenty four years later we go through the motions of keeping air travel safe from terror because what else are we going to do?
In fact, it didn’t seem as if security was particularly tight yesterday so much as particularly incompetent. It was chaotic confusion everywhere from passport checks to boarding flights.
I had a Frankfurt to Chicago polar day flight, along with a positioning flight on each side. I went through a lot of security screenings and passport checks yesterday and stood in more lines than I can count.
In Frankfurt the lines were so long that even with planned two hour airport transit time, I was among the last to board my flight.
The “special purposes” line I begged my way into as my inbound was delayed by fog was glacial in its pace. It seems the new transit grift is wheelchairs. So perfectly abled people are now pretending at disability to board early and use special security screening lines.
It left wishing I’d registered my real disability as I attempted to run the two miles of the international terminal with suitcase and backpack torquing my spine so I wouldn’t miss my flight to Chicago.
Deplaning at Chicago I couldn’t even count the full set of wheelchairs waiting.
Add in enormous confused families using the special purpose line, who spoke neither German nor English, with 3-4 bags a piece and every sort of banned item from pocket knives to 1.5l bottles of liquids and I am shocked anyone made it through security to their flights on time.
I watched a foursome of black Arabic speaking grandmothers in hijabs and wheelchairs shouting at German security guards and their extended families as I waited for my turn. Their fierce attitudes did not speed anything up that I could tell.
I saw them 9 hours later gathering somehow even more checked luggage upon arrival in O’Hare. I’m glad my Global Entry let me pass them by at passport control as I did not want to be behind them again.
Not that I got through Chicago’s security lines unscathed. The TSA pre-check lines were four times as long as the regular line. Figuring I was well packed I could handle the normal line. Naturally I got randomly selected and unpacked basically everything
As I stood in my socks waiting for the agents to stop gossiping and listen to the only working agent explain to them that “yes that the ice pack was for medications so they can move this along” I got an alert on my phone that the conservative political organizer Charlie Kirk had been shot.
I wandered in a daze to the United club where I was denied entry. This despite booking a business class ticket for the entire transit through their own hub via their Star Alliance partnership with Lufthansa, I couldn’t use the club as “the last leg of my flight didn’t qualify.”
I knew this was possible as this last leg issue happened to me on my last transit through O’Hare so I’d bought a day pass ahead of time. But they weren’t honoring those as it was too busy. I schlepped to another club in the terminal where they were still letting in day passes. There I listened to scared speculation from two blonde women about Mr Kirk’s status.
Another hour later I made my way onto my flight to Montana. I decided to just jump to the front of the line as I was in first with seat 2B. If everyone is ignoring lines then it was irrational to keep trying to politely queue.
As the plane boarded it was all talk of Mr Kirk. A news alert crossed my phone saying he had been killed.
A gentleman was playing a video of stitched together angles of footage on his phone with full audio on. You could hear the bullet hit again and again.
The cabin attendant told him to turn it off, saying sir please have some respect for the dead. A few hours later, still living, I made it home to Montana.
