I forget, on frequent occasion, the beauty and need of escape. The pleasure that exists in the easing of a mind, in the focus on reveling in a present, simple moment.

I forget, because it is far too easy to get distracted.

Escape, as I understand and occasionally crave it, takes practice. It can take solitude or sensory deprivation, silence or self-control, a combination of many factors. What it can't seem to take is the constant influx of the post-modern world.

My great-grandparents watched the birth of cars into society, my grandparents, flight. My parents, television, and myself? Computers and the internet, email and cellphones, social networking, and Web 2.0. If you glance back at that arc - the technological development and adoption of the past century, there is an exponential curve evident. A curve leading to the ubiquity of electronic interaction, to Twitter and Facebook, Flickr and YouTube, iPhones and Blackberrys - the younger, more energetic, frenetic siblings of cellphones and texting...

Hold any modern smartphone in your hand and augmented reality sits at your beck and call. Constant updates from friends and loose connections fill your sight, enabled GPS tracks your location, automatically Twittering any friend within a mile of you, letting them know you'd like to meet up. Text messages meander in every few minutes, picking at the ether to see who is around, to say hello, to simply get the dopamine rush offered by a response. Google Street View shows off the restaurant front where you'll meet, with it you've looked beyond what your eyes can see. The photos you upload to Flickr are tagged with the location they were taken in, a friend missing out can enter the name of the restaurant and catch all of you there, texting at the goofiness of a smile, a new haircut... News sites and blogs (from the political to celebrity) have been modeled to read more efficiently on the small screen, now moving from RSS feeds into shorter data streams, grabbing the attention of the table next to you. Bills maintain a texting personality, a small @CellCompanyHere denoting your account due, a new service, an overage. Romantic interests flit in and out of contact, flirting in 180 characters or less, thumbs plying away on a small keypad, lower lip bitten. Job possibilities and contacts, acquaintances that know more about your life through Facebook updates than family do, all these pop in.

I've read that the average Sunday edition of the New York Times carries more information in it than an average person in the Dark Ages of Europe would have encountered over the course of their entire lifetime. I know that using a newspaper as an analogy is woefully past-due, they are nearly dead as an industry and we pack more information into most mornings than the Sunday paper. I know that whether or not it is of quality, there is a massive quantity of data available to us, literally at the brush of our fingertips, often at the forefront of our minds.

It's been said that dating is dead - that texting and flash-mobs of friends have lead to brief meet-ups, six-degrees-of-separation connections providing commonality, groups providing anonymity and a break to the nervous stress of a first meeting. We don't knock on doors to say hello anymore but we don't need to. Texting is akin to it - to unexpected distractions and moments, with the same ability to ignore as the doorbell, but more frequent, our immediate response more Pavlovian.

I am living in a world where the constant influx of information drives me, feeds all of us. A world where we are all far closer to the data stream than we may care to admit. A world where boredom need not exist, where an instant hit requires only to dip the toes in, to drink just a little of the digital froth.

So escape? I get distracted. I forget. Instead of escaping into my mind alone, into contemplative silence, into peace, I escape into diversion. I end up in a whirlwind or wild ideas and useless drivel, of heart-felt moments and half-assed thoughts... I end up in the whirlwind and forget to get out, forget to break free and let my mind wander, let my thoughts settle, do something with all the ideas consumed.

I forget to escape.

They're all tools. That's the true trick to remember. All the toys to access the information - just tools. And tools you can set down on the work bench.

Escape is this image: Looking out to the backyard from inside the garage, camera low, on the floor. Remnant objects of a project are strewn about, evening light streaming in, and dusty footprints move out toward the backyard. Panning up, the camera catches the hint of a silhouette in the setting sun, an arm unbinding a burden, tossing it aside. The silhouette disappears, leaving the yard, walking off, simply, to somewhere else.

Somewhere a little more quiet.

Posted by noblehobo at 8:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Since I've spent the better part of the last two years surrounded by snow and ice, one might think that I could stand a break from it in warmer climes. Instead, the fact that I'm currently getting buried out in Boulder, CO and spent a chunk of the morning laughing as I kicked through a foot of fluff, well, I've missed this style. I don't have the multitude of words for different types as the Inuit do but I certainly know that they're correct in categorizing. This is perfect snowball/snowshoe/cross-country skiing weather.

Tonight, when the snow is still falling and it carpets the sounds of the city, I'll go out walking in that muffled comfort.

For now, I'll be working from home (spreadsheets, documentation, and email, oh my!) and enjoying the view.

Posted by noblehobo at 10:32 AM | Permalink

So in the past, trying to clean the comment sections of this site up from a plague of spam, I accidentally killed a great deal of entries. Most of them were from the start of this mess of words, from my first season on the ice in 2003. Thanks to the magic of the WayBack Machine, however, I've been able to reconstruct the missing entries - spelling mistakes, early (poor) writing, and all.

Strange to think that back in early 2003 my site was one of thousands upon thousands being cataloged in an attempt to "preserve" the internet. Strange that I've a few magnetic bits floating around in petabyte upon petabyte (that's lots upon lots) of information in a server room in San Francisco. Strange that for all the preservation being done, it's so fragile (a whole discussion on the archeological ramifications of our digital storage of current history). Strange indeed, but satisfied.

Satisfied that I've got a few old entries back - that there is an equivalent feeling to finding old journals once lost again. Even if I may not be immensely proud of what they contain, they still contain me. I'd rather not lose that small bit of memory, that small piece of my soul.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:20 PM | Permalink

So some of you have seen my email and Facebook update/spam requesting help already. For those of you how missed it, here's one more run:

I've an idea in my head for a trip that I'll be going on from June to August, one that will be finalizing itself in the next couple of months. A human-powered trip to discover the human power that drives Minnesota. I'll be spending the summer bicycling throughout the state, interviewing as many people as possible, striving to listen to a cross-section of folks and seeking to learn how Minnesota is tying into the green technology revolution, into sustainable agriculture and community-sponsored movements. The path I'll travel by will follow state parks for camping, the interviews I want to tackle, and by weddings of friends and family that are not too be missed. What I'm interested in, as I build the details of this trip up, are brainstorms and thought-wanders, are connections and interesting people, be they you, a friend of yours, or an acquaintance. I'm well open to suggestions now, to ideas and thoughts, so if you've a moment and wish to be involved on any level, send your reflections my way. Feel free to pass this on to others you know - to spread the search for folk attached to the movements I mentioned or just plain intriguing folk. Send me stories, ideas, new branches to explore...I'll have ninety days to learn about the state of my birth, to listen, to breath it in, to write, to think - and no telling what may come of it. I may be working with radio and magazines, I may publish with local papers, I may form up a book - or I might just drink it in with a giant grin and share what of it I can.

Here are the areas of focus I'd most like to pursue (and where I'd most like your suggestions) but if something outside of this stands out to you - launch it my direction anyway:

- Individuals/groups to speak with in the areas of the green technology movement (non-profits, windmill co-ops, solar projects, hydro, alternative fuels, sustainability pursuits, soil conservation, rural projects, urban projects, etc.)

- Individuals/groups to speak with in the areas of community and sustainable agricultural movements (local food co-ops, community sponsored agriculture, successful and consistent farmers markets, anyone sharing information we might be losing over time such as canning, salt-curing meats, non-industrial farming techniques, local organic or natural farmers and farming methods, etc.)

- Individuals who you feel are making a major difference in the growth and success of Minnesota, regardless of political, religious, or socio-economic background, powerful characters that inspire others, teachers, community leaders, forward-thinking folk whose goals strive to make Minnesota a better place.

- Things not to miss - places to see in the state be they natural or manmade, the hidden bits that only locals in an area may know such as the Dam Pie Store by Rapidan, Pillow Rock in Ely, or the Graffiti Graveyard in Duluth.

- Ideas on what to pursue related to green tech and sustainability, communities not to skip, and if you'd just like me to pop in for a visit.

I'll be trying to document as much of this trip online as possible (working on a couple of pursuits for internet access while out and about) - putting up interviews, thoughts, a up-to-date mapping of where I am, of who I'm going to be speaking with next. In short, I've a lot cut out to do by June. But then, if I'm not running harried to get the next thing done, I might learn what it's like to be bored...

You can email me at nathan<-AT->noblehobo<-DOT->com (replace the funky bits with the usual @ character and a period) or leave a comment here. Hope to hear from you soon!

Posted by noblehobo at 5:08 PM | Permalink

Came across a small town in the mountains the other day, a throwback to libertarian ideals and isolation, escaping the modern world. It's a rough town - compiled of gravel, dirt, and old gold-mining grit, abandoned cars, and decrepit homes. There are more than a few dwellings that were once a vehicle, now-parked, now the foundation for something much larger, much more permanent. The smell of woodsmoke is strong and the general store is just that - very small, and very general - just enough of the staples to get by, in a building that is smaller than most suburban sheds.

Those who dwell there are a balanced breed of redneck and intellectual - all there to determine their own path over any other, to avoid the dictates of disagreed-with laws, and to claim ownership to a space as much as an idea. Trespassing, picture-taking, sight-seeing gawking - these are discouraged passively through the crude, worn look and actively with shrewd eyes, loud voices, and the occasional gun shot. They are not to be easily trifled with.

The county whose jurisdiction they fall under largely leaves them be, coming if called for domestic abuse or something more severe. Generally, they police themselves through restorative justice - i.e. if a resident was drinking and driving and hit a corner of someone's house, a town arbiter would work out what one party need do to restore balance. No cops, no court, no fine - just restoration of the original situation by way of reparation to the victim. They carry their own fire department and their own "police". When a public building was defaced by kids not long back, it was repainted within twelve hours...a strange contrast in a town where many homes have not been painted at all, still covered in the colors of where the paneling and wood were scavenged from.

Gardens sprout in homemade greenhouses and south facing windows, treasures and beautiful rooms are hidden behind ugly exteriors, the ratio of doctorates to general population is eccentrically high, and while not everyone agrees, they all hold toe against a line when something threatens what they have. There's even a pirate radio station that residents tune in to when something untoward is going on, when outsiders linger. More than one home had a wolf standing out front (gentle giant, the one I met).

They tell me that the fourth of July around town holds a special flair - a spectacular mess of explosions, alcohol, the local fire brigade on speed, and enough gun fire in the air to resemble something closer to armageddon than a fireworks display. It's too bad I won't be around to see it.

The mountains are like that - hiding something different around each cornice, in each valley. I've lived on the edge of them before (in Sequoia) but have never moved further into the interior like this, have never begun to grasp the expanse of granite and grit that the Rocky Mountains are. Like Lake Superior is very good at doing, they remind me that I am a small being. They leave me humbled as I stand atop them, a fragile creature in the cold wind, a thankful presence on their ridge-top seat.

Posted by noblehobo at 3:43 PM | Permalink

To make peace with the past, to say thank you, then gently set aside (or try to) old frustrations and resentments, to say hello again...

...one should never pass up said chances. There is always more to learn, to understand, and to grow into but there is little worth more than walking forward with a lighter heart.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

At the end of every seasonal contract, you are forced to contemplate the great "what's next". Depending on the previous job, this can be a frenzied search for something with an immediate paycheck or a far more lackadaisical approach at tackling the unknown. It can be a time of peace and self-understanding as much as it can be a time of mild panic and frustration.

Back in school, I dreaded art assignments and graphic design projects that had completely open or unwritten objectives. I craved a set of rules, simple or complex, against which to test ideas, throw themes at, find ways to look at differently, or break if necessary. The borders set around me only increased my want and will to put together a creative solution, to do something more than was expected.

Coming off of a winter at the South Pole, becoming debt free, saving a small amount of money, being single, and having no dependents, I find myself with a very, very open road ahead of me. My problem is not in lacking a direction, but in having too many to choose from. The realities of life have not narrowed my choices by way of finances, responsibilities, and commitments. They have not created rules from within which I have to determine my future. They have not set the expectations that I want to exceed.

I find myself driving down the road, struggling to grab on to tens if not hundreds of different paths to choose from. I can see plans that would unfold over the next few weeks of visiting friends, of helping family, of putting my resume together and applying for jobs starting immediately and over the next few months. I can see short term plans of where to live for the spring, be it Denver, Duluth, Minneapolis, New Orleans, Alaska, or something else entirely, of making art or simply spending time up north. I can see longer term plans of going back to Antarctica, of going back to school for teaching and/or biology, of working in the growing sustainability movement, of a cabin on land I own in the woods...and I can see the plans that have no particular time-line yet, such as building a writing career or biking throughout the state of Minnesota. I can see all of these things dancing in the fog, some mingling together, some crossing off the possibility that others promise.

It's a "grass is always greener" dilemma to lament the choices that I have, so I seek not to. I can't stop struggling over what to choose, but I can be thankful that I have the options. I must have done something right somewhere for the opportunities that keep coming my way. And I can set my own rules as I go.

Because, on a great many levels, I need those rules. I need to define a set of walls to throw some metaphorical graffiti on, to climb up and look over, to punch a hole in. I function better that way.

If I don't set a plan down to aim for, a path to trod, I'll just end up spinning away in neutral.

Posted by noblehobo at 7:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Details on the last couple of months will be forthcoming soon. In the mean, enjoy this bizarre (and epidemic-like) moving chart detailing the growth of Wal-mart:

Horrifying

Posted by noblehobo at 1:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Ever have those moments where you wish you were still a part of a story long since moved beyond you?

Grand wishes to those with whom I've shared writing credits in the tome of life before and who now I read from afar...

Posted by noblehobo at 9:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

"The course of wisdom consists of learning to trade easy pleasures for more complex and challenging ones."

- Marcus Aurelius

Posted by noblehobo at 4:07 PM | Permalink

The other night, in a severe bout of insomnia, I looked to writing to clear my head. I plied my history, digging back into former jobs, former homes, former loves. I piled history up as numbers and statistics, titles and positions, locations and places. At the age of twenty-nine it appears that I've been through several mid-life crises, am still in the process of growing up, and have loved fiercely if not terribly long-term. Based on the statistics and stories that I pulled together I think I more than adequately fit the title of this site, of a noble hobo.

Some examples culled from the sleepless nights of the South Pole:

I have held over twenty different jobs with a variety of organizations and groups, leaving each for good reasons or the end of contracts - I've never once been fired or let go. At varying points in my life I've been a short-order cook, grocery store grunt, audio-visual technician, interactive television consultant, general laborer, graphic designer, freelance designer, president of a 250 member student organization, wilderness trail laborer, crew leader, youth leader, alternative teacher, heavy equipment operator, prep cook, materialsperson, logistics coordinator, project manager, technical consultant, help desk, emergency response on scene command, artist, amateur writer, political organizer, system administrator and wilderness first responder. I've volunteered and worked for others, worked for the government, owned my own design firm, and held my own in the wilderness for extended periods of time. I've experience as a state-level participant in discussion, in presenting and debating issues and budgets with college school boards, with a variety of protests and protest groups, have learned financial balance the hard way (and recovered), have a background in music and theater, know the basics of climbing, kayaking (whitewater and flatwater), and am well-experienced in backpacking and hiking. I've traveled to foreign countries, speak some Spanish, have seen most of the United States, have been detained, have made various newspapers for both good and bad reasons, and seem to have a talent for moving into positions and pursuits under qualified but coming out with a growing expertise and success.

I have moved thirty-four times in my life, thirteen of which took place before I graduated high school. I have lived in seventeen different places (I tend to leave and come back a lot - just ask my friends in Duluth) ranging from the states of the midwest to the shores of Lake Superior, from Chicago to the forests of the great Sequoias in California, from the mountains of Vermont to the hills of Isle Royale, and to the wide expanse that is Antarctica. I have lived in everything from tents (canvas and nylon) to 2000 square foot lofts in downtown Chicago and from giant, multi-bedroom homes (the Lemondrop) to isolated lake cabins.

I have loved six women in my life, known more, and have seen a future with three women. Not that I've been permanently successful in my long term pursuits but I have tried, have had others sacrifice for me and have sacrificed for others. I've had my heart broken and broken hearts. I've known many friends and acquaintances, strive to offer others what they offer me, have been taught the meaning of loyalty by a very good, very old friend, have been able to offer a good word toward friends seeking particular jobs, have been offered such in return, and am learning just how small the world really is.

I've done a lot and experienced a great deal. The kicker is that I've got plenty more to see and do - that for all I've done I continue to look up to those around me with admiration, astonishment, and awe. I'm fortunate to be surrounded by many others who pursue life as I do both here and in the real world, many others of whom inspire me to continue to learn. Instead of an odd man out with a few others to lean on, in the world of Antarctica, I'm in a collection of my peers.

Posted by noblehobo at 11:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Small moments of serendipity find me occasionally.

Tonight, I had a broiling contention and perspective on humanity and a need to find words with which to share it. I tend to procrastinate before writing, to clean my room, read another's words, make a phone call, watch tv... Anything but do what I intend, anything to put off something that I know will be good for me. I haven't yet figured that one out.

In the midst of the procrastination, however, I ran across someone who stated it so eloquently, all I can do is point you in her direction. You'd best listen to the song too.

Here.

Posted by noblehobo at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Nothing whatsoever to do with Antarctica tonight. Instead, after an unspecified chunk of time not functioning, an old favorite website is back up and running, Tiny Mix Tapes.

I consider myself a pretentious music snob on occasion and get a solid kick out of piling hours into mix tapes for friends and love interests, but these folks make me a pale indie kid by comparison. The themes to the mixes (user submitted) range the gamut from corny to hopelessly romantic to bizarre and the mixes are an eclectic gathering of current indie rock groups, classic punk, classic rock, and the occasional obscure but incredibly good random artist. It's a great place to find new artists and songs to meander after and investigate.

Some examples of the themes Tiny Mix Tapes builds on:

-We’re both artsy, neurotic, pretentious douchebags. We’re perfect for each other. Let’s make out.

-Got everything I need on my back and ready to see the world.

-We have tricked a homophobic future investment banker into thinking my male friend desperately wants him. Now we need a tape to continue the ruse, and to accompany the cupcakes we’re putting on his doorstep.

-Songs to help me accept that, if my life was The Golden Girls, I would be Dorothy. Dammit.

-It’s not going to happen, but you can still paint me naked.

-Songs for having an orgasm in art class.

-Nice to meet you. Can I use you?

-If the house was on fire, I’d save you last.

-Songs for sleeping in a hammock.

-Let’s fall madly in love and move out to a cabin in the woods with your dogs and have crazy hermit sex all day, everyday.

Posted by noblehobo at 1:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

From Harper's Index, June 1986:

Amount the Reagan Administration has budgeted for military bands in 1987: $154,200,000

Amount it has budgeted for the National Endowment for the Arts:$144,900,000

Posted by noblehobo at 12:27 AM | Permalink

I'm intrigued by determined personalities, by those who have a particular goal or singular pursuit in life.

Intrigued because I don't understand it. I'm not built that way, at least not for the long-term. Some people have the ability to build their life around a specific dream, every detail striving toward that final assumption. I maneuver in a wider circle, a track that jumps trains of thought and interests widely and quickly. I can focus my attention tightly for short term goals of various natures but devote my life to one single idea?

Maybe the fact that I'm currently in the middle of seven different books is a good example.

Or maybe the specific goal doesn't have to be so specific, maybe an ideal is what exists, a goal focused on with a wider-angle lens.

Is a sense of curiosity and wonder enough? What greater gift do we receive than that of learning what it is to be human? We spend our entire lives attempting to understand the meaning behind our existence, our world as it relates to self and others, our hearts, our minds... Learning just how we tick - that's an adventure I can focus my entire life on.

Posted by noblehobo at 1:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I enjoy, when given a chance to see them, perspectives that come with time - hints of a growing wisdom, age with knowledge instead of just age.

For instance, thoughts on trust and the manifestations thereof in past relationships. A view that our trust in others, if not clearly communicated, dictates our actions toward them, but not theirs toward us.

In English (sort of): if I trust someone implicitly, my actions (my faithfulness, in terms of relationships) follow in accordance. If my trust is not complete and questions or jealously exists in the airwaves, then my actions will be based on that ambivilance or paranoia. If my trust is implicit, and I am not careful, I will view my partner in that same manner, as trusting me completely. If my partner does not trust me completely, then there can be no faith in the implicit manner of trust that I offer.

In story: My heart was broken solidly, several years past. Though the healing has long since taken place, the understanding of how and why the end happened occasionally grows. It's nice to know I'll be able to take better care next time.

As a side note, with winter coming up at the Pole, a repeat of a brief manifesto:

I will die an idealist, even if it kills me.

Posted by noblehobo at 12:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

While writing an apology letter related to a certain infamous class reunion "incident", I realized how thankful I was for a specific book resting on my shelf.

Of my entire collection of tomes buried stateside and the few that I have here at the South Pole, one continues to be used over and over again. I can't recall who gave it to me any longer (I'm thinking a family member at some point in early high school) but it has been a damn fine resource for years. It's a grammar book, "Basic English Revisited" filled with goofy cartoons and packed full of advice on proper written English, business letter formats, present and past tense, etc. Exactly the kind of gift not appropriately appreciated at the time of its giving, but dog-eared and well-used now.

So anyhow, here's a thank-you to the ether for a goofy little reference book that has wandered with me to many locales and aided in the "professional" writing of my life.

Now if only I had mailed my dictionary down...

Posted by noblehobo at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

as a general rule, when i walk city streets, i avoid putting in headphones. i'd rather skip the music and drink in the cacophony of human existence. i would rather listen to the laughter and shouts of children, the sounds of traffic, pieces of conversation floating by. tonight, for a change, i tossed in some new music and went for a walk in an old familiar place.

christchurch, new zealand, seems like a stopover to me - the point of transition between the states and antarctica. it has history, however; weeks of it. as i walked the city with a heavy indy rock beat and hopeless romantic lyrics in my ears, my memories played out like a movie.

it's a simple process, available to all of us, to separate out our self from reality with the wall that music can provide. my observer role felt that much more removed as conversations between passing couples disappeared into silently moving mouths. looking up to the taller buildings or into restaurants and former haunts felt like i was directing a camera, ordering the most appropriate artistic movement and color choice to frame an old memory.

this city, like many other spaces, is alive with the presence of friendships and story, held fast together with equal parts nostalgia, hope, and dream. so what does it all boil down to? that a good walk is just that, and that the stars of the southern hemisphere hold an ancient comfort.

Posted by noblehobo at 3:44 AM | Permalink

i was raised, by society and family, to trust and look for an authoritative voice to dictate my actions and decisions. as a young adult and adult, i have made choices dictating my life frequently. i have not had or taken authoritative direction for many, many years. still, i search for the easy comfort in that voice, something or someone telling you what the "right" choice or the "right" path is. that is not a position of self-reliance. it is a position that abdicates responsibility to the voice of another, freeing you to perform the consequences of a limiting decision. it is accepting comfort and ease in exchange for a smaller available world.

we are not always fortunate to have a complete picture when we need it. vital pieces of information often elude our grasp when the time comes to choose which fork to take in the road. it would be easier to wait for more information to come to us or for an answer from the outside. the world continues to move, however, and so must we, lest we lose the ability to dictate our own fate.

life, then, is less often about making the "right" decision, as it is about doing right with the decisions that we have already made.

Posted by noblehobo at 10:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

this weekend was spent on a visit with old college friends, playing in the foothills (mountains to me) outside of fort collins, colorado. luke, mark, and julie took me out for my first real run of mountain single track. 1800 feet of vertical climb and and a straight drop the first day, then a great cross country run on sunday. we finished the second ride on the front edge of a thunderstorm, the lightning framing the sky and the thunder driving us to move quickly.

it was a great ride. i had time to listen to the thunderstorm build, to feel the change in the air as it breached the mountains on the opposite side of the valley. there was no noise to interrupt it's story as it spoke out over the plains.

it may have been the last storm i am able to experience for some time. i drank it in.

some pictures from the first day: I started out, trying to look tough. We took old logging roads up, for the most part, then hung out in the trees while mark goofed around with his helmet. From there, it was down the mountain, over the river, and through the woods.

tomorrow starts structural fire fighting class. i'll be learning how well i deal with open flame and full protective gear (nomex, oxygen tanks, etc.). pictures and stories to follow...

Posted by noblehobo at 10:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

warming my toes in the setting sun from my rooftop porch (which, incidentally, is really only on the first rooftop, our turret still towers over me) i can relax a touch. there's just enough light by the end of the summer day that the sun and i can meet once my mind is settled. we sit down and chat for a spell, he slowly settling in behind the hilltop and me, sipping a chai tea and occasionally glancing over at the harbor.

if this isn't perfect, well...

smells and sounds drift in: the church bell from a tower several blocks behind me, horns from freighters in the bay, my roommate's bob dylan tunes, the smoke from a passerby's cigarette, road traffic.

i suppose that i could find something to complain about but that would take effort and this porch is not an effort inducing location.

one of my roommates (who's soon to be gone for idaho) was lamenting trading away his ride the other day, losing his mobility in this societal reality. we bounced back and forth on that one, musing on the ethical and environmental concerns that lead us to think not owning a car is best but stuck on the realization that inter-city travel in the midwest is a bear without ones own wheels.

ultimately though, we each miss owning a vehicle because we've tied our mental space (and the re-ordering of it) to the road.

there are thousands of miles traversed on long summer nights and winter afternoons where the drone of road contours and music offered a backdrop to the arranging and rearranging of thought and dream. the car fast cluttered with a thought here, a dream there, an idea placed in the glove compartment or a whole thematic life transition dropped in the trunk. the space gets filled up so quickly that pretty soon the thoughts drift the roadside too, strung along like ribbons or cans fluttering and clanking down the freeway. future hopes attached to prairie bluffs in western north dakota, seasonal job plans somewhere in the desserts north of las vegas, a plan for a new start tied to an oceanside cliff in maine...

all spread out, all nicely spaced to allow the contemplation of one section, one bit at a time, no mess of conglomerated pieces all colliding and collapsing on top of one another, clamoring for attention and notice.

pity then, those in such a space, who find themselves in an accident, physical or metaphorical, that jars them from said bliss - thoughts crashing back together with elastic strength, some snapped off, others mashed into one.

we wondered, as we talked, what bits of us remained in what locations, how convoluted the former paths were when you included thought-space not restricted to the road (how much of me is tied to a cherry-striped pole at the bottom of the world, anyway?). wondered if driving down the right freeway might gather up the thoughts left behind after a surprise jolt, might realign the energy and gather ourselves whole again.

and my roommate? he's off on such a mission...on a train through the great northern plains to a firetower on a mountain top for a summer.

i'm waiting to see what the sun pulls back for me while we chat it up in the evenings.

Posted by noblehobo at 7:15 PM | Permalink

1. i will die an idealist. even if it kills me.

2. i find it disturbing that amazon.com has a better record of my past addresses than i do.

Posted by noblehobo at 6:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

art, as i grew to understand it, was a sanity-saver. an entity pressed to the fore when needed to combat depression, anxiety, fear. it was light against the darkness of the unknown.

for the most part, it still is.

and maybe that's why i haven't been writing as much lately.

i'm in a damn good place in a great many ways.

things to be thankful for? that the only strife in my life is strife i choose to create. that i am a man fortunate to find himself choosing between dreams, not choosing between fated realities. that the woman i love does so by putting my dreams before hers - asks no quarter or sacrifice, asks only that i do what makes my soul smile. that there are people in the world with that courage, that i strive to offer the same to her, my family, my friends.

that the snow here has been piled high for sledding, that croquet awaits this afternoon (good, goofy friends in the frigid air), that people dance like maniacs, that there are good books nearby, that i'm learning - always learning, that there is understanding found in many places, that the weekend was full of brilliant blue skies and low winds - that we played outside in clothing the average minnesotan would wear at 32 above when it was 32 below, that i'm playing at the bottom of the earth, that i know which direction to shout a hello to my friends back home from, that the food is grand, that wine brought out a great many smiles (and stories) at last night's celebration...

that there are people willing to laugh at themselves.

that i have been lucky enough to be the places i've been, loved whom i've loved, and find each passing moment to be of endearing and lasting value.

that tomorrow is another day in a long procession of growth.

that there is a smile waiting for me this spring.

that i am a member of this group of humanity all striving to figure out just what it is to be human...

these are some of the things i'm thankful for.

quite a few, on a sappy, lazy, sunday afternoon - and many more unnamed.

now, off to play in the snow again.

Posted by noblehobo at 6:10 AM | Permalink

happy, happy nate.

Posted by noblehobo at 10:30 PM | Permalink

ever get that feeling you should be relaxing and that you're failing miserably at it? seems to be the case this fine afternoon as i plan for the next stages of my life...
but then who can really complain - i have everything that a person could want in life - friends, love, family, couches to crash on, dreams and all that grand stuff - i'm just missing the sleep aspect. to a nap and then a return to the social world.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

i played in the rain today, puddle jumping and splashing my way to a great soaking with a quality friend. spent some time staring at the colors of southern minnesota in the alternating weather - the thick greens and blues, heavy with the saturation of falling water.

there's a smell to every area that i've been to - a sense. it's more than a smell though - it's a synthesis of a great number of sensations, a collection of assorted bits that leads to the 'smell' of a place. i can't place it with a name or begin to give it words but my body knows inherently where i am (be it southern mn, the south pole, duluth, etc...) when i breath deep.

and i'm off to the woods now for a summer of moments and the deep breath of a place.

i'll be a happy nate.

Posted by noblehobo at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

tex mex

i made salsa tonight.
seems a simple enough thing, to make salsa, to cook. it strikes me different these days though - an action full of a weight that i'm not used to.

i made salsa tonight. in a kitchen that i can call my own in a house that i can call my own with music in the background and folk moving through. yeah, i'll only be here a month and sure, i'm just renting space but this is the closest to a non-work-related home i've had in the last couple of years. i've made my way through since new years eve of 2003 floating from tents and temporary structures to couches, cars, and beds provided by friends and family. nothing that i've had for a living space outside of residence-based work has been mine - it has all been (wonderful) favors of those that love me (or are at least mildly amused by me...). i can rationalize the truth of it out into just about anything that i would like and banter on about other places that have felt like home or felt familiar but in their own ways they are far different entities than this.

so tonight i sliced and diced my way to a veggie and spice monstrosity. i played cook in the kitchen for myself and some newly acquired roommates . and it isn't home, it isn't permanent, realistically it isn't even mine, but it's good.

Posted by noblehobo at 9:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

i am a collector, smiling,
dying slowly while mining
for moments, ideas and life
contendely sighing, satisfied
to be the eyes, the sense
in the flow of the greater river.

deep comfort in the heart
of the universe, release in
belonging - in sharing
the power of creation
and the joy of being created.
i am a collector, smiling.

Posted by noblehobo at 11:51 AM | Permalink

to those who are part of who i am, to those who i love and hold, to those who allow me to see, to those who whose intensity i share, to those who allow me to be who i need to be, to all of you i know,

thank you.

Posted by noblehobo at 3:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"love flowers best in openess and freedom."

-edward abbey, desert solitaire

Posted by noblehobo at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

categorically speaking, we are odd creatures - humans. on the whole of this planet we are the only organism that flouts the natural cycles. we have built our arbitrary measure of time and live by it instead of by the moon, the stars, and the sun. we have chosen to recodify and recontextualize that which already made sense. we went out and damaged our own idiom: "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

at night here in sequoia this is readily apparent to me. i am in the front country, as such i cannot avoid human encounter, but the wild aspects of this park run closer to human habitation than most places. near my tent at the close of day, i get the sense of nature readying herself for the night.

each morning i am woken by a cacophony of noises. barking squirrels and chipmunks chittering back and forth with each other, birds calling out territory or crying for mates, the breaking of underbrush from wandering mule deer or black bear, various insects skittering on (or in) my tent. my alarm is set for six but the animals begin their crescendo an hour earlier, coming to life in a graceful arc that follows the slow mountain sunrise.

nights are the same in reverse as the volume and movement calm to stillness and quiet. even the nocturnal creatures move in silence. in the still of the night, the only noise that i hear is human derived - traffic on generals highway, two miles distant and the main road through the park.

every creature here follows the rise and fall of the sun, the change of the weather in the air, the exchange of action in coolness, rest in heat.

i, an outcast, follow a clock.

weekends are my bastion. the clock finds its way beneath a pile of clothing, meals are moved to times of hunger, fire to times of warmth, and waking and sleeping to the times of the sun. outside of the fact that i am, slowly, catching glimpses of simplicity and beauty all around me, other odd things have begun to happen.

for instance, i hardly yawn at all anymore. it's not that i'm getting any more sleep than i usually do - but my sleep is sound and adequate to what my body needs. i am at rest when the rest of the world rests and am energized throughout the day. my dreams are vivid, wonderful, and story-telling in nature. if i choose to analyze them - play them out in the context of my life - they are often prophetic in their answers and understandings. most importantly, there is a deeper satisfaction in my soul - a calming influence is in effect, a method to my madness so to speak. questions that don't ultimately matter go from a gnashing roar to a very, very quiet drone. life's aspects of import take focus without strain or effort. love, trust, and real communication gain precedence - simpler understandings of time, place, being, things, and people are realized. life begins to make sense, why we're here doesn't seem like so large a question and the universe offers up all of its wondrous marvels in exchange only for your contented sigh and thankfulness - especially for that in front of your eyes - the simple scene that fills all of your senses with its perfection.

life made sense long before our attempts to classify and codify it. the universe will continue to function and move - past, present, and future - no matter how we define it or attempt to take ownership of it. perhaps the great chorus of human experience could benefit greatly by remembering this every now and again.

there is, and always has been, magic in the woods, the deserts, the lakes, the rivers, the mountains, the plains, the valleys, the oceans, - in all places still wild. if you haven't yet felt it, now is the time to start looking. if you haven't felt it in some time, now is when it is best to remember.

there is magic out there to be witnessed and understood. it is the heartbeat of the land, the soul of the earth. it is mother. it is father. it is creator. it is home.

Posted by noblehobo at 8:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

community for me is an odd duck. when i get homesick, it is not for a place. there is an ethereal neighborhood, a nonexistent town, but real people inhabit it. those in my life that i love, that i'm intrigued by, that challenge me, that i can relate to, that i call family, that i call friends, that i call random good people i know or hope to know better - these are the denizens of my home. they've never all lived in the same place, not all have met, most have little inkling of the other, and all exist in their own community as well. when i am homesick, however, this is the community that i crave for - the assorted collection of eccentric folk i hold close - the town connected by miles upon miles, emails, letters, phone calls, blind luck, faith, and trust.

home sweet home is a strange sort of tao for me - it goes wherever i go, yet is never entirely there. i'm a boy of the present moment, mostly, but a boy who treasures past and future presents as much as the current one. too bad that a continually changing present (i.e. location) leads to a tough road to hold, leads to incredible highs and dangerous lows. it's the trade off of balance, methinks.

nature strives for it at all times and in all places, balance. we are not free from the struggle. our moods swing reflexively based on the paths we trod, on our life choices. it's freedom, for some, to maintain a balance of minimal ups and downs, comfort sans extreme. it's wanderlust for others (choice or curse), a course of wild adventures and confusing slow-time, amazing experiences at all ends of the spectrum - good, bad, and in-between.

perhaps my understanding of the community i call out to, try to hold together in my experience of the world, perhaps that is my balance.

i have no place that i call home, but there are people whom i call home.

Posted by noblehobo at 8:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

we're funny animals, humans, always running around redefining the shape and texture of the world to fit our liking. we invent what, ultimately, are arbitrary topics. topics whose existence we take as solid, but the march of change may someday prove otherwise. science, math, language - arbitrary concepts piled on top of simple basic truths that we are struggling to understand better (yet often confuse ourselves) by getting too attached to our own definitions....

Posted by noblehobo at 8:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

it's often expressed that pictures are worth a thousand words. right now, i disagree.

the last couple of weeks have filled my eyes with landscapes that cannot be captured in photographs, at least not by me. words, however, offer something that i can move, push, touch, alter, and understand. pictures can capture a moment, words a feeling.

and such a grand variety too:

driving over the plains, through the southwest, in the foothills of the rockies, past scrub brush and desert, past rock and cliff, i was left with a bizarre impression. i was moving through landscapes not familiar, through places that i have only ever known through pictures or in past (faded) memory. they existed as paintings and sculptures, as massive artistic projects brought forth by someone with a mind-numbing eye for detail.

the rock outcrop sticking up from the waving tan grasses was a mold, formed in the manner of the giant model train constructions i saw occasionally as a child. the metemorphic lines in a cliff face? an abstract painting i last viewed in a dark room during an art history lecture. the cattle on the distant grassland? small plastic figurines, placed carefully in a natural manner. trees edging the mountain tops at the treeline? glued together using small twigs and lichen. the sky shimmering over the desert? a massive canvas dripping in vibrant blues.

all of it construction, all of it art, none of it reality.

and it hasn't changed yet.

i saw my first sequoia a couple of days ago as we hiked to our worksite. sitting on a mountainside at 7000 feet, catching my sea-level breath, i was astounded at the size of the tree i faced. it was all i could do to wrap my mind around its upper branches, soaring 200 feet above, or its trunk, some five or six feet wide. the tree easily dwarfed the largest i have ever seen previously, made the largest pines in minnesota look like twigs. what really took me for a loop, however, was that i was staring at a pine. the sequoia behind it was something alien, something different entirely.

orange, ochre, and red brushstrokes plied their way toward the sky, clammoring toward branches that began a hundred feet up, the top dwarfing the pine in front. the tree stood on its own, an open space surrounding if for tens of feet, leaving little to judge its width by. i walked down, to try to understand, and found that it was three times wider than i am tall. it was master of this forest, and it had withstood a burn that took others like it and smaller down - had reduced them to the dark silence of charcoal.

and this sequoia was a small one...

i've since seen larger ones, and seen pictures of sequoias nearly thirty feet in diameter. seen images, seen paintings, seen sculptures, but not yet reality.

my mind is still working over-time to understand this scale, the scope of these entities, their age (nearly 2000 years old or more), their simple existance. i don't have anything to compare them to but art; words, paintings, and sculpture - which they are, of an infinitely perfect and overwhelming variety.

i've tried to take pictures, but i can't do them justice. i've tried to write about them, but i feel i'm not even coming close to conveying what they are, what these mountains and forests carry or will allow me to see by the end of the summer.

it is that which exists in the same mysteries of love and friendship - the deep and abiding understanding beyond and above words - something far more simple and warm that our attempts to interperet it can match.

i've been blessed to know this warmth in many ways and many forms - it's an easy feeling to forget though, to miss in the attempts to understand it in the forward reaches of our brains. it's out there though, and i'm off to bask in it for a summer, for a lifetime.

Posted by noblehobo at 7:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

things discovered while hanging about the greater denver metropolitan area:

-all cars are sold by two people - burt or jon elway. seriously. i haven't yet seen a dealership not owned by one or the other. and i have no idea who this 'burt' character is either. sounds shady...

-they're not joking when 'they' talk about the smog in denver. it hangs over the city like a giant, brown, slightly transparent lump.

-an entire private city/office complex/golf course with its own logos, street layouts, sign posts and such. one wrong turn and i was stuck there for the better part of an hour trying to find my way out of the winding streets. the streets all turned back into the center of the place with just a couple of exits out to the real world.

-the mountains are beautiful. that is, of course, when you can see them through the smog.

it's an odd place this, not bad, not good, just not for me.

some friends to see tomorrow and then on to cali and the summer employ.

Posted by noblehobo at 4:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

so i'm sitting in a little coffee shop off of lyndale in minneapolis, using my newly aquired wireless card to sap a free internet connection. in turn i'm using the free internet connection to surf out random bits and pieces of info on the web, email friends and family, and, perhaps narcisistically, bantering off here, to my website. sipping my chai latt��� i can lean back and sigh (as a bevy of indy-rock fills my headphone covered ears) fully content in the fact that i am yuppified.

oi!

and how truly easy it is to change and transfer lifestyles for the young and mobile these days. two months ago i could qualify as an adventuresome world traveller, two weeks ago a dutiful son, two days ago an unemployed twenty-something, tomorrow a design nerd, and two months from now a granola-eating ground-pounder (read: trail construction in sequoia national park). i've spanned a great many roles in the last year alone, and a great many more are to come.

as for the immediate future, i'll be designing again as i wander back to aid and abet the happenings at those who helped launch me as the designer i am today - storeworks. in light of the fact that i'll be returning to work (and building up to be a more current design ���ber nerd than i have been lately), some fun links:

first off, you can nail down that ever elusive color and astrology reading in an official manner thanks to pantone. my life can be handed down to a very specific shade of earthy-green: pms 18-0332. go figure that my cynical self is actually quite pleased with the color - kind of a favorite o' mine. will the wonders never cease?

second, turn off the tube, and get the hell outside, into a book, into conversation, into anything other than the television set. this week is tv turn-off week. namely, it's a week with a stated goal of getting people to spend that (very usable) 1-5 hours a day doing anything other than watching commercials. and yes, that includes movies too. do yourself a favor and grab onto the spring weather before it moves on - celebrate it regardless. rainy and cold? in august you'll crave it, enjoy it now like you would then. dig into a book you've been aching to for years/months/days and hide with it in a corner until you're done. grab a friend, grab some coffee/wine/beer/water/whatever and chat it up until dawn. engage in human contact, the simple miracle of life, good music, anything.

and, finally, a good way to feel slightly depressed, but greatly enlightened - take a tour of your daily ecological footprint on the planet at myfootprint.org. if everyone lived as i did (though i had to fudge some answers due to my 'homeless' status) we'd need 16 earths to support us all. give it a shot - the answers might surprise you.

Posted by noblehobo at 4:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

solitude and straight horizons lead to heavy thinking - the possibilities of solid realizations and the all-to-easy chance to hang too tightly to stressors. southern mn is acting upon me again, up to its old games, and i'm (happily?) playing along.

not that i'm advocating a region is responsible for my current state of mind, but it certainly sets a familiar scene. here, where the wind blows errant across miles, where the horizon stretches endlessly and storms move across a powerful sky, here i should be able to let life move through me a little better. here, however, is where i learned to gather worry and future in one place, to hold on to it. everywhere else i have been has been a struggle to unlearn that habit.

it's a habit not taught by anyone specifically, but comes as an outpouring of our modern society. i banty endlessly about expectations, particularly about not having them, but in truth my speech is more to (falsely) reassure myself that i don't carry them. nearly all of us build expectations and toss them out in front of us. sometimes life matches up to them, but usually we hit our expectations like a brick wall. seated there, rubbing our stunned head, we stare in disbelief at a life that didn't work out the way we expected it to.

and that's the kicker - here in southern mn i am stuck with the realization that i carry expectations wherever i go - i'm just more adept at hiding them from myself when i'm elsewhere. that is, of course, until i get here and my internal thought processes have the space and time necessary to really get kickin'.

lately i've been trying to figure out my future, trying to place where in the traveling world i'll end up. without noticing, i let bits and pieces of plans, vague chunks of future ideas, morph into a more solid picture. so in the last couple of weeks, as new paths have shown up and other pieces of the picture have fallen flat, i've gotten bunched up. life, which should be flowing along the plains with the wind, has been gathered in my arms and held tight. as a result it has become heavy, as has my mood, as has my level of stress.

it's a mantra - no expectations - but one i'm not yet very skilled in following.

i was reminded lately, by a very, very good friend, of a good way to exist:

simply.

and she's right, quite right.

upcoming rants (as i try to reconnoiter my head in the next few days and think out loud):
-simplicity in spirituality
-simplicity in life
-simplicity in attitude and emotion
-on travel and the wanderlust involved

Posted by noblehobo at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

i don���t understand how it works (outside of the human necessity for pattern and analogy) but memory and place keep coinciding these days. new zealand was a land of ancient wisdom packed with variety - memory tells me that my experiences there were brief but powerful in depth. the pole was barren and desolate save for moments when small miracles of beauty were noticed and looking back i'm left with the wonder of intrigue intermixed with humdrum.
now, back in duluth visiting, i'm watching life move in time with the motion of superior, motioning in the waves of the lake's icy waters. i'm not trying to be overly melodramatic, but life really does seems to be coming in waves these days - waves of nostalgia, waves of friendship, of love, of pain, and many other movements in the shadows of a former duluth life.

Posted by noblehobo at 2:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

last night i looked over to the west to watch the sun set. it had slipped between the last remnants of an overcast sky and the horizon. the sun sat there, on the edge of the earth, luminous and orange, bathing the sky and surrounding buildings in a light tint of color. the wind picked up and played with leaves around my feet. i sighed contentedly and walked on.

it's good to be home.

Posted by noblehobo at 3:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

the travels back have brought me wandering to the lands of new zealand and the discovery that credit card companies hire inept help.

“yes, i’m in new zealand, and could you please tell me the pin number for my card? i’ve forgotten it after four months in the winter wonderand of antarctica.”

“certainly sir, i would be happy to help you. are you near the united states right now?”

“no, i’m in new zealand.”

“oh. will you be near the united states then?”

“no. i’m on an island nation over 8000 miles from the united states. i am not near there.”

“well, i can’t give you your pin number over the phone, i’ll have to mail it to your home address.”

“hmmm. let’s see. i’m a long way from home. are there other options?”

“certainly sir, i’d be happy to help you.”

pause

“um…”

pause

“hello?”

“sir? can i help you?”

“er, the other options?”

“oh, yes, you can use our automated phone service to change your password.”

“so i’d be getting my password over the phone?”

“i can’t give you your password over the phone, sir, i’m sorry, but i’d love to help you.”

“nevermind. how do i use your automated phone service?”

“it’s simple, quick, and easy, sir, you simply have to dial this number from your home phone…”

“wait. home phone?”

“yes, the computer registers your listed phone number in our accounts to verify you accurately and to..”

click

thirty minutes for naught. thank god the sun is shining and the weather is beautiful. i leave tomorrow for hiking endeavors and a break from city life and city spending. too many friends and too much alcohol leaves a man happy, drunk, and broke.

the wilderness of new zealand awaits…

Posted by noblehobo at 3:28 PM | Permalink

thoughts…

too many thoughts…

an insomniac night that breeds the lessons of the past to direct the future.

for years the ideas have been brewing in my head, driven by wonder, by curiousity, by a bug i can’t quite explain. for years the thoughts of future have been distant shadows of ideas, touches of dreams, hints of a reality not quite so. no more.

time is treading by, society trying to teach ideas of stability, of settlement, and i’ve tried to listen, but it doesn’t work for me. the bug of wanderlust just gets in the way, fills me to the brim, and leaves me drunk on a search for joy and contentment.

in the last few months i’ve found the courage to wage a different route from what i’ve known, to quit living vicariously and to clear my own path. two seasonal jobs down (well, one down, one in progress) and already i’m hooked. the dreams of the future are lifting from the shadows, reality is growing stronger and the paths to where i’d like to be are gaining strength.

thoughts of alaska, the northwest united states, south america, china, africa, new zealand, and the jobs that lead me to these locations - all of these thoughts are gaining footholds. too many ideas that leave me smiling, too many ideas i can’t turn down, and too many people here doing the same thing and finding fulfillment.

home will not be a location, but the web of family and friendships that i’ve been forming for years. home will not be one place but the connection of many through strings of thought, ideas, goals, and explorations both external and internal.

something has been brewing in the last couple of years, and i’m finally gaining a more clear picture.

i’m learning where i might be going, and, in doing so, not worrying about it so much. learning where i’m going and remembering to stay around in the present - learning to hold on to the current place and let it fuel powerful memories, emotions, and stories.

i’m learning, always learning.

Posted by noblehobo at 3:46 PM | Permalink

multiple flight delays followed by a cancellation dictate that i'll be at mcmurdo base for another day. in exchange for a day of limbo i was able to climb to the top of observation hill and see the entirety of the base. to our north sat mt. erebus - 12,000 ft of steaming volcano.

the skies are clear here, the cancellations due either to weather at the pole or dangers related to the geomagnetic fluctuations caused by a recent solar flare.

from what i understand this flare is the third most powerful ever recorded and should rival the one that knocked out the eastern canadian power grid in 1989. the coronal ejection began hitting the earth shortly after its occurance, but the majority of the particles should hit at 12-2 am central standard time. the northern lights in minnesota should be spectacular. the sun prevents me from seeing aurora here, but those of you back home should have no problem. enjoy the show tonight!

Posted by noblehobo at 1:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

i honestly can’t remember any election that i have lived through where there wasn’t some accusation of fraud, flawed redistricting, miscounts, etc. i would love to imagine that technology is the answer to the possibility of corruption in our electoral system. unfortunately i’ve played with computers for far to long to trust them as ‘perfect’ tools.

this article only serves to reinforce my mistrust.

i’m all for the old fasioned paper trail when it comes to elections, if only because i get a little paranoid now and again.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:17 PM | Permalink

it’s funny what it takes to bring reality crashing about, to take an errant mind out wandering and to plunk it back into the day to day existence.

last night i was harboring insomnia, playing the what-if game creating infinite possibility for the future, stuck there as i often am. tonight i sit morose, stuck in the past, trying to hold on to tangled memory as the physical space that it once inhabited sits dark and vacant. the norshor, musical/theatrical/literary/film venue that it was, has closed.

i loathe change. i spend my life surrounded by it, track down jobs that require it on a frequent basis, never settle in one spot, but i loathe it - particularly when it is in my past, in my comfort, my memory, my home.

for six years of my life the duluth became home, the only place that has called contentment to my heart on a regular basis. crawling over a hill on a freeway to be greeted by the antennae farm blinking away, peering at the sun-drenched lake through squinted eyes, being blasted sober by the first november winds leaving halloween at the norshor… few of many, many memories, all tied to a place, all subject to the whims of change.

i exist in change, i am change, but my memory is rooted deep - it does not move with the storm - it stands tall and has pieces ripped away. physical reminders are my necessity, my handicap, and change destroys them. pieces are falling tonight, and the comfort of knowing that home is home isn’t quite what it was a day ago.

Posted by noblehobo at 5:19 PM | Permalink