Dick Proenneke started his adventure to Alaska by driving his camper north. In a Nebraska town he bought a felt-tipped marker and on the back of his camper printed in big letters, "DESTINATION--BACK AND BEYOND." Cars would pass with a smile, a wave, or a wistful look that said more than words. On May 21, 1968, Proenneke arrived at his new place of retirement at Twin Lakes. Before arriving at the lakes, he made arrangements to use a cabin on the upper lake of Twin Lakes owned by a retired Navy captain Spike Carrithers and his wife Hope from Kodiak, (in whose care he had left his camper). This cabin was well situated on the lake and close to the site where Proenneke chose for the construction of his own cabin.

Proenneke spent May, June, and July of 1968 building his cabin by hand and with nothing but hand tools. The cabin was complete with windows, one of which was designed and built of mylar by Proenneke himself to face the lake and not fog up. He also built furniture including chairs, tables, a desk, and a bunk; a log cache built up on poles to store food and goods that needed to be kept away from wildlife; a stone and mortar fireplace; and many decorations such as a plaster of paris wolf track and moose and caribou antler decorations.

Proenneke's friend and bush pilot, Babe Alsworth, returned occasionally to bring food and orders that Proenneke placed through him to Sears. While Proenneke lived largely off the land, he enjoyed things like red beans, bacon, and seasonings, all of which he proclaimed to be life's real luxuries.

Several times during his life at Twin Lakes, Proenneke was attacked by brown bears. He also became quite adept at taming animals, befriending a squirrel, a weasel, many birds, and (almost) a wolverine.

Proenneke remained at Twin Lakes for the next 16 months, when he left to go home for a spell to visit relatives and secure more supplies. He returned to the lakes in the following spring, and remained there for most of the next 30 years, coming to the lower 48 only occasionally to be with his family, for whom he cared a great deal.

from wikipedia.org

Shooting casts pall over VMA's Or The most worthless news story involving pop culture and the idiocy of giant corporate networks

Please disregard whatever is in the article found on the google news page this morning off to the right in a seemingly inconspicuous position. A knock on the door this morning from Mark awoke in me a peculiar fascination in this news story and when I saw this I seemingly lost it at the stupidity and uselessness of this particular quote, which I will highlight inside a quote box and hopefully embolden.

“As with all of our events, MTV has a zero tolerance policy in regards to weapons and we take appropriate security precautions to ensure the safety of our guests,” the network said in a statement.

The absurdity of this statement is just that--utterly absurd. This is a prime example of giant corporate mindsets. In no way does this effect anything. The world gives two sighs and a slight perspiration of the brow when a matter of pop celebrity occurs in, of all places, MIAMI! Is this not the home to Scarface? Is it not where people hover about in city streets and beaches in 100 degree weather with the humidity reaching an insane level between the natural rain and natural perspiration of the earth in such searing heat. But back to the idea that MTV has to issue a statement saying they do not encourage weapons and violence. Can they not come up with anything sounding sincere and not completely generic as if it was sent through ten different people for verification before becoming so watered down that it is a mockery to even say. Is this what people learn in public relations courses, to sound so generic that people will take your insensitive words and just forget all about it? Maybe I've been reading too much football news from the Guardian. Seriously, I'm done with this MTV bull-ish. If you want an interesting read from a journalistic perspective, read the Guardian's football news. They way British people talk about football is amazing, with such entertaining language and criticism. I think I am addicted to it. See if you can understand it. To me it makes "soccer" sound like cricket or rubgy. I'm glad I ended on a jovial note.

Nikolai Gumilyov was outraged by the thought that his passionate romantic correspondence might in fact have been with a mocking Maximilian Voloshin (however, Dmitrieva claimed that all the letters to Gumilev were written by her, and that she had indeed been in love, but had recognized the romance would end the moment Gumilyov saw her).

On November 19, 1909, in the studio of artist Ivan Bilibin, Gumilev slapped Voloshin across the face, which by the customs of the time made a duel inevitable. The duel took place on November 22 on the banks of Chernaya river, the site of the fatal duel between Alexander Pushkin and Georges d'Anthès). Voloshin's second was Aleksei Nikolaevich Tolstoi, Gumilev's second was Ioganess von Gunter.

The peace-loving Voloshin did not want to kill Gumilev, and wanted even less to be killed himself, so he planned a psychological diversion to defuse the situation. While walking to the place of the duel he lost one of his pair of galoshes in the mud, and claimed that he could not shoot until the missing boot was found. Both seconds started to look for it, and within half an hour Gumilev joined the search. When eventually the boot was found, the duel had become psychologically impossible, and both participants agreed on a truce. Gumilev was still angry with Voloshin and broke all contacts with him, until suddenly in 1921 (a few months before his death) he visited Voloshin and restored their friendship.

from wikipedia.org

When I took this picture I thought the world was collapsing, like it normally does on a night like this. Then I realized it will always bounce back. It might not make the sound, but we all know the gentle giant sleeps...well, gently. The earth shifts beneath our feet. He turns over when lying in the grass to view his mother. He smokes a cigarette, pretending to purse his lips together to see if he can move around without the cigarette falling. At dinner he walks out of his earthen jar and sits at a table made of mountains to feast on the trees and snowcaps quench his thirst. It is too bad he cannot be more rambunctious with his time. I admire his strict regiment and healthy diet. I do not admire his constant love for timed destruction and untimely death. But these come so few and far between that I cannot have anything but the deepest, utmost respect and love for him. Why, the latter barely comes but once and if done well, with respect and honor, we would not even feel it because of the extraordinary moment when sky hits ground and we all fall down. A child's game prefaces the smoke of all horrors with such innocence and freedom. I have to admire that. If he can do that then I do not see why we should ever question the ground we walk on. I think he has a solid ground beneath our feet where rocks and dirt extend from his skin to create a cushion for us. If I were to lie down at this moment I wonder if my positioning would be the exact same, aligned joint for joint. Even the rock in my back, as I wait 'til it intrudes so far it no longer hurts, is similar to the rock in his back as he lays on top of the mountains staring at the stars. Is he blocking my view? Is that why the glints are barely visible. I know his width is mighty, but at times I think he is sleeping on his side no longer caring about the same things I am. I am not sad. We are all enjoying the show. My smile reveals barely yellowed teeth, probably from years of soda pop and sugary candy. His from millennia of rotten animals and vegetation as well as the natural aging of his own body that shows when he opens his mouth to greet me and whisper good night.

I've learned that I can steal internet if I'm out on my porch. Productivity will now certainly increase threefold. I'm sharing this secret with you, the grasshoppers, and the cicadas. There might be some birds, too. There's one noise contributing to this nature soundtrack that I can't quite decipher. I appreciate that the bugs' symphony just barely drowns out the central air unit running next to me.

I can hear "the final countdown" playing from inside. That can only mean one thing. I will try and talk Sawby into getting me some free drinks.


EDIT: So that theft [the porch one] wasn't as successful as I'd thought. Here I am, though, back in action and talking to myself. I pretty much am all the time. It is a long interview. Soon to be published.

This is aesthetically pleasing. And it makes me tap my foot.

This week is flying by and I am making many trips from my car doors to apartment building doors. Things are coming together, though. I have been sleeping in Delaware for the past few nights but think I will rough it in St. Davids from now on, even if it is on a recently acquired futon. Old flames are good for something.

Make Believe had to cancel their upcoming tour with Aloha. That is a bummer, but broken wrists won't be healed by pouting faces. Apparently hellfest was just cancelled too at the last minute because of problems with the venue in New Jeruse. Luckily for the black t-shirt crowd it looks like there's quite an effort going on to get most of the bands on other shows this weekend in the area. I only care because I was listening to Lifetime this morning.

Now I need to find a wrench. ?? ????????! (that is me trying to spell 'goodbye' in Russian. I tried, I really did, Churgin.)

Its almost passe to write long ongoing sentences on here. I like to use the phrase "old hat" because it reminds me of my dad and his use of those old fatherly type floppy British hats. Bill would know the name. He would also know the hilarious word he uses for hats like the one I speak of. (Hint: It starts with an "f")

Last night I saw the Spinto Band in Los Angeles, CA. I chatted with Nick and Jon for a little while then we bounced. (we = mark, al, jaime, and myself) I had to get up early and deal with some nagging graduation problems, which finally were fixed this afternoon in a way invoking the simplest process possible. Most of this work was for nothing. I should have just linked up the two schools together to work out my problem. Apparently that is all it took, just give one person the email address or a way of contacting the other person and vice versa; all set.

Tomorrow nights Too Late with Adam Carolla show is funny, probably the first one that I really laughed at all the way through. Anthony Anderson is the guest and, well, what can I say, I have actually seen Kangaroo Jack at least half a dozen times. So there. That's all you need to know. Oh wait, not yet, one time I watched part of it with Chris Miller. Now how engaging does CP have to be to watch Kangaroo Jack? Ask yourself that question. Matt, Adam, and Bill know what I am talking about. But all due respect, I am excited for Chris moving to Chicago. I think he will really enjoy Chicago a lot, I know I do. He will appreciate its spaciousness for a city. I imagine many times you will find him sitting on the beach on Lake Michigan shouting at the waves and the windy politicans.

Moving along on the same tangent: I hope Matt's summer has gone well. He should be moving into the big city with Adam in less than a month now! He will have fun with Tim and Adam. In one way I am sad that I am not living in New York. I think when it boils down to it, I am an east coast person rather than a west coast person. Plus, Lauren is on the east coast. But I couldn't do it with the time frame I was given. The west coast move appeared to be the smarter choice for right now. But it would have been fun going to the Anthology Film Archives with Adam.

Well, it is time to leave work. Check out the time on the east coast. Bummer.

Sweet dreams loved ones.

http://www.splendidmagazine.com/features/spinto/

Hooray for shout out-age!

Who dat, who dat, who dat, who dat?

I am assigning cases left and right (but not center), and I hope to get out of here in a few hours. I'll take a half Friday inside of a casual one any day. Plus, there's laundry to be done and a face to see.

The new Sigur Ros leaked yesterday. And I am in constant cream-mode.

I saw Stampy on the way to work today.

Shhhhh!!!! Shoosh! I am still at work. I was thinking about finding some logos or photo stills or something and pulling a Bill Martin by posting them on the site, but I imagine that would be a breech of contract and I do not think the Post PA is authorized to use the Comedy Central logo or the snazzy Too Late with Adam Carolla logo. The logo was created by Criag Tollifson who is Imperial Design or Graphics or something Imperial. Seriously, the dude does it from his house. How do I know? I have been to his house three times in the past two days to pick up graphics from him and everytime I go to his door he comes immediately when I knock as if he knows I am there. He doesn't look much older than my 29 year old cousin and I doubt he is that old. Yet, he lives in a nice house and there is a Mercedez in his driveway. I do not want to speculate, but how does someone work with a major cable network doing their graphics before the age of 30. How can Alberto Abril hop on something like that. I want Al to find a good job, something he likes. I really hope this 3D graphics master's program (or whatever title he will receive) gets him an excellent job. I think he is talented and I don't think I am the only one. He's a smart guy. I wouldn't be friends with him if he wasn't. So there. What have we learned tonight? Carson Daly entered or almost entered a school for priests and Al Abril is a clever cat.

(The Carson Daly thing???? He was the guest tonight on the test show. Word! Knowledge is key. I learned that from Bill back in the day. Frame & Canvas)