Sounds of Speed

I've always enjoyed sounds.  Sound effects recordings, events recorded in audio only. 

One of my favorite recordings is on an airplane sounds record.  It's an SR-71 start sequence.  For those of you that aren't familiar, you don't just get jet engine sounds with this one.  The old SR-71 starter units were big block V-8's, so the first thing you hear, is a pair of V-8 engines revving to redline for about 10 seconds, followed by a steadily increasing jet engine noise.  It's pretty awesome. 

I've got other favorites, Reno Air Race recordings, Indy 500 sounds from over the years. 

I'm thinking of this today, because, as I'm at work here at the old Wurtsmith AFB in Oscoda MI, there is a racing team using the runway for some high speed testing.  I can't tell exactly who they are, It's a yellow Corvette racing up and down the runway over and over, and they've got a massive big rig hauler painted up in black and yellow, featuring the corvette logo crossed flags. 

The sound, is amazing.  It sounds like NASCAR out here.  Slamming the car up through the gears, and then winding it out on the top end for a mile or so, before slowing down, hanging a U turn, and doing it again.  I can glimpse the car occasionally through the gaps in the blast fences, and it is really moving, 150 mph +.  I can't tell exactly. 

Thought I'd share, it's the little things that get us through.  Cheers everyone.

My worst birthday

I know it's more than a little emo to comment on something like this, but my most recent birthday was the worst one I've ever had.  :(

Nothing bad happened on it, nothing good happened on it.  Basically, nothing happened.

I turned 40 years old in February 2011, and my wife had turned the same age almost a month earlier.  She did not want to acknowledge it, she associated it with very negative feelings "the big 4-0"  and all that.  I, on the other hand, didn't feel that way at all.  I've always liked my birthdays, turning 40 was no different.

I won't go into it too deeply, I had three people wish me happy birthday:  My wife, who said it once, my aunt, who left it on Facebook, and my mother, who called me.  My kids didn't remember it.  We have a birthday calendar at work, and nobody noticed it was my birthday.  None of my friends remembered.

Granted, I didn't tell anyone.  I was just hoping someone would remember, it would have made me very happy.  As it was, I manned up, but I still felt like crying.  See?  I told you this was emo as hell.

It was just a huge miss I guess.  There was a small party on the Sunday before my birthday, mainly for my twin children, who's birthday is three days after mine.  This happened for various reasons, but, I had to leave for work before the cake came out even.  So, sadness.

Now, every time someone at work makes a fuss, saying "What will you get me for my birthday?"  or whatever.  I just get super annoyed, and think about how nobody noticed my birthday.  Even though I didn't tell anyone. 

I guess it's a little laughable when I put down on paper, so to speak.  But, I'm still counting my 40th, as my worst birthday.  Even though I don't think about it, unless someone reminds me of it.

Cheers all, no worries!

Forgot what day it is!

Holy cow, I forgot that this was Easter weekend!  I've had a little thing in the back of my brain to try to do season appropriate pieces on the poetry blog.  And, this being Good Friday, I dropped the ball.

Although, todays #112, could be interpreted as something dying a little.  As they say, you die a little every day, in a million different little ways. 

I promise, and I've already written it, to have something more Easter-y tomorrow, and on Easter. 

Tomorrow's bit, will have to do with a time travelling Doubting Thomas.  And I'm saying this here, it's not a half bad idea for a book or movie, so I'm claiming the idea, now, today. 

"I Fred Robel, thought of a story about a man travelling back in time, named Thomas, who followed Jesus, and became known as Doubting Thomas ~ April 22, 2011"

There, let someone rip me off now, hahaha! 

I'm thinking something about Were Rabbits for Easter.  I haven't worked it out yet. 

Just remember, I love all One of you that reads this. 

Cheers

I am not Mark Twain

I'll say it again, I am not Mark Twain.  Not even close, that isn't what I'm saying at all.

What I AM thinking, is that I can finally start to understand a lot of his works, in their context.  When he writes stories such as Huck Finn, and includes all the racist talk, and the general flavor of moments.  He isn't necessarily being literal, but he is lampooning the situation by placing on a pedastal and showing how ridiculous and over the top some attitudes and customs can be.

I find myself doing that today.  Probably not well.  And taken out of context, this piece is awful, and plainly says I need therapy, before I hurt someone. 

But I'm not supporting such activity or attitudes.  I'm making fun of them, I'm showing how ridiculous, how over the top they can be.  In my own small way, with my limited example. 

So it's the tiniest whisper of what Mr. Clements did.  Although certainly not the same. 

Check out #112 Blames The Victim, on the morrow.  Decide for yourself. 

Changing Shorelines

Today, and for a while now, I'm worried about my little microcosm called Saginaw Bay, in Michigan.  More specifically, the area between Point Au Gres, and Point Lookout.  That, is my little world.  I've been coming here, and living here, on and off since I was born, so for 40 years.  My memory of early times is predictably fuzzy, but it gets better as I went along.

What I'm worried about specifically, is the shoreline.  I've seen it change over the last 25 years.  And I know, the great lakes shorelines do change over time, I've seen older pictures of Point Lookout, and the shape is quite different.  What I'm talking about, is how the water levels are dropping in certain areas.  I believe this is due to silt, and sand movement, which is being unnaturally effected by protruding breakwater walls.  The two main culprits, are the breakwater at the mouth of the Au Gres River, and the shorter breakwater at the marina. 

The beaches, and shoreline, are completely changed in the vicinity of these two locations.  In some spots more than 100 yards of muck separates the old beach area, from where the water actually is.  That strange European wetland grass has filled in on these areas as well.

The problem is succinctly illustrated when viewed from above, using Google Earth for example.  You can observe the silt and sand filling in these areas, in a gentle arc, starting at the breakwaters.  And you can clearly see, where the new shoreline is going to form, eventually.  The beachfront homes are definitely going to be effected, as far as dollar value, and the 'living on the beach' experience, is certainly not as good when you have 100 yards of marshy muck out in front of your house.

I have certain questions on this.  I'm not sure who engineered these two projects, the marina and river breakwater walls, but I can't understand the process.  Who thought this was a good idea?  Was there no impact study done?   Is this flow of water, sand, and silt a new phenomenon?  I don't think so.

I can see that within my lifetime, these areas will have found their natural level, and a completely new solid shoreline will have formed.  It makes me sad. 

And, to project a compound on the problem.  When these areas fill in to where they naturally want to, in order to have protection for the marina and river mouth, the break-walls will have to be rebuilt and extended.  Thereby starting the problem all over again. 

I feel incredibly frustrated about this situation.  It's messing up my little corner of the world.

UPDATE (Aug 2014) - The past winter was a pretty long and snow-filled one.  This seems to have helped raise the lake water levels somewhat.  This encourages me to think that maybe someday I'll see the higher lake levels I enjoy recalling from the late seventies and eighties.

I'm not sure if this falls into the legendary "20 year cycle" that the old people talk about often.  Though that might be as much of a wives tale as the "Red at night, sailors delight" stuff.

I've also backed off of my theory that the changes I see being the sole result of the break-walls.  I now reckon it to be a combination of things.

- Possible excess outflow down the Bluewater area.

- The natural water level cycles.

- Excessive selling of our water resources to other states and private companies (think bottled water).

- AND the aforementioned rant about the break-walls and silt.

Like most things in life, everything I see regarding lake levels is probably the result of many factors.

Cheers

Is susceptable to sublimation

Well, someone wrecked my brain.  It was proposed that I should write one about Jessica Alba living under my bed.  And I wasn't going to do it.  But, there it was, festering.  So I had to.  I hope she doesn't sue me.  I totally dig her, but there I went, making her a monster under a child's bed.  Shameful!

Other that that, not much to report.  I really, for real, have to sell my truck.  It's taking up space in the yard, and not getting any younger.  It sucks though.  I really like it.  But it gets shitty mileage, and just isn't practical for everyday use.  So I charged up the battery, because it sat outside all winter, and it fired right up, and I took it for a ride down the road.  Now, more than ever I'll miss it.  It still drives so sweet.

But that's silly talk, missing a truck.  bah.  Cheers everyone.

Something strange observed

I found something curious today.  I have been consistently getting 3 to 5 hits on each poem I do on Fritz365, I'm no poetic superstar to be sure.  But, on the one from yesterday "#105 Laments For Creation of Commons, I have over 10 hits on it.  How strange. 

I did a google search on the title, and stuff for Creative Commons topics come up.  I think it might be getting thrown in to those results, and as it is a fairly popular search term, people are clicking on my link occasionally. 

So, in mind for an experiment, I will try naming an upcoming poem with one of google's top search terms, just to see how many hits it gets.  haha  Experimentation!  How glorious.

I'm not going to sell out my stuff completely, just the title, just to see what happens, I swear!

I can't wait!

The degree thing

This is awful, every time I look at this blog screen, I just want to write a poem or something.  The silly every day poetry thing is getting in me I think.  Must....Purge..... haha.

First thing:  I've decided that most college degrees, are in the end, pure bosh.  They are nothing you couldn't learn on your own, they just provide you with a handsome, very expensive, sheepskin for your wall.  And all the employment options that gives you.  Which is high brow bullshit if you ask me. 

I'm NOT talking about truly specialized things.....or maybe I am.  Can someone learn to be a decent doctor of some kind, through years of practicing, and researching?  yes, actually I bet you could.  Same for lawyering, financing, and the whole lot. 

I think I'm just feeling the frustration of age finally.  I just turned 40, which I know isn't very old, as things go.  But I've got almost 20 years experience in aviation now.  A significant portion of it, in 'unusual' parts of it.  Experimental flight testing, training, creating and maintaining all the documentation that goes along with an organization's maintenance of aircraft and components. 

BUT, when I see an interesting job opening, that I know damn well I could do, and one of the requirements is a bachelor's degree; man does it piss me off.  Really?  There's some requirement of this job that I don't know how to do already?  Or that I couldn't pick up quickly because of my background?

I just don't see it.  The almighty sheepskin is a crutch, for something.  Liability?  An excuse for not hiring someone from within your company? 

Or, here's the paranoia part:  Is it just another way to keep the 'poor, uneducated' masses in their place? 

Now, I don't have a real excuse.  I chose not to go get my bachelors, or higher.  I had the opportunity, and chose to get my technical degree, and get out there and make money.  And it worked, for a while.  I was out there, making money, getting experience, quicker than my college going buddies.  But within ten years or so, the tide changed.  They were out earning me for the most part. 

It's just frustration.  Unless I take the time to get a degree, at this late point in my life, and have the fun fun University of Phoenix stigma (housewives and prison inmates!!);  I'll be relegated to mostly low level positions, regardless of my experience, ideas, or effectiveness. 

That's what's worrying me today. 

How about you?

Tell me why I'm wrong.  :)

Pleased as punch to have you here

Nothing feels as good as having a thought, coalesce into a paragraph, and keep going for a bit.  I just had one of those.  I couldn't go too deeply, as I don't know much about the subject personally.  And actually researching it would be against something... I think. 

I have a friend who used to cut herself, at least I don't think she still does it, maybe.  But we talked about it a bit, and she showed me some pictures of what she'd done to herself.  I was a bit sad for her, but interested at the same time.  As to what drives you to do that, and what feelings you get from it.  She described some of that to me, and since that was a while ago now, I've forgotten most of what she told me I'm sure.  The images of what she wrote on her arms and legs still stands out in my head.  So that's what I wrote on in the latest poem of note.  I reflected on cutting for a little bit, then put on some Green Day, and banged it out.

I know, I'm making too big a deal out of doing something like that.  It's not like I wrote a book or anything.  But, it just gave me joy to have it flow out so smoothly.  That's all I'm sharing. 

And sharing is Caring!!!! Right kids? 

See #94 Sings A Cutter's Song  for all the wonderfulness.


Oh, and I totally had something else to say, which I've forgotten completely, the dog walked in, then my wife, now I forgot.  "Oh look, something shiny!"

Thinking about my "Art"

So, a dilemna today.  I showed one of my poems from my other blog to someone.  And they were a bit disturbed by it.   When I wanted to show them a more fun one, they replied, "No thanks, I think I'm full for now" 

I didn't know what to say.  Maybe I've gone down the wrong path with these things?  What do I want this body of work to be, exactly?  I mean, mostly, of late, my poems are fairly light topic affairs.  Not terribly offensive.  But when the mood takes me, I travel down some dark paths.  And, it's therapeutic as well. 

But, should I be posting my therapy for all to see?  Should I share my demons?  My fears?  Oh conundrum!

In the end.  I think I'll rally back to my "Art"  theory.  Art is sometimes not pretty, art can make you think, art a can make you uncomfortable.  Sometimes because it exposes something inside your own self that you don't like to admit.  So I am going to just keep going the way that I am.  And someday, when I publish all these in a book.  If someone buys it, and they read something awful, and disturbing, they'll just have to put it down, and walk it off.  Maybe they'll never read a thing I've written again because of it, maybe they'll throw the book away. 

The things that I write, both here and in the poetry page, are from my heart, they are what I'm thinking of at the moment.  Dreams, fears, things I see, or think I saw.... all fair game.

Such is my "Art".  I am woefully imperfect.  As is everything that I make. 

Sad Dog In The Car Story

I'm writing this in indirect reaction to an article I just glanced at on Boingboing.net . It was about dogs left in cars, and a photo study of them. How they sit there, wondering if anyone will ever come back, sort of a sad thought.

So, this reminds me of something I experienced in Bay City, MI, years ago, probably around 1994. I was passing through, going to the mall or something, when I saw a really cool old car for sale, I think it was a 1950's Lincoln of some kind. It looked sort of rough, and original. I like that look.

So I stopped. It was one of those rare heat waves Michigan gets, and it was over 100 degrees out. I walked over to the car and started admiring it through the dirty glass, and reading the dilapidated information sheet. Then I looked in the back seat. I saw little paw prints on the leather seats. They were covered with dust, and the paw prints showed up quite clearly. I looked a little more, and saw a little dog, a Pomeranian, curled up on the floor. I was shocked, and opened the door to see what was going on. The dog didn't move. I reached in and touched it, and it was hard, dead.

I was angry. It seemed to me, that someone took that little dog, and put it inside this old car, on one of the hottest days of the year. They may have even watched it die. I was upset, and I cried, but there was nothing to be done. I didn't know when it had happened. I took the dog, who had no collar. And put him in my car. I stopped on the way home, and buried him next to some trees in a field. I didn't know what else to do.

And that's my sad Dog In The Car story.

Edit Post script:  Here it is, May 31, 2022.  This incident still haunts me, now almost 30 years later.

Whenever I hear of an animal, or even worse, a child, dying in a hot car; this memory will surface.

Today, it was the excellent Jenny Jinya, and her Death cartoon that she draws.  In her world, Death is the grim reaper, who takes the souls of all the animals who are mistreated, and gives them happier after lives.

I hope the little Pom that I found, was visited by Death at the end too.  And found some ease at last.