Twenty-five years ago my father, recently divorced, was alone, more or less broke, and living out of a rented garage in a bad part of town. When he would get home from his uninspiring job in a mediocre local cabinet shop, he would throw himself, and every spare dollar he had at the time, into an all-consuming passion project: building two exquisite wooden kayaks; one for me and one for my sister (although I now have nominal possession of both). He was at a low point in his life, without his children, and this was a creative outlet into which he could channel his simultaneous frustration and unbreakable spirit of creativity and craftsmanship. Over the years, these vessels have been the source of many happy memories and adventures. Just last week, as my wife and I found ourselves battling unexpectedly rough seas, those boats served us well in making our way back to safety. A three-sixteenths-of-an-inch layer of wood, shaped and set in place by my father two and a half decades ago, was all that separated each of us from a thrilling challenge and an extremely bad, possibly tragic outcome. When work is executed with excellence and craftsmanship, the long term possibilities are impossible to predict.

"Technology is so much our slave that it would seem churlish to notice that it is also our master." -Matthew Crawford, 2009

Cold, metallic door Swings on his rusty hinges Letting in, and out.

New article dropped, exploring risk and taking responsibility for one's own life, from my own unique vantage point. "Though many lack the words to describe it, the modern consumer existence, free of danger, stripped of its highest highs and lowest lows, is abhorent to the free spirit and intrepidness that characterizes this marvellous species that we are so priveleged to be members of."

Apologies to anyone following me, but you're about to get spammed with a bunch of reposts of old content. In an effort to treat my writing more seriously, I will now be using YakiHonne client to publish my longer, more serious pieces as proper articles, rather than just as standard notes which I have been doing so far. This will allow them to stand separate from any shorter, less serious content that I may choose to post, and keep them from getting buried, as I also use Nostr for more standard social media purposes. I have tried to do this at a time when, statistically, the most people are likely to be asleep, so as not to cause undue disturbance. Thank you for your patience.

The Arbutus menziesii (commonly just called arbutus or madrone) is a tree of considerable beauty. Often found in dry, rocky areas exposed to the sea, it thrives where most other trees would perish from malnourishment, drought, and exposure to salt. It is a tough little bastard. The twisted and crooked nature of its wood, however, make it unsuitable as lumber, and it has only limited use as veneer and, occasionally, firewood. Thus, between the difficult terrain it inhabits and its general unsuitability for human ends, it is not a target for loggers, and enjoys a relatively unmolested existence in the pacific northwest. It has neither the fame, nor the ever-present peril, of its grander neighbors; the douglas fir, for example. I feel a community of spirit with this tree.

It was a stressful day but we got it in there. In a couple months this baby will be slurping 25kV and spitting out 600/347 & 208/120 (dual voltage secondary, very cool). I love this shit.