T8 Extravaganza

A new light fixture now graces the Hangar. Perfectly sized and reclaimed to fit and light the bench of work. Please enjoy a sampling of the most artistic photographs that I could find to adequately display their T8 greatness. They are practically T9's, but that would be ridiculous. In hindsight the bicycle is in the way because it is two-wheel hanging for winter storage already rather than unicycle wannabe hanging for summer easy access. The unicycle on the other hand is entirely hanging as itself. However, that is perhaps getting too personal.

It is amazing to me how any melancholy feelings that may swell up are quelled instantly by looking at the smiling face in the second picture (also in the first picture). It is perhaps the new uni-brow. Perhaps everything looks like it is smiling to me. The very idea.
(I am fascinated that I might intend to instill personality in an edifice only to find it in areas that I never foresaw. Foresaw is a horrible word. It is basically doubly past tense because the word saw is all ready past tense, but I am beFORE it. Weak sauce. Forgiveness is preferable to proofreading. I apologize for those of you who do not see beauty as I do. I also can not explain how I see it to compare, such is an impasse.)

Posting for the Sake of Posting

I love posting things such that there be things posted. Henceforth, I go forth and post hence. Yesterday was amazing, garage-wise, at the least. The landscaping surrounding The Hangar improved tremendously in that a year's worth of brush and branches was removed by a mere two trailer loads. In so doing, aesthetically speaking, the backyard in which I reside looks almost like a front. You read that right. Believe it or do not believe it. As a man's clothes make him look handsome, so a car-hole's yard makes it look like the Cadillac Garage of garages. Obviously, I exaggerate the truth to make it less true as no less than three dead trees remain adjacent to the newly beautified yard area. Also, it is the autumn of our discontent, and any flora is dormant to say the most. However, leaps and bounds describe the progress being made in the issue of yard beautification. Also, an old clothesline post.

Posting because I want to is constantly fighting with not posting because I do not want to. The internal struggle will continue until it ends, or until I post half-truths and riddles. This web log continues to be an outlet through which I can selectively bottle things up. I feel that I have already said too much, yet less than I want to. Au revoir for now.

Content

This post is filled with content. This is necessary to necessitate a post. Such as it is, this post is happy, joyful, enthused, and content. This post is hopeful (although not necessarily) that subsequent posts will be so contentful. Space is left at the end of this post to leave room for the next posts. Not all content will fill this post. Some content will fill the next post and the posts after that. There may be repetition of content from one post to the next. This is how it is with content. A bucket of water can handle more water without overflowing, but is currently overjoyed with its current level. As I write much and say very little, I am not at all bothered by the space growing full or the time growing short. Each word is treasured as if it is the last drop to be drunk.

However, there is much more to drink. The bucket is not near full. Time is long. The sentence is still incomplete. The thought has yet to be expounded upon. The content is content, but looks forward to content content continuously.

Typer's Block

It is so easy to write, to let fingers fly and form phrases fomenting feelings (for example.) The problem is restraint. It is analogous to hearing a new song and already knowing all the lyrics: They rhyme, they flow with the melody, and I could have written that. The hardest thing in a dialogue with one's self is moderation. How do we find a happy medium (my nickname in college)? I have already said too much because I like the sight of my own voice.

Editing is even harder: How do I dare pull back or alter (amend) what I have just put forth (out there)? I change the meanings of my thoughts, then I change them back. I change the order to suit my wiles. I wile my changes to suit the order. I seek to turn my ramblings into a cogent argument against that which I am in favor of. Confrontation is more legible than the truth. I agree with all, and I oppose everything. There is a freedom in misusing words. Writing poorly means I am smarter than you, because I did it on propose.

Explanation or motivation of or for a composition (with a lower-case c) must accompany the piece (with a small p) lest the reader (and the writer) be left with a furrowed brow (not such a bad thing).

New and Exciting Personal Events in the Life of an American Carhole

There are a lot of special things going on in my life right now. I feel very good about them and the potential future that these things hold. It gives me that feeling like I'm doing something right and someone noticed. It is nice.

For example, there is a serious possibility of having a great time here in Holland with music, speakers, and music. I am not going to give up too many details right away, but the promise of so much going on in a garage is exciting. I am looking for a receiver to hook my speakers up to, but then, all bets are off. No bets preceding that either. Just stop betting.

I usually do not like to get too personal until there is something concrete to report, but sometimes it is fun to plan and to log said plans in a public forum. This way I can prove that I have been totally planning this for a while, also a compost barrel.

Legally Speaking

This is totally going in my blog:

I forgot to mention the charcoal grill on the floor of the car hole. This is significant as it practically makes the garage a house: If so inclined, one could sleep in the car, cook on the grill, work at the bench, that is all. Therefore, it is not legally a house except for as a house for cars. This should have been readily apparent. My neighbor is playing Stevie Miller. I am listening to Maps. It is a great driving song, but not for any subtle, aesthetic reasons:

That totally went in my blog.

Real Update

The floor is now cleaner than it was when it was new thanks to a short-handled broom and some new pegboard hooks. The official log of things on the floor are as follows: Snowball, trash can, old radio cabinet, lawnmower. That is all of the old news

There is currently no plan in the works to add goods or services to the beautiful concrete floor. Any future items shall be hung on the pegboard or placed inside the old radio cabinet. That is all the current news. To sum up, there is no current news (there are also no current newses), this is an almost unnecessary paragraph.

Plans are in the works for certain future hung items as follows: task light, speakers, old radio cabinet (to the extent physics allow). I prefer to avoid details on these three topics as plans are very fluid at this time. That is all the future news, for now, but will be updated prior to occurring, or transferred to the paragraph above.

Gratuitous Updates

This is an update for its own sake. It serves to update itself on its own status. Its status is that it is updated.

Well-sprung Window Fascination

A couple of night photographs follow. Just when I am almost bored with this, but then I see pictures like these. It appears as though I am in the middle of nowhere, all alone, shining my light for all to see against a sea of darkness. However, the lonely reason the background appears so black in the central city is the brightness of the light. The Snowball headlights shine forward with all their might hitting only their intended target, already well lit by well placed light springs.

I have officially over analyzed the captured events of last evening. That overhead window would look like the berries with a little luminaire lighting the look-through. Well.

Postable Notes Underneath The Swinging Lights

Not reading The Onion is my new favorite past-time. It relaxes me, and reminds me that most news I read already sounds like The Onion, anyway. This way, I forget that I am not reading The Onion. I do not really miss it.

In other news, the workbench in the previous post folds away for additional storage and for subtracted benchage.

Furthermore, I hope to show some swell seasonally summer snapshots shortly showing sculptured césped. (I almost got all S's there, but almost only counts in spelling where people usually know what you mean anyway.) I never would have thought that grass would grow in my hard yard knowing what it looked like 1.3 years ago:
Hmm.

The new's readers read news reader's new's.

Trying to be liked, one likes to try liking. Making up for a lack of communication skills, this public diary attempts to give away the farm while maintaining the livestock. For example, here lie some neat pictures of the new workbench:

No News Never Negates New News

There is little to say, and so much time to say it. That time must be filled, preferably with silence. This is filling a lake with water. That is as deep as it gets here. We try to keep things light. We try to avoid the big questions. We do not ask questions that we do not know the answers to. We speak in second person plural to hide any individual ownership of a thought. The deeper we get, the less meaning the depth holds. Any discussion delegitimizes the weight of itself. The more I write, the less I mean. I seek airy discourse through philosophy or, more accurately, philosophization. I desire to strip the platitudes of their power. I have no desire to dance about architecture.

Pictures, platitudes, and pedestal putting will be post humorous.

Finally, a recent post

Here are some pedladen photographs:

7% of a picture

I currently have no camera batteries meaning pictures of the prolific peg board remain unposted. In other carhole news, a super sweet workbench is forthcoming. Utilizing one of the three Rs, it will be a lot like a table, with only one side accessible, hence a bench. The trick to this masterpiece of engineering will be ensuring that it works as designed. Please, stay tuned as the thought process proceeds.

Margaret

Pegleg Pete: Pictures Pending.

Sunny Day

Today was a nice day, but not in a photogenic way. Therefore, here is another interior picture.

Inner Space

Since this web log is all about the photographs, I decided to post some. I also wanted to be overly self-referential. I am prominently featured from the inside, unlike most of my previous photographic submissions. This way, you can see how I look from the point of view of my best friend, Snowball. My insides look good with flash as well as without the flash. You can especially see the inside of my overhead door, the unfinished interior walls, and you can barely see a switch in my picture. These are my most prominent indoor features.

Happy .Logging

Various pictures are posted below to show the snow. Fortunately, the sun causes great shiny areas of the pictures to occur. Slightly less fortunately, the sun melts the snow necessitating these pictures. In conclusion, these pictures are unnecessary. You do not need to see them. Thus, this paragraph ends.

On the brighter side, you can still see the great wall of snow on the west side of the driveway. It is getting larger, which is neat. I cannot wait to see how large it inevitably becomes and how long into the spring it ultimately endures. I am also glad that the transformer is prominently pictured. The first picture in particular is peculiarly electrically preeminent.

Some people like to hear themselves talk. I am like that, but not out loud. I can often be seen moving my lips while I read while I am, in fact, not reading.

S'no Problem

As I was standing out in the snow the other day, I realized how good I have it. More to the point, I realized how good it is going to be once this snow is gone, the temperature is 60 degrees warmer (Fahrenheit), and the warmth of the sun becomes something to shield ones skin and eyes from rather than welcomed. I digress, however, the crux of the matter is such that I appreciate the summer, nay, I adore the three months, give or take, of summer, most of all, right now. In that way, winter really is the best season. The pure white snow not only reflects what little sunlight shining on us from the south, it refracts through space and time, from six months in the future, a faint glimpse of sun, surf, sand, sandals, and sandias. To sum up, I have way to much time to myself.

Memories

My, how I have grown. This is what I looked like last fall, if you were flying 200 feet above 14th Street. Crooked and small, I dominated an otherwise mundane backyard. Charming barn doors, a weatherproof pixelated roof, and surrounded by dead grass: These are things that can be seen from this low quality infoweb photograph. These are all things that I remember.

In Neighbor News, a passerby noticed my "modern"-ness, yet "classic"-icity, with my "light" and "window". Those were his exact words, so obviously, I was thankful. Unfortunately, I have little to write lately. I lack inspiration, muse, synonyms.

Happy New Year!

I am writing this post because I thought it right that I come up with some resolutions for the new year. Conveniently, Real Estate New Year's Day occurs at the same time as American New Year's Day. Therefore, my real-istic resolutions are as follows, numbered for convenience, but not importance:
1. Achieve some shelving, for storage, to relieve the burden on my best friend, The Basement.
2. Hide my key somewhere extremely convenient, but not too near at hand, so that Ross does not get locked out again, but so that everyone else does.
3. Add a light that is visible primarily through the attic window, Old North Church style.
4. Throw a garage-warming party as soon as I invent a way in which that would sound remotely fun.
5. Connect to the Infoweb. (Note to self: Wireless is cheating, just who does WiFi think she is, anyway, that I could just check my email on the go? Where am I going? Am I going to a place too lazy to pull a wire to? No. There is no such place.)
6. Test acoustics, but not acoustically, rather with something plugged in.
7. Write a log with a plot, characters, and a theme that will actually be more interesting than a list.
8. Decorate my interior walls in some manner befitting a carhole. Street signs and license plates instantly come to mind although they are locally in short supply.
9. Hang a bicycle in a fashion difficult to ride.
10. Paint my service door a color other than primer, even though it is my favorite color.
11. Caulk minuscule openings. That is more of a reminder than a resolution, although I resolve to remember it as of this moment.
12. Putter to a significant extent. Three of the five words in the preceding sentence have only relative meanings.
13. Presently regret starting this list as it seems like a lot of work, and the list itself is no longer much fun at all to write.
14. Have a car parked inside every night.
15. Resolve another dynamite resolution (see 14).
16. Imagine a fictional back story involving a sordid history of love and loss, feast and famine, drought and drink, to impress my future friends and acquaintances.
17. Achieve a level of sophistication paralleled only by my humility.

That is the list. I was trying to resolve 365 things such that I would have something to do everyday. Nonetheless, one of the aforementioned resolutions will take an estimated 358 days and others will take minutes or hours thus rendering this rapidly becoming used new year just packed.

Anti-Climax Superstar

Here I am, the Hangar you all watched grow from a hole in the ground to the best carhole in town (and willing to compare). The third picture is probably my favorite because it is somewhat isometric. Need I say more? Also noteworthy are the new lamps. It just would not be right to use mundane A19's (even though they blow CFL's out of the metaphorical water), so they were aptly replaced with a T10 in the coach and the never bourgeois G40 in the gooseneck. Great.