XXXIX.

Very excited by recent New Yorker article about an island community in Denmark that produces all their own power, and then some, using wind turbines and other innovations. What’s interesting is not just what they did, but how they overcame initial apathy in the community and turned the project into something of a sport, according to one citizen. The same article introduces the 2,000 Watt society, project of a Swiss thinktank which proposes 2,000 watts per person as a sustainable level of energy consumption that ought to be achieved without loss of standard of living. The reporter visits a building in Switzerland which was designed with the 2,000-watt-society in mind:

Among the many unusual features of the EAWAG Center is a lack of usual features. The building, which opened in 2006, has no furnace; it is so tightly insulated that, on most days, the warmth thrown off by the office equipment and the two hundred people who work inside is enough to keep it comfortable. Additional heat is provided by the sun—in winter, the outside panels tilt to allow in the maximum amount of light—and by air sucked in from underground. The building also has no conventional air-conditioners: in summer, the panels tilt to provide shade, and if the building gets hot during the day, at night the windows at the top of the atrium open, and the warm air rushes out. It supplies about a third of its own electricity with photovoltaic panels installed on the roof, and gets its hot water from solar collectors. Its bathrooms are equipped with specially designed “no mix” toilets that separate out urine, which contains potentially useful phosphorus and nitrogen. (“Exploiting common waste as a resource is a mark of sustainable civilization,” a booklet on the building observes.)

XXXVIII.

As you can probably tell from this blog, I’m attracted to going backwards with blogging: pre-titles, pre-tags, maybe even pre-links. The opposite of the internet.  Played around at the start (before moving over here) with writing stuff by hand and scanning it. I like that idea but need to learn how to link from within the visual image. At this rate, by the end of summer, I’ll be writing in a notebook and keeping it between my mattress and my box-spring.

The other side of me isn’t satisfied with this dark and gimmicky space I’ve created here. It’s summer, I have a new job, I’m meeting new people, I’m not normally a black-with-orange-accents kinda girl and I’m not feeling that way right now. Sometimes I do, though, and I believe in commitment to an aesthetic, so where would that leave photos? Video? Less oblique posts? Should I make some kind of uber-site of which this is just one piece?

Maybe I could compromise by keeping my laptop and camera hidden between my mattress & box-spring.

XXXVII.

Good Magazine

When you subscribe – $20 – 100% of it goes to a nonprofit of your choice, ranging from TFA to KIVA with a whole lot of other choices. They’ve raised over $800,000 so far. I gave mine to 826National, a creative writing/tutoring program started by the likes of Dave Eggers. In return, you get 6 issues of GOOD magazine. I haven’t looked around much yet – the website is a little “busy” for my tastes – but each issue has a theme, and you’ll find profiles of people, photography, art, and design pieces, feature articles, and participatory “projects.” Good describes itself as “the integrated media platform for people who want to live well and do good. We are a company and community for the people, businesses, and NGOs moving the world forward. GOOD’s mission is to provide content, experiences, and utilities to serve this community.”

I tried MAKE magazine, but I think Good is more my speed.

XXXVI.

I promised myself I would always look at my city as the train passed over the bridge.  Our motion was like music you could see, the buildings, trees, and river appearing and disappearing behind the great blue-grey metal beams of the bridge, visible through the long rectangular windows of an in-bound train, seen through the windows of the out-bound train, each view and shadow passing in its own time.

XXXV.

You still think there might be an explanation for the silence.  You wait for the email that explains what’s been in his head, but you know you won’t receive it.  For four days you had that feeling like your heart is a helium balloon pushing its way beyond your chest and up into the atmosphere.  You played the same song over and over again.  The signs and omens seemed to promise happiness but long chatty emails turned into silence.  You pushed your heart back down into your chest, swallowing the inevitable.