Drifting

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Fascist propaganda in our neighborhood here in Phoenix, Arizona

I live in America, where we love us some good hate. Liberty for those who are like us is what we want, and death would be a fitting end for those who offend our pure sense of an archaic aesthetic. It’s tragic how this works for every racial/ethnic group on Earth in some way. Everyone is different and not like us unless they belong to our cult. There’s almost a hint of comedy in these groups that speak of great individualism and true freedom while practicing conformity that has no room for freedom outside of strict guidelines.

Humanism is my brand of wackiness where, delusionally, I have this half-baked idea that we are better off embracing one another, sharing knowledge, and enriching each other’s lives. Of course, I could be naive, and the conveniences of modern life could be had by enslaving minions who have no other options, but what do I know, as I’m not a white supremacist? Why is this even here on my blog today? Because Caroline found this sticker on a lamppost in our neighborhood while we were out walking in the morning.

No guns, no virus at the Social Security Office for Child Care in Phoenix, Arizona

Normally, we just walk around the block, and I tend to avoid the businesses and offices along our route as they hold nothing that appeals to me. Yes, the shops in our area are mostly worthless to us. For example, we have a local Department of Economic Security office that is a near-constant shitshow. I know this sounds harsh, but prior to the COVID shutdown, if I were to drive by (because in those times, I’d never walk along this particular stretch of road), the people who would loiter and cavort in the parking lot were not of my social group. (Hmmm, this sounds nearly as dismissive as the right-wingers I was just writing about in the paragraph above.)

So my bias and contradictory bullshit obviously put me in some kind of elitist position in which I think people of lesser means are below me – though that’s not right as I certainly believe everyone needs some help from time to time – but back to the shitshow comment before I explain the photo. My reference is about the fact that on any given day (prior to COVID), there was an obvious modus operandi at work at this facility where meth, alcohol, lack of birth control, poor education, and poor choices all around are part of the DNA of many of the applicants. True, there are always extenuating circumstances due to abuse, violence, brain damage, fetal alcohol poisoning, and various other traumas that might be influencing things, but that doesn’t excuse our society from putting people through even more bullshit by forcing them to congregate at the Church of Begging for Assistance or CBA.

This has gone way off track and is indicative of me drifting from one thing to another with little to connect the disparate elements of my wandering. Back to the photo: On the other side of the CBA is the Child Care Administration. I didn’t know this prior to walking up to check out all the signage. That’s when I was struck that between the signs about social distancing and not coming in if the visitor or their child has any symptoms of illness or respiratory distress was the sign informing visitors that guns are not allowed.

Here, you are visiting a place to request help for your children, but maybe you are packing a weapon just in case you have to leave empty-handed. You know what you came for, and you ain’t leaving without it, so you brought a loaded weapon in the off chance you have to waste the scum asshole at the desk who could deny you cash right in front of your child. The plan was to pull out the .45 and shove a bullet in their head in order to maintain self-respect and teach your child who’s the boss, except that’s not allowed here, and there’s a sign that enforces this rule.

A bee collecting pollen from a cactus flower in Phoenix, Arizona

If it wasn’t for the bees, flowers, clouds, cacti, trees, sky, stars, birds, lizards, and even the pesky flies, I’d be overwhelmed by our lack of compassion, common sense, intelligence, and passion to better ourselves. The bee is bettering the hive by selflessly taking many trips to random flowers and then tediously flying up to the uncaring stamen to collect some, not all, of the pollen. Packed onto her hind legs, the corbiculae are delivered back to her mates, where the feast ensues. At the hive, she will allow the other bees to suck the nectar she drank along its journey from her stomach, draining water and adding enzymes until only honey remains. This cooperative existence of sharing abundance works for an insect with a brain 20,000 times smaller than ours and is a testament to just how stupid we humans are.

Hidden in the Shadows

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Shadows of Caroline Wise and John Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

We no longer live out on the stage of what was a normal life; we are not on vacation in some iconic location; we are not on our way anywhere familiar. We are instead existing at home, living in our minds, traveling beyond the shadows of who we were. On the other side of those former persons that were us, of the people who saw the world through the eyes of “things are the way they are,” are different people who cannot take for granted that those “things” will stay the way they were. The waves of the ocean no longer crash upon the shore we knew but, instead, roll in towards senses hungry to feast on such rarities momentarily forbidden.

Of course, it’s always been this way, but we didn’t want the brevity of our experiences and time on Earth to stand in front of our consciousness, flailing the arms of certain death that this is all temporary. We trick ourselves and reassure our inner dialog that we can do this or that tomorrow, next week, next year, or simply, someday. We remain largely unaware that as the day passes, the shadow of our life expectancy grows shorter. Early in the morning, our shadows stretch far, and likewise, early in our lives, the horizon is difficult to see, while comprehending it may forever elude some. What are we supposed to do with an infinite horizon where time has no meaning?

Disappearing from our normal lives in this state of self-isolation, threatened by the hostility of an invisible stalker called COVID-19, should awaken those who cannot see beyond their noses. Fear of the unknown and desire for the familiar have them waiting for a return to their routines. This has not become the opportunity to find new regard for the transient nature of life and the ephemeral, fleeting impressions brought to their senses by novelty. It is the control mechanism of the oppressor. It is the abusive father, the demanding teacher, the tyrant found in one’s boss. This though is a myopic view of the person who never learned of their own agency. They have mastered the role of the victim and have grown comfortable hiding in the margin of life, not emerging from fear.

Granted, there are those who are in dire need of counseling, continuing education, or financial assistance who simply must do what it takes in order to survive, but that, too, is a consequence of living in the moment of not understanding what’s ahead. The inability to have been prepared for life is the same as walking towards the cliff and hoping that the hand of God will be there to catch you before you fall into the void. If we can understand the folly of such a stupid act, how do we blind ourselves to the need to have life safety nets? The answer is relatively easy, even if assumptive: nobody really cares about those around them. In that sense, we are not holding one another’s hands and helping each other along.

Masked John Wise and Caroline Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

Too many live behind masks even when they are not wearing ones of a physical nature. When I go shopping, I see many men obviously not comfortable wearing a surgical mask, and yet the masks they are wearing, as a consequence, speak more about them and their selfishness than simply being out shopping can portray. How well do these people really know themselves if they cannot empathize with those who are looking to live? Am I suggesting that those without masks are likely narcissistic, angry assholes? Yes.

The funny thing about my gross characterization is that I’ve often been called a narcissistic asshole myself because of my determination to get what I want. I don’t try to get things in life at the expense of others (though there are those who would call bullshit on that); then again, they want someone who will do for them what they fail to inspire themselves to do, so there’s that. Their masks are the ones of having lived under a shadow of isolation where love was something found in movies for women or was experienced as a good fuck, but still, their lives remained empty.

I’m taking inventory of things I might be taking for granted, though I thought I was fully appreciative of all that I stumbled upon. For example, Caroline and I were always pinching ourselves at our good fortune of being able to travel so much that we had the means. Maybe I didn’t quite understand how lucky I was to have eyes, ears, and other senses that are able to be present at places of beauty, historic importance, or some other element of grandeur. I knew that I had the characteristics of a person who wanted to explore, but I thought those were common. I’ve assumed that others, if they had the financial capability, would indulge themselves in a lifelong ambition to seek out knowledge and experience, but COVID-19 is showing me, or maybe to some degree reinforcing, the idea that those who want to remain in old habits have no interest in what the unknown has to offer.

It’s easy to know that Caroline and I on a desert island would need 60 rolls of toilet paper per year or that we eat about 200 pounds of onions between us over those same 365 days, so we can now plan accordingly before we’re shipwrecked. Yes, this has been gleaned over the past 44 days of self-isolation. As a matter of fact, seeing how COVID-19 might return later this year, this knowledge may prove helpful during the fall and winter. What’s not easy to know is how we are changing after hearing so many birds in our neighborhood or seeing so many lizards growing fat as the days grow warm. We could not have known how generous we’d feel to help others during this crisis or how mistrustful of those who are not aware of the space they are in. There’s almost no food waste in our lives right now and we are happy to be frequently making our own cereal and bread. We are happy to explore our hobbies and wish there was even more time in the day to explore the interests that feed our minds.

Once we are able again to venture out to other places we’ll be in our car and heading somewhere, likely to the Oregon coast. This next trip, though will be aware of what part of us we have to leave behind and of that part of us in self-isolation that was dormant as our new routines had us stuck in our immediate environment. I hope our senses will be flush with the symbiotic and profound awareness of awe that our real freedom is always there and is ever-present so long as we maintain intellectual forward motion. Our happiness seems premised on the idea that we can neither live in the shadows of hope nor behind the mask of fear and uncertainty. We cannot trade one form of self-isolation for the illusion of freedom found in another flavor of self-isolation. We must go forward and deeper within every day.

#STREAMPUNKS

JWise Moments

Colin Benders at the synth During Modular Lockdown

We are watching the Indie live music industry change with an emergent streaming movement that is happening by necessity because the club and concert hall have temporarily disappeared.  People’s need for grouping around artists is still a large part of the context of our culture, but the venues that support these activities are closed. There is no certainty as to when public gatherings might take place again, so in the wake of our global shutdown; there are those who are going live on the internet.

In some way, I see this as the Westernization of the Japanese idea of the otaku. This type of person was seen as being obsessed with particular aspects of popular culture to the detriment of their social skills. Right now, our social skills are on hold as we become accustomed to being at home. For the majority of the global population, being ripped out of the social fabric that was our day-to-day existence was obviously not something cultivated over the early years of our life, as might occur to the young Japanese person who gradually becomes an otaku.

In an instant, though, we were rendered homebound. While students took to Zoom for group conferencing with their teachers and fellow students and companies also started meeting more frequently on everything from Zoom to Skype, Teams, and WebEx, there was something afoot in the music world that is largely unknown to the masses right now.

Colin Benders Patching His Synth During Modular Lockdown

We are starting to see the emergence of the #STREAMPUNKS. The term, as far as I can find, was first used in a forum back in January 2008 before being co-opted by an executive for YouTube for his 2017 book titled Streampunks: YouTube and the Rebels Remaking Media. While Robert Kyncl and his co-author Maany Peyvan used the term to mean those in the content creation business on YouTube, today it is again being redefined as “Those who move en masse between content streams.”

Back on March 18, 2020, almost two years to the day after he paused his live streams, Colin Benders, a synthesist from Utrecht, Netherlands, started broadcasting again. There was obvious pent-up demand to see him play on his extraordinary electronic instrument. I say instrument as Colin is approaching mastery over his Eurorack synthesizer, which is a beast of complexity.

During the first week, we watched Colin sitting on his floor in a small room in his home with a few sections of his modular rig he brought from his studio. Even his small sample of modules represented a large system for most other people. Specifically, he was working on 1,264hp. Squatting in front of it and patching it on the fly, he was making some banging techno for a few hours and mixing things up as he went along.

Discord from Colin Benders During Modular Lockdown

On the second day of his return to streaming, with a commitment to do this “every day” that he’s in lockdown (hence the stream name “Modular Lockdown”), he started up a Discord channel. While I was one of the first half-dozen people to sign up it wasn’t but a week or two before a couple of thousand people joined the channel. The buzz around Colin was becoming a swarm.

Part of this might have had something to do with the fact that Colin was promising never to charge any of us for the music he was streaming, but, more importantly, that it was his intention to give it all away to others to work on remixes and derivative works. Things were getting complicated fast as Colin wasn’t set up quite correctly yet, and the infrastructure was about to buckle.

By Day 8, Colin was standing at a wobbly primitive desk, and so began the community effort of donating money through YouTube Super Chat for Colin to buy a proper Ikea desk. He had by this time also collected a couple of other things including a mixing desk that would let him properly record 16 tracks of audio, thus producing what is known as STEMS. A STEM is typically the stereo master track and the individual grouped components such as the bassline, lead, drums, and harmony.

These STEMS were going to be put on Dropbox for collaborators to download, but within about 48 hours, his bandwidth allocation was maxed, and a new solution had to be found. His users on Discord organized the infrastructure by seeding Torrents around the world so the gigabytes of data could start being shared again.

Streampunks in Chat on Colin Benders Modular Lockdown

The foundation of a large group of people working independently through a faceless interface in the background of an artist, with everyone volunteering their efforts, was taking root and moving at a breakneck speed. Some of us who’d been on the stream from day one and even some of us who were watching him back during his “Modular Mayhem” days of 2016 to 2018 were recognizing one another. One of those users, named Datalek, dropped the word STREAMPUNKS on YouTube in live chat to describe the gang that was jumping from Colin’s stream to other artists’ streams. From that moment forward, the group of people who started on Colin’s stream would start dropping #STREAMPUNKS into the live chat of the person we were switching to.

Fast forward to Day 20, and Colin brings in his prized MacBeths along with more gear. The “MacBeths” I refer to are some of the best-sounding oscillators there are but which are also considered “Unobtainium.” There were now 2,344hp of modules stuffed into this small side room with a 16-channel mixing desk on the floor to Colin’s right. The mini-side room studio was growing, and so was the audience. Discord ballooned to over 2,500 people, and others such as Hainbach, DivKidBen, and Chris Meyer at Learning Modular were appearing more often in live streams. Streampunks were starting to be recognized by others in the community.

So how and why is this becoming a thing worth dedicating this blog entry to? Live music experienced in person, for the time being, is a thing of the past. To have an artist who is interacting with his/her global audience on a very personal level on a daily basis is something new. While certainly not the first musician to interactively stream to fans, as DeadMau5 was already on Twitch back in 2014 building his community, there is a big difference in approaches.

Patch Notes from Colin Benders during Modular Lockdown

Colin is engaging with his audience on multiple levels redefining how the relationship between artist and community functions. He’s actively sharing his skills and explaining his techniques to such a level that I’ve been able to document in a Google Doc on Discord under the #ACADEMY heading a number of patches and the thoughts behind his methods. Not only is this freely posted for others to learn from but the document is meant as part of a collaboration space. While many are followers, there is an active number of enthusiasts who are also musicians trying to learn more about the difficult task of patching voltages and signals across disparate modules that can be mind-numbingly problematic.

As for the vibrant audience that has formed, we are recognizing each other and forming friendships via chats that are occurring simultaneously as Colin is performing. It’s in some way reminiscent of Andy Warhol’s Factory days when artists such as David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Salvador Dali, and Lou Reed would be part of a New York City “Scene.” Today, the scene is being played out in live moments that stretch around the globe. While few might know the likes of Datalek, Alphastare, PifPaf пиф паф, Omri Cohen, or Knobs&Strings, there is a vibe that suggests we are in one of those epochs that could be a turning point within one small corner of culture that is going to have larger implications for society at large.

Colin Benders on Day 20 as the Synth Grows During Modular Lockdown

Back on Day 20, while deconstructing Colin’s performances and being captivated by the music that rose out of nothing, I wrote: I can’t help but feel I’ve been watching a modern-day Richard Wagner compose in real-time the electronic version of Ride of the Valkyries where aural paintbrushes are harnessed with patch cables to splash love onto the canvas of emotion.

Morning Walk

JWise Photo of the Day

Barrier Free Nature Trail in Phoenix, Arizona

We no longer miss a single day of going out for a walk. We still wake at about the same time, but without the confrontation of having to deal with rush hour traffic, it feels like the start of the day is more relaxed and need not be so hectic. I’ve written of our mile loop around our neighborhood a couple of other times and I’ve written about this walk too when I was penning a short story titled, I Am The Toad almost exactly a year ago. Today we are again at the Barrier-Free Nature Trail at the Reach 11 Area. Strange name I know but that’s what it is.

Barrier Free Nature Trail in Phoenix, Arizona

The pond was mostly quiet just after sunrise with only a couple of croaks also know as ribbits over at the tree line. The memory of hundreds of frogs singing to us though could easily be heard. The funny thing about this pleasant walk into a xeroriparian area which is also referred to as a dry wetland is that the change in temperature from the streetside parking lot to the pond is significant. Even on the rare summer days that we walk out here, the main wooded area is much cooler than the open desert. This, of course, has us wondering if all of Phoenix was at one time cooler before the thousands of miles of asphalt, endless cinderblock walls, and concrete was strewn in all directions?

Barrier Free Nature Trail in Phoenix, Arizona

It’s sometimes strange out here, feeling like we’ve been transported out of the desert and into a savannah where at any moment a large cat lying in wait is around the corner, ready to pounce. Instead, we only see traces of man and his dog. We’ll return in about a week to see how the environment changes as summer is soon to approach and we’re also hoping the population of frogs explodes so we can once again delight in their song.

Self-Awakening Day 31

JWise Photo of the Day

Desert Early Evening in Phoenix, Arizona

Wow, I’m already starting to miss self-isolation. No, it’s not over yet but the writing is appearing on the wall that things are about to change again. As we appear to be able to manage the spread of infection and more importantly the signs that deaths are likely about to drop, there will be a push for everyone to go back to work. Of course, there will be caveats with social distancing, masks, aggressive reminders to wash hands and some services remaining limited but we are heading for the isolation exit.

Why would I miss it? For 30 days I’ve looked at the sky in amazement to see it in ways nobody has seen in over 100 years. I can smell the plants on our walks, even when we’ve not had rain that might kick up the old petrichor. I live near an intersection that is never quiet, even on Christmas, but over the past weeks, there have been absolutely silent moments. Caroline and I have eaten more home-cooked meals in a month than we have in the previous nearly 30 years and with that, we’ve likely eaten a lot healthier too. We’ve not likely saved much money as we’ve both been a bit indulgent about online shopping, though neither of us has gone off some kind of deep end. After a month we are as in love as ever with no more friction than at any other time. What we do look forward to when travel limitations are gone is that we can speed up to the Oregon Coast to take in what California and Oregon look like under pristine skies.

Desert Morning in Phoenix, Arizona

Our circadian rhythms haven’t budged and by-and-large we are still waking at around 5:00 in the morning. While basking in the beauty of the pristine mornings we have day after day there is a sense of dread as our walk takes us along a couple of larger streets: at some point, the traffic will return. Sadly, I don’t think the momentum of the industrial revolution will be swept aside as quickly as I’d like to see. Give me electric vehicles of all sorts with special consideration for those who want to use smaller personal size transportation instead of 2-ton gas spewing hunks of steel. Even with our reduced traffic flow neither Caroline nor I feel safe about crossing at our intersection as the people careening through it don’t have a habit of looking for pedestrians as we are a rare breed in the desert where everyone insists that a car is a mandatory asset to live a good life, but then they don’t take the time to see what we see.

Self-Isolation Days 18-27

JWise Thoughts, Travels

Quarantine

— I only shop wearing a mask and frantically wipe everything down, my cart and the self-checkout equipment, with one of my own wet wipes I carry into the store. I’m looking at everybody cautiously for who might move towards me, so I’m already moving away from them before they see me. I listen with a finely tuned ear for anything that sounds like a cough, sneeze, or even congestion. Why isn’t everybody wearing masks? We are crippled by our own stupidity to do what’s right, trying to halt this freight train of catastrophe. Everything we manage to ultimately do on the public stage takes too much time to make the right decisions, and then we only go halfway to getting to an objective. Our vanity knows no bounds.

— In German, it’s called “Stosslueften” and is translated to “Shock Ventilation.” After watching a Japanese documentary about COVID-19 and the possibility that microparticles can remain in a room and distribute virus molecules to people who are present, the program recommended creating a draft in the room that would exchange fresh air. Stosslueften, also spelled Stoßlüftung, is one of those things in Germany that mothers tell their children is healthy for them as they fling open the windows on a winter day. It turns out that this is true, which makes me wonder how we’ll change the dynamic of sealed buildings where adults have to work and classrooms where children study.

— Washing dishes is a strange everyday chore that is now happening twice a day. Washing our hands so frequently in the kitchen after we come in has allowed the hot water to flow more frequently and so I grab the opportunity to fill a large bowl of hot soapy water and deal with the dishes before they stack up. Why not run them in the dishwasher? That stupid thing runs about an hour and feels like it uses 50 or more gallons of water. By hand washing our dishes, I think I might use 3-5 gallons of water at most, and as they drain in the sink to the left, Caroline will come over and finish drying them before putting them away. For those few minutes, we are doing something cooperative, and it gives us yet another opportunity to smile at each other in appreciation for the help offered. Regarding the dishwasher, I don’t think we’ve used one in over five years, probably longer.

— Here we are on the second day of April. I’m watching Arizona’s Governor Doug Ducey speaking to our state about his response to dealing with COVID-19, and what I heard was an indecisive man pandering to an electorate with a subpar level of education with pat answers that demonstrated zero insight on how to act on the public’s behalf. Relying on the CDC, which appears beholden to a president more concerned with control and self-image rather than individual lives, is the recipe to radically alter the fabric of the political glue that has worked for over 200 years here in the United States. While we cannot change our course in real-time and must rely on the leadership, as it is, for the foreseeable future, their failure will either be a catalyst for change or the capstone leading us to our demise.

— Couldn’t find yeast online, sold out everywhere. A local Walmart showed they had stock, but upon my arrival, there was none, and the guy trying to stock the section said he’d not seen any for a while. A visit to Albertsons didn’t produce results, nor did a stop at Safeway. On my way down the street, I was passing a Smart & Final and thought, why not? They had two 2-pound packages, and while that’s about 32 times more than we wanted, it was better than nothing. So, in addition to our shortages of toilet paper, sanitizing wipes, face masks, and other assorted goods, flour and yeast for making bread at home are in short supply. Is this pandemic seriously turning people into bread crafters?

— Regarding face masks and social distancing, supposedly, there are people in government who fear that if the general public is given instructions to start wearing masks, they’ll somehow give up their vigilance on maintaining safe distances between people. While I visited a number of stores today and felt better by wearing a mask, I had no interest in being near anybody as I trust no one to be mindful.

— Caroline brought up the idea of taking a drive this weekend as she’s not been away from our block for two weeks now, and it is a beautiful spring going on here right now in the desert of Arizona. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, as there are plenty of other people out and about driving to do whatever it is they have to do, but I’m a bit reluctant due to a big brother effect going on right now. Google is turning over the metadata about how people are adhering to the “Stay at home” recommendations. So, if we leave our phones at home, it’ll appear that we are where we’ve been for weeks now, but if I take my phone so we can call the Mexican joint up in Globe I want to visit so we can get some to-go food, Big Brother will know what we’ve been up to. On one hand, our traveling supports business as we’ll use gasoline and we’ll be giving money to a restaurant that is remaining open. On the other hand, how necessary is it to drive over 200 miles roundtrip for some really great Mexican food?

— We have a quarantine area in our place where deliveries and groceries are placed for three days. The photo above is our quarantined goods, which include corona beans (seriously, that’s what they are, and we just had to have corona beans during CoronaVirus2020), a shirt, gelatine sheets, flour, yeast, Dr. Squatch Soap, a headband, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder recommended by Lex Fridman, sugar, and a bunch of yarn. I wait for my Kermit MK3 to return from Scott to join the quarantine area before rejoining my Eurorack setup, but I’m reluctant to pester the guy to finish repairs and post it back to me; I sure do miss it though.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Kearny, Arizona

— Another weekend is upon us, and as is the routine, we’re up before daybreak. Caroline wakes shortly after me, and before long, we’re leaving for the first walk of the day. The sun is just coming over the McDowell Mountains as we step out to another beautiful day. Today, I’m 1,095 days away from turning 60, and on this occasion of recognizing the day of my birth, I look back at the year that was and am happy about what I had the good fortune to share with my best friend, Caroline. Eleven months ago, I left for Europe early as I was dipping into Berlin to visit Superbooth and a couple of other places before meeting up with Caroline in Frankfurt and then heading into the Balkans for some whitewater rafting. We weren’t home long before the two of us drove down to Bisbee, Arizona, where Caroline was attending a spinning retreat, spinning as in making yarn. A week later, our niece came in for her first visit to Arizona. Over the three weeks she spent with us, we took her to various Native American areas in Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico, up to the Grand Canyon, horseback riding in Sedona, out to visit with the Salt River horses, and various museums and gardens so she could get a sense of the Desert Southwest. A quick trip for Caroline and me after Katharina returned to Germany took us to Los Angeles to visit with Itay, Rotem, and their new son Liam before I returned to Southern California on my own to dogwatch a friend’s pet in San Diego while he and his girlfriend went to Sweden for a dozen days. A stand-out concert took place in September as the sonic overlord’s Sunn O)))) pummeled us. A year without the obligatory visit to Oregon wouldn’t have been complete, so just before Thanksgiving, we once again found ourselves melting in the beauty of the Oregon Coast for nine full days. The New Year started up in Winslow, Arizona, as we finally got it together to spend a couple of days at La Posada. Barely two weeks later, we were waking up in Duncan, Arizona, near the New Mexico border, to go out and watch the sandhill cranes fly along the Gila River. Those were just some of the highlights of my 56th year on Earth.

Wildflowers near Superior, Arizona

— Speaking about my years, Caroline and I have been in love for 31 years or 11,249 days. This also equals 971,913,600 seconds or 16,198,560 minutes, which could also be seen as 1,607 weeks, but my favorite way to see the time we’ve shared together is in the measure of telling one another, “I love you.” I’m guessing that we share the words I love you at least ten times a day, sometimes 20, and maybe even 30 times on occasion. So, working from an average of saying I love you 20 times a day, Caroline has probably told me close to a quarter-million times or about 224,980 times, and I her, a similar number of times. I’ve not heard a song that often or maybe any sound or words as frequently as this utterance of I love you. Mind you, those sweet words were quite often accompanied by a kiss, hug, or combination of the two, so the embrace of love is now seared into my experiential box of treasures.

Caroline making handmade socks with yarn from Coos Bay, Oregon

— Also, from that box emerges handmade socks. This pair is from yarn we picked up in Coos Bay, Oregon, last year; they will be my COVID-19 socks.

Outside Superior, Arizona

— Ah yes, the opportunity to allow our focus to gaze far into the distance is indeed good for mental health. We drove out to Superior before turning south to Winkleman and then back north to Globe. The desert is spectacular and vibrant, with colors that speak volumes to anyone’s sensitivity to allergies. There were far more people out doing just what we were than I’d expected, and sadly, bikers and off-roaders obviously couldn’t care less about social distancing. Maybe the best part of the morning into the afternoon was our stop to pick up some chile relleno and enchiladas with a side of chips, salsa, and guacamole at Guayo’s on the Trail which turns out to be the sister restaurant to Guayo’s El Rey. Sitting in the car and getting into some tortilla chips before opening up our Mexican lunch was such an incredible treat, making this one of my best birthdays ever.

— I need to post three days’ worth of Stay In The Magic today as I fell out of that boat. It’s not particularly difficult; it’s just tedious. After 8-years away from the book, I still find it cumbersome to return to it as I fret over what I wrote and how worthy it might be of actually having any need to have been said. This brings me around to the imposter’s syndrome phenomenon, where the creator of something questions the utility, inspiration, or value of the thing they’ve created.

— Another day, another slog of information regarding COVID-19. To counteract the negative, Caroline and I made a donation to the Navajo & Hopi Families COVID-19 Relief and their GoFundMe page.

— I’ve not brought up my Surface Book in a few weeks as it was the computer I dragged out to coffee shops so I could work away from home. I need to update some firmware for my 16n Faderbank (synth stuff) this morning; I see that my notebook is in a kind of suspended animation. What stood out to me was a page I’ve been monitoring for a month now that has been following the statistics of the sick and dead as that relates to COVID-19. The page still in my browser is from March 13 and shows only 1,776 confirmed cases and 41 deaths, and for Arizona, we had 9 cases and zero deaths. Strange how, at that time, just before Caroline and I started to self-isolate, New York had 328 cases and zero deaths. Today, on April 6th, we stand at 338,412 people reported to have the virus and have seen 9,692 deaths, while in Arizona, we’ve jumped to 2,269 cases and 64 deaths. Twenty-four days after that browser stopped updating, New York has seen over 4,000 deaths from this coronavirus. What I don’t want to forget is that back on March 13th, our president, Donald Trump, and his lackeys at Fox News were still portraying the pandemic as something that was contained and not a threat to the people of the United States. San Francisco was the first city in America to issue a “Shelter in place” directive, but that was still three days away back then, and some majority of Americans believed our president and right-wing media that all was good in the heartland.

— Walking in the fresh air. Gyms are closed, and with that, I was certain that I’d see an increase in walkers and bikers due to so many people being at home. Besides the initial pop in people in our neighborhood that happened when the stay-at-home directions were given, there have been no further increases. Sad, although nice for me, I suppose. I’m out walking between 2 and 3 hours per day, so my time out there should encounter others at some part of the walk, but from 5:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m., there is nothing out of the new ordinary. Since March 14th, when we started to self-isolate, I’ve logged 191 miles or 310 kilometers. These 24 days without many airplanes, nearly nothing regarding pollution, and the increased quiet will likely be difficult to keep in memory once these days have passed. While this is all a far cry from the solitude found in the middle of the Grand Canyon or in Yellowstone during the winter, this is the modern metropolis version of peace and quiet. How fleeting it might be and sad that it may never again be experienced.

— Those of us lucky enough to be in love with knowledge seeping into our minds know the pleasures of encountering the frustrating moments when reading or doing something and being uncertain if we have comprehended what our eyes are finding. We attempt to decipher the series of words or tasks that are assemblages of a long history of thought and doing that has been shared and brought forward over the breadth of human history, it is nearly incomprehensible as to exactly how that effort has been accomplished. To read a book is not as simple as reading the author’s musings as those words have a long lineage of usage that has taken on cultural meaning and nuance while the string of images conjured by the sentences is a kind of amalgamation of bits and pieces of meaning and imagery that long precede any particular writer attempting to bring forth meaning in their work. When this works, we move knowledge out of the recent archaic, which might only be the last day, week, or year, into our present until we figure out a way to share our new knowledge with the next person who may be the recipient of what we’ve learned.

— My imagination is a monastery, and I am its monk – John Keats.

— If we can’t let the earth and various creatures of the planet breathe, the Earth will choke us out. It seems ironic that COVID-19 has its victims unable to get a deep breath, forcing them to feel the anguish of a tuna dragged from the sea or a bird trying to raise a brood in heavy smog where the poor air might take the life of its offspring. I know we are not supposed to believe that the world has intentions of its own that would allow it to seek revenge against the species that is causing so much damage, but then some believe in a God that makes decisions on spiritual worthiness affecting the soul of a person for eternity. While both lines of thought are kind of crazy, one is accepted as popular dogma, while the idea of anthropomorphizing a hunk of rock and water would be ludicrous. But again, giving human attributes to pets is, on some level, perfectly normal, and shaming someone for doing so would be considered rude. Okay, then the Earth is alive and imbued with the spirit of Gaia, because why not? It is angry and needs to rattle our sense of complacency when destroying our host. It sees us as the virus. This is in no way a new concept as I think it was Terrence McKenna whom I first heard some 25-30 years ago posit this New Age idea that I found strange at the time, but now I’m not so certain that it’s wrong.

— At this moment, nearly all flights have stopped, so upper atmosphere pollution is falling rapidly. Cruise ships and a large percentage of cars have been halted. The earth is taking a breather. Funny how people who practice yoga claim to understand the need for deep cleansing breaths and will then turn around, jump into their SUV, and take their children to school a mile or two away. Yet we insist on our convenience being an apex need and that any sacrifice asked of us is akin to communism; what’s next, taking away our guns? What a petulant superstitious society of idiots we are. We brought our thinking out of the dark and middle ages and decided our weird belief systems had a place in a modern age where an electronically driven metal box can freeze fresh food for months on end while voices and images can be beamed around the globe in real-time. To NOT understand our place and demand personal intellectual accountability is truly a mark of the idiocy we are comfortable with. If only we could stop and seriously think about these absurd ideas that praying to an entity none of us knows or has seen will bring about a miracle of something never before recorded or documented in any meaningful way. Or consider that when we look at a dog and want to infer when we think it’s happy as though we can read the feelings of another species while taking the lives of each other and countless other species we don’t much care about, we are a twisted and crazy species that has little self-recognition of our own mental illness.

From out the dust of Earth, our lives take form, and upon its surface, we grow as though in a womb, and yet we take no issue in stabbing, shitting upon, bleeding, and gassing our planet, which would make a better stand-in for a God than the one who gives nothing.

— Clearer skies, quieter world, the surface of our land is not vibrating as it had been. I don’t know how scientists will measure all of these effects and the ones we are as of yet unaware of, but I hope that we learn a lot more about how our activity, or lack of it has worked to do positive things. Never before in the Industrial Age has human activity across the globe come to a simultaneous halt; there must be larger implications.

— Thirteen years ago, Caroline and I were leaving Ocracoke Island in North Carolina and driving north once we were back on the mainland. Getting hungry, we stopped at the Mackeys Ferry Peanuts store and bought more boiled peanuts. Back on February 25th of this year, I was updating some old blog entries, and I came across the story about our stop out there in the woods and decided it was a great time to order 10 pounds of raw peanuts from the same place if they were still open, they were. We are in the process of finishing the first 5 pounds, with some of them having been roasted while more than half have been boiled. The other 5 pounds are in the fridge where they need to be and will likely start finding their way into our crockpot over the coming weeks. So, while we can’t travel right now, we are still able to take ourselves into the memories of places we’ve visited and kind of relive our time there through the tastes of things we enjoyed while out on the road.

Balcony Desk

— Why it took us a month to buy a folding desk so I could set it up outside on the balcony is a mystery. This is such an obvious need now that it’s here. It’s springtime, the breeze is cool, and the sky is blue with fluffy little clouds whispering across the sky while the birds sing out their orchestra of celebration that seems to recognize they have a new kind of freedom. To the neighbor with the wind chime, thank you for positioning it at the perfect distance from us so it adds a sweet accompaniment to the ambiance I’m enjoying on this perfect day.