Dumpster Diving Basics
Pirated from Sheldon Miller
Every few days, I become an enigma; a painfully obvious, yet completely invisible enigma. Whether alone or with friends, on foot or in my car, once I bypass the front door and head for the treasure-laden dumpster out back I am transformed. At best, I become a non-entity, at worst a disgusting eccentric.
Augsburger's presents a prime example. The dumpster lies in a path from apartments behind the store to the back driveway. Occasionally people will pass during the course of my investigations of the treats available that day. Invariably, they speed up and determinedly focus on that point on the horizon used to make uncomfortable "situations" disappear, and I evaporate.
I started dumpster diving this past fall and winter with my housemates and curious friends, after reading an article on a longtime dumpstering advocate / free spirit / funhog. We ventured out and collected our biggest haul ever. The inaugural trip yielded a whole produce section of barely blemished fruits and vegetables. After a canning, freezing, and cooking frenzy, we were hooked.
But people's reactions to my dumpster diving has and still intrigues me. Whether a knowing, dismissive chuckle from more respectable family and friends or looks of disgust from some stranger, public response to dumpster diving is strong and predictable.
Why is dumpster diving socially dirty? Why is it radical? I'm familiar with the ready answers the calculus of our economy and waste gives. Anyone who has spent any length of time in our country must certainly be aware of those ideological commitments.
But at what point does something actually become trash, become totally worthless? How can an $.85 bunch of broccoli mutate into irredeemable garbage on the basis of its being two days past its prime? What's the functional difference between my window fan that I picked from the trash and the rejuvenated and the new $17.50 model?
Very little. I must quickly add that not everything is salvageable. Food can sometimes fall into a questionable zone of personal tastes and tolerances. For instance, unlike Matt "Iron Gut" Kanagy, I refuse to eat any tuna salad sandwiches that I may find in the trash, no matter how good they look. But one can count on finding plenty of things still highly recoverable. I've given the Pepsi challenge to some of my pickier friends and relatives, and they don't question the food's quality until after revelation of its roots.
And this is to say nothing of goods. My son sleeps in a dumpster-found sleepers and wears dumpster-diapers. Our house is partly furnished with dumpster finds: chairs, lamps, shelves, sofas, TV/VCR stands. We grill on a trash-picked barbeque. We ride my dumpster bikes, have had a dumpster Budweiser (just as bad as fresh Bud), have been cooled by a dumpster fan, brewed wine in dumpster jugs, and hope to fill our dumpster aquarium before too long (with dumpster goldfish?). Anything that we don't eat, of course, goes into our dumpster compost bin.
Given the mountain of stuff that we've saved from the landfill, the pile of cash we haven't spent, and the ridiculous amount of fun we've had collecting all of our finds, I can't see any reason to look askance at the fruits of the dumpster. If the rest of society chooses to ignore this vast resource, the that decision speaks volumes about our culture of consumerism -- but it also means more selection for those of us who choose to take advantage of it.
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Dumpster diving hints/tips
Be careful around dumpsters. Lids can slam shut from the wind amazingly quickly.
Watch out for intentional contamination and sharp trash. Some people will bleach their food to prevent theft. Bottles, metal and general glass just hurt.
A good long stick with a sharp end is really nice to poke at bags and reach way back into corners.
Please avoid meat, eggs and dairy food. Everyone knows this, but as a reminder, the stuff gets really nasty really quick.
If anyone in authority asks what you are doing, the safest thing is to say that you are looking for boxes
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Dumpster etiquette
Be aware of what you are taking. You can run afoul of people if you take sensitive materials (e.g. office refuse with bank numbers). This in itself isn't bad, but is a potential problem if you get caught taking something you didn't mean to.
Be conscious of how much you are taking and how much you use. It's simple ethics: taking more than you can use and throwing it away takes it away from other potential users, some of whom may be far more dependent on dumpster treasures than you are.
Leave the dumpster looking better than you found it. Just a simple way to ensure that diving will remain a resource for all.
Saturday, May 17, 2003
Friday, May 16, 2003
Seize the image
by Skald Hareksson
They want us to bow our heads and shuffle. They want us to smile, shuck and jive. They want us to apologize for being unemployed. They want us to beg them for help. They want us to praise their Gods and damn their devils. They want us to surrender our ferocity, our fire, and our dignity. They want us to tow their line: "all drugs are evil all the time" (unless they prescribe them). They want us to follow their rules. They want us to be predictable, safe, and sterile. They want us to be good little consumers. They want us to be good little workers. They want us to keep their appointments, accept their diagnoses, take their medications, submit to their treatment, follow their intervention plans, take their classes, see their doctors, ......
They want us to buy their useless gadgets. They want us saddled with rent, credit cards, bank loans, car payments, insurance bills, utility bills---- OBLIGATIONS.
They want us to accept the image they project: that we are poor, pitiful, depraved, mentally ill, chemically imbalanced, undisciplined, unfashionable, uncool, ---- VICTIMS.
I say fuck them! I say its time to seize our images. I say its time to raise our heads and stare them straight in their shifty little eyes. No more apologizing. No more bullshit stories. No more.
Let's re-define ourselves! We are the descendants of a noble tribe... we are poets, pilgrims, pagans, painters, artists, avatars, wanderers, warriors, nomads, hobos, holy men, earth women, shamans, searchers, sufis, sadhus, sorcerers, sculptors, saints. We carry on the noble tradition of Thoreau in his cabin, Jesus in the desert, Buddha under the tree, Mohammed wandering thirsty, a million Hindu sadhus.
We carry on the tradition of the Beat Poet dharma bums. We carry on the tradition of Whitman and Basho.
We defy the suburban social workers and their forms and their shelters and their curfews and their judgements. We defy the psychiatrists and their BMWs. We defy the rich donors and their gaudy jewelry and self-congratulating smirks. We defy the drug warriors and the police. We defy the SUV assholes. We defy the latte-liberals. We defy the suits.
We are fierce and we are free!
We are the new tribe. We are Hobopoets!
by Skald Hareksson
They want us to bow our heads and shuffle. They want us to smile, shuck and jive. They want us to apologize for being unemployed. They want us to beg them for help. They want us to praise their Gods and damn their devils. They want us to surrender our ferocity, our fire, and our dignity. They want us to tow their line: "all drugs are evil all the time" (unless they prescribe them). They want us to follow their rules. They want us to be predictable, safe, and sterile. They want us to be good little consumers. They want us to be good little workers. They want us to keep their appointments, accept their diagnoses, take their medications, submit to their treatment, follow their intervention plans, take their classes, see their doctors, ......
They want us to buy their useless gadgets. They want us saddled with rent, credit cards, bank loans, car payments, insurance bills, utility bills---- OBLIGATIONS.
They want us to accept the image they project: that we are poor, pitiful, depraved, mentally ill, chemically imbalanced, undisciplined, unfashionable, uncool, ---- VICTIMS.
I say fuck them! I say its time to seize our images. I say its time to raise our heads and stare them straight in their shifty little eyes. No more apologizing. No more bullshit stories. No more.
Let's re-define ourselves! We are the descendants of a noble tribe... we are poets, pilgrims, pagans, painters, artists, avatars, wanderers, warriors, nomads, hobos, holy men, earth women, shamans, searchers, sufis, sadhus, sorcerers, sculptors, saints. We carry on the noble tradition of Thoreau in his cabin, Jesus in the desert, Buddha under the tree, Mohammed wandering thirsty, a million Hindu sadhus.
We carry on the tradition of the Beat Poet dharma bums. We carry on the tradition of Whitman and Basho.
We defy the suburban social workers and their forms and their shelters and their curfews and their judgements. We defy the psychiatrists and their BMWs. We defy the rich donors and their gaudy jewelry and self-congratulating smirks. We defy the drug warriors and the police. We defy the SUV assholes. We defy the latte-liberals. We defy the suits.
We are fierce and we are free!
We are the new tribe. We are Hobopoets!
Hobovan Journal, dated 9/29/02
by Skald
Last night I looked at her picture and cried-- thumbed through my planner and stared at the date: July 9th. I'd written in "Jessica died" and also the names of her children- "Heather" and "Benjamin". The tragedy is more than I can bear-- how will I ever get my heart and mind around it? How will I ever accept it?
The gaps in my memory are troubling... How will I re-construct the life I had with her... the life she had after me?
There are no answers.
by Skald
Last night I looked at her picture and cried-- thumbed through my planner and stared at the date: July 9th. I'd written in "Jessica died" and also the names of her children- "Heather" and "Benjamin". The tragedy is more than I can bear-- how will I ever get my heart and mind around it? How will I ever accept it?
The gaps in my memory are troubling... How will I re-construct the life I had with her... the life she had after me?
There are no answers.
Hobovan Journal, dated 9/26/02
by Skald
Bought a pair of wool pants today... something satisfying about getting these-- tough, practical, unfashionable. They are German Army issue-- stamped "1940". These bad boys have been around 60 years and are still in great shape! They are warm, thick, and sturdy. Should get me through the worst that a southern winter has to offer.
Note- Army surplus shops can be great suppliers for Hobopoets-- I got these pants for only $18... they'll probably still be around when I'm 100 years old.
by Skald
Bought a pair of wool pants today... something satisfying about getting these-- tough, practical, unfashionable. They are German Army issue-- stamped "1940". These bad boys have been around 60 years and are still in great shape! They are warm, thick, and sturdy. Should get me through the worst that a southern winter has to offer.
Note- Army surplus shops can be great suppliers for Hobopoets-- I got these pants for only $18... they'll probably still be around when I'm 100 years old.
Satori in Nepal
by Skald
In Pokhara I snorted a dried ampule of ketemin and danced joyfully with death. I was comforted by my contact with the dark Tao and laughed when it was all over... chanted "nothing to fear" for days after. Could it be that death itself is not traumatic-- but rather ecstatic? Is it really death that I fear?
Lately I hear whispers from that ketemin quest and from Jessica dreams and lonely night walks and Varanasi's river of ash. I hear, and I am not afraid.
by Skald
In Pokhara I snorted a dried ampule of ketemin and danced joyfully with death. I was comforted by my contact with the dark Tao and laughed when it was all over... chanted "nothing to fear" for days after. Could it be that death itself is not traumatic-- but rather ecstatic? Is it really death that I fear?
Lately I hear whispers from that ketemin quest and from Jessica dreams and lonely night walks and Varanasi's river of ash. I hear, and I am not afraid.
Thursday, May 15, 2003
Everything Changes
journal entry dated 8/20/02, by Skald
A puppy in New Delhi station- stumbling. It's body felt hard,.. its skin taut, like a tabla drum. It could not bark, only "mew" a pitiful croak. It's eyes filled with yellow mucous which quickly crusted.
Why is the truth so hard to feel?
Jessica is dead yet I dream of her and pretend it isnt so. Everything has changed but in my life nothing changes. I am consumed by a thousand irritants. The lie of security envelopes me.
journal entry dated 8/20/02, by Skald
A puppy in New Delhi station- stumbling. It's body felt hard,.. its skin taut, like a tabla drum. It could not bark, only "mew" a pitiful croak. It's eyes filled with yellow mucous which quickly crusted.
Why is the truth so hard to feel?
Jessica is dead yet I dream of her and pretend it isnt so. Everything has changed but in my life nothing changes. I am consumed by a thousand irritants. The lie of security envelopes me.
Dancing with the Most Noble Prince
by Skald Hareksson, journal entry dated 7/25/02
Two deep hits last night.... the little lego people came again but then I became enmeshed among them, one of them... I was a vibrating quantum packet in a field of other red and tan packets.
I moved through them and passed into new rooms, different worlds, but no discernible macro phenomenon. Where was I? Had I blended with the sub-atomic? Was I a living particle? Everything vibrated.
Towards the end I felt somewhat lost and shaken.... remembered that I was an "I" but what was I? Where did I come from? What form did I usually take? Could I get back?
Quite strange, to forget you are human (or to remember that you are a vibrating field of quantum Tao).
Eventually I begin to remember.... I'm human!...... I was in a room..... I smoked salvia!!!! That's right... and I remember names... Todd,... Lewis.... slowly I return to the ordinary world.
I open my eyes. I'm sweating.
by Skald Hareksson, journal entry dated 7/25/02
Two deep hits last night.... the little lego people came again but then I became enmeshed among them, one of them... I was a vibrating quantum packet in a field of other red and tan packets.
I moved through them and passed into new rooms, different worlds, but no discernible macro phenomenon. Where was I? Had I blended with the sub-atomic? Was I a living particle? Everything vibrated.
Towards the end I felt somewhat lost and shaken.... remembered that I was an "I" but what was I? Where did I come from? What form did I usually take? Could I get back?
Quite strange, to forget you are human (or to remember that you are a vibrating field of quantum Tao).
Eventually I begin to remember.... I'm human!...... I was in a room..... I smoked salvia!!!! That's right... and I remember names... Todd,... Lewis.... slowly I return to the ordinary world.
I open my eyes. I'm sweating.
Omens
by Skald Hareksson
Omens of death today:
I talked with a dead friend in my dreams,
And awoke to find a cat by the road.
I was a guest of The Most Noble Prince...
who dreamed of my death.
A snake caught a frog and pulled him underwater--
I saved him.
This is a strange time.
Whispers of mortality on the wind.
Jessica is dead
But the shadows have come alive.
by Skald Hareksson
Omens of death today:
I talked with a dead friend in my dreams,
And awoke to find a cat by the road.
I was a guest of The Most Noble Prince...
who dreamed of my death.
A snake caught a frog and pulled him underwater--
I saved him.
This is a strange time.
Whispers of mortality on the wind.
Jessica is dead
But the shadows have come alive.
The Hobopoet Joe Reynolds
Joe's Website Link
So anyway, today started slow with me getting up just before seven and starting the clean up rounds. Jimmy showed up obstensibly to finish the roof over Lang's and some work on the sprinklers but he was acting a mite on the bizarrre side. Nothing I could definitely say but he was raising the hackles on my neck and the sooner I was away the better. There are a couple of people who want me to room with him to keep an eye on him which is not what ither his mother or grandma want. Besides I didn't care for the way he was hitting me up for cash.
I have much better use for my money. Haircut and more laundry this week. Computer time is free for me this week - I did a favor for them here and I am paid with free time online.
I love my cheapo inverter. Four hundred blazing watts to charge laptop or cell phone now that I am looking into them. Trac phone offers no contract but first few minutes a day come to two-fifty and ten cents a minute after that. And if I use that as a modem- well at six bucks an hour to be online Cyberzone is cheaper at two an hour (unless they owe you favor and make it free and unlimited - unkless they are closed of course!).
Nextel- I have to call them because for under sixty a month I get four or six hundred anytime (forty cents per minute after that) and unlimited night and weekends. Additional ten bucks and they will give me email access and use of them as ISP and my phone as modem. That may be the best Thing is I have to give them a year contract with a two hundred buck fee if I cancell early. That part makes me worrry a little but it may be something I can live with. hell probably not as much of a problem as I can dream up; I do tend to be a worry-w! art.
Also have found nice not too expensive fifteen amp solar charger that I can mount on van roof or just plain old on dashboard when not running. Plugs into cigarette lighter to charge car battery or into (Taaa-Dah) sealed storage rechagable battery meant for when you have a dead battery. It also has two plug outlets so you can charge laptops or cell phones or lights when camping. So for about a hundred/hundred twenty I can be independent of the power grid or running stuff with my car engine running (so my battery doesn't die). I am not sure what my cost of electricity is using my van as a gas powered generator but I assume it isn't cheap or anything near to "competative". Cost-effective? I doubt it but under the circumstances there isn't a lot of choice.
Two solar panels would be best maybe but that can wait. However it makes me wish the van was one of those camper RVs! They have showers and kitchens and a toilet (that has to be pumped out every now and then or hooked up to sewerage in campground.) ( You have no idea how attractive that sounds to me compared to what I am doing now!!!!)
Last night had a treat, when pizza palor was closing the owner gave me the remaining half of a medium pie with chicken and garlic. He would have had to throw it out as it was what they were eating and it being only the two last night there were left-overs for once. It was pretty good I have to say. I'll order that nexttime I am getting a pizza!
So anyway I had a beer I bought at Lang's - Arrogant Bastard Beer , it has a rather mean looking devil on bottle with caption "you aren't worthy". Went well with the pizza as I played a DVD on my laptop. Not to bad a way to end the day especially considering everything!
Well okay so an anime feature and some writing for about half an hour and I was down to eighteen percent power on my battery and I decided to call it a night. No reading, no radio just straight to put stuff away. Brush teeth in the bathroom - lotsa fun when the power isn't on - which is why I am so rechargable battery oriented right now. Yes and I did see that nice solar-powered battery charger on Real Goods!
So what am I just lucky but not lucky enough or some new type of homeless person or just a dumb schmuck who hasn't seen the wall approaching at about ninety miles an hour and will find out when I splat that this moth-race is over.
See I told you I'm a worry-wart!
Zen hugs, Joe
Joe's Website Link
So anyway, today started slow with me getting up just before seven and starting the clean up rounds. Jimmy showed up obstensibly to finish the roof over Lang's and some work on the sprinklers but he was acting a mite on the bizarrre side. Nothing I could definitely say but he was raising the hackles on my neck and the sooner I was away the better. There are a couple of people who want me to room with him to keep an eye on him which is not what ither his mother or grandma want. Besides I didn't care for the way he was hitting me up for cash.
I have much better use for my money. Haircut and more laundry this week. Computer time is free for me this week - I did a favor for them here and I am paid with free time online.
I love my cheapo inverter. Four hundred blazing watts to charge laptop or cell phone now that I am looking into them. Trac phone offers no contract but first few minutes a day come to two-fifty and ten cents a minute after that. And if I use that as a modem- well at six bucks an hour to be online Cyberzone is cheaper at two an hour (unless they owe you favor and make it free and unlimited - unkless they are closed of course!).
Nextel- I have to call them because for under sixty a month I get four or six hundred anytime (forty cents per minute after that) and unlimited night and weekends. Additional ten bucks and they will give me email access and use of them as ISP and my phone as modem. That may be the best Thing is I have to give them a year contract with a two hundred buck fee if I cancell early. That part makes me worrry a little but it may be something I can live with. hell probably not as much of a problem as I can dream up; I do tend to be a worry-w! art.
Also have found nice not too expensive fifteen amp solar charger that I can mount on van roof or just plain old on dashboard when not running. Plugs into cigarette lighter to charge car battery or into (Taaa-Dah) sealed storage rechagable battery meant for when you have a dead battery. It also has two plug outlets so you can charge laptops or cell phones or lights when camping. So for about a hundred/hundred twenty I can be independent of the power grid or running stuff with my car engine running (so my battery doesn't die). I am not sure what my cost of electricity is using my van as a gas powered generator but I assume it isn't cheap or anything near to "competative". Cost-effective? I doubt it but under the circumstances there isn't a lot of choice.
Two solar panels would be best maybe but that can wait. However it makes me wish the van was one of those camper RVs! They have showers and kitchens and a toilet (that has to be pumped out every now and then or hooked up to sewerage in campground.) ( You have no idea how attractive that sounds to me compared to what I am doing now!!!!)
Last night had a treat, when pizza palor was closing the owner gave me the remaining half of a medium pie with chicken and garlic. He would have had to throw it out as it was what they were eating and it being only the two last night there were left-overs for once. It was pretty good I have to say. I'll order that nexttime I am getting a pizza!
So anyway I had a beer I bought at Lang's - Arrogant Bastard Beer , it has a rather mean looking devil on bottle with caption "you aren't worthy". Went well with the pizza as I played a DVD on my laptop. Not to bad a way to end the day especially considering everything!
Well okay so an anime feature and some writing for about half an hour and I was down to eighteen percent power on my battery and I decided to call it a night. No reading, no radio just straight to put stuff away. Brush teeth in the bathroom - lotsa fun when the power isn't on - which is why I am so rechargable battery oriented right now. Yes and I did see that nice solar-powered battery charger on Real Goods!
So what am I just lucky but not lucky enough or some new type of homeless person or just a dumb schmuck who hasn't seen the wall approaching at about ninety miles an hour and will find out when I splat that this moth-race is over.
See I told you I'm a worry-wart!
Zen hugs, Joe
Notes from the Hobopoet Joe Reynolds
After a small scare today (loose ignition switch) I got a small solar recharger for the car battery. Also retightened the switch in place - whew, motor would barely turn over! Anyhow I can't run with inverter on all the time as battery does need a full charge somewhere along the line!
This way the car will be maintained which is priority one. If no running van then all else falls down.
However there are larger cheap panels and some not so cheap that will also keep the battery charged.
Just wish finding a job and place to live was as easy. That is the funny part, I mean I am making enough to make me partially independent of the "system" but not enough to be part of it?
Welcome to the new America.
Abandon all dreams beyond this point at least it says to above the portal...
Decided to rent the remake of Lolita on DVD. Should be interesting, wonder if it will seem as funny as the one with James Mason and Peter Sellers did to me when I was a kid. (Sorry folks back then Sue Lyons never reminded me of the twelve year old girls I knew. Eighteen yeah but come on, she looked like a rown up to this kid!)
Bit of excitment this morning- looked like another break-in but turned out Gamar just forgot to lock up the carpet shop last night!
Dropped in at John's and shared some coffee and time. We both are feeling a bit lonely. In his case the wife is now absent with her friends all the time. He is thinking of going up by family in Oregon. He mentioned some property one bought, slightly over two acres, small log house just off highway with all utilities and only cost three thousand...
Of course the price is a dead give away there is zero work available in the area.
Rats!
Jumbo-sized Rats!!!!!
Wll can't have it all, I guess!
Take care, Joe
After a small scare today (loose ignition switch) I got a small solar recharger for the car battery. Also retightened the switch in place - whew, motor would barely turn over! Anyhow I can't run with inverter on all the time as battery does need a full charge somewhere along the line!
This way the car will be maintained which is priority one. If no running van then all else falls down.
However there are larger cheap panels and some not so cheap that will also keep the battery charged.
Just wish finding a job and place to live was as easy. That is the funny part, I mean I am making enough to make me partially independent of the "system" but not enough to be part of it?
Welcome to the new America.
Abandon all dreams beyond this point at least it says to above the portal...
Decided to rent the remake of Lolita on DVD. Should be interesting, wonder if it will seem as funny as the one with James Mason and Peter Sellers did to me when I was a kid. (Sorry folks back then Sue Lyons never reminded me of the twelve year old girls I knew. Eighteen yeah but come on, she looked like a rown up to this kid!)
Bit of excitment this morning- looked like another break-in but turned out Gamar just forgot to lock up the carpet shop last night!
Dropped in at John's and shared some coffee and time. We both are feeling a bit lonely. In his case the wife is now absent with her friends all the time. He is thinking of going up by family in Oregon. He mentioned some property one bought, slightly over two acres, small log house just off highway with all utilities and only cost three thousand...
Of course the price is a dead give away there is zero work available in the area.
Rats!
Jumbo-sized Rats!!!!!
Wll can't have it all, I guess!
Take care, Joe
Taxi Trip by Matt Salleh
Originally published in Hobopoets Issue #1
I got into a taxi the other day. I was on my way to get a physical examination for a job prospect so I was headed to the hospital. I figured a hospital would be a pretty easy place to find. I thought anyone that lived in this town would know where it was. I also figured any taxi driver could find it. Not so. Bad assumptions.
The guy that responded to my wavering hand was a Chinamen. Not that Chinamen are anymore incompetent than any of the rest of taxi drivers in this city. Not that he could have been anymore incompetent than an Indian taxi driver or driver of any nationality. Its just that his China-men-ness accentuated the conversation.
He was very exuberant about getting me in his cab. For some reason, mat sallehs are preferred customers. Probably because we usually dont know where were going and were funny to look at.
He was expressive about his lack of knowledge of any place I wanted to get to.
"Ampang Puteri Hospital Please". I requested.
"You know where is"?
"No. Youre the taxi driver. Youre supposed to know where things are and how to get to them." I didnt really say this I just thought it. Instead, I just looked dumb, a look us Americans have cultivated and turned into a science in order to get what we want.
"You don know? I dont know." He said to me, along with a couple of other things for which I cannot find symbols on my keyboard to represent. He threw up his hands and waived them around and said some more of those things that are not represented well enough in the alphabet I know.
I showed him a slip of paper that had the words AMPANG PUTERI HOSPITAL written on them. He kept driving so I figured he finally knew where I was talking about. But then, suddenly, as if frozen in his tracks by the prospect of an instant meal of kueh teow or dim sum, he stopped in the middle of the road. From his gunung berapi spewed forth yet another eruption of words, which both dismayed and mystified me. I think it might have been one word that took a total of 10 minutes to say all at once, or maybe a string of mutterings that should not be repeated in front of those not used to hanging out with construction workers or taxi drivers. At any rate, we were again having a "cultural moment" and were at the crossroads of our language barrier.
Finally, I said "H-o-s-p-i-t-a-l" in a loud clear voice. We Americans tend to do that when we want to communicate with someone with another language. Our theory is that if we say it loud enough and slow enough then it wont matter that they dont speak English. Theyll figure it out anyway. I mean, after all, English is the only language anyone needs to know nowadays. And again, I showed him the scrap of paper with the words AMPANG PUTERI HOSPITAL scribbled across them.
He erupted into a fit of laughter.
"Oh, hospiterhl. H-O-S-P-I-T-ERHL" he screamed back to me in a state of delerium. He kept laughing. So much so that I thought I might have unwittingly stumbled upon some inside national joke that amuses everyone in the country. The kind of joke you just dont get when youre an outsider. I was almost proud of myself, pretending that I could relate to his humor while shaking my head up and down and laughing too.
"Hospital" I replied as if it were the funniest thing I had ever heard.
And again he let into another set of symbolic gestures and words that I took to mean "Why didnt you say so in the first place you jack-ass?" and then drove off towards the hospital.
Once in a while I could here him mumble "hospiterhl" and giggle to himself up in the front seat.
Im glad he was amused.
Im glad we made it to the hospital.
At least I learned to add a little "erhl" to the end of my words that end in L.
Originally published in Hobopoets Issue #1
I got into a taxi the other day. I was on my way to get a physical examination for a job prospect so I was headed to the hospital. I figured a hospital would be a pretty easy place to find. I thought anyone that lived in this town would know where it was. I also figured any taxi driver could find it. Not so. Bad assumptions.
The guy that responded to my wavering hand was a Chinamen. Not that Chinamen are anymore incompetent than any of the rest of taxi drivers in this city. Not that he could have been anymore incompetent than an Indian taxi driver or driver of any nationality. Its just that his China-men-ness accentuated the conversation.
He was very exuberant about getting me in his cab. For some reason, mat sallehs are preferred customers. Probably because we usually dont know where were going and were funny to look at.
He was expressive about his lack of knowledge of any place I wanted to get to.
"Ampang Puteri Hospital Please". I requested.
"You know where is"?
"No. Youre the taxi driver. Youre supposed to know where things are and how to get to them." I didnt really say this I just thought it. Instead, I just looked dumb, a look us Americans have cultivated and turned into a science in order to get what we want.
"You don know? I dont know." He said to me, along with a couple of other things for which I cannot find symbols on my keyboard to represent. He threw up his hands and waived them around and said some more of those things that are not represented well enough in the alphabet I know.
I showed him a slip of paper that had the words AMPANG PUTERI HOSPITAL written on them. He kept driving so I figured he finally knew where I was talking about. But then, suddenly, as if frozen in his tracks by the prospect of an instant meal of kueh teow or dim sum, he stopped in the middle of the road. From his gunung berapi spewed forth yet another eruption of words, which both dismayed and mystified me. I think it might have been one word that took a total of 10 minutes to say all at once, or maybe a string of mutterings that should not be repeated in front of those not used to hanging out with construction workers or taxi drivers. At any rate, we were again having a "cultural moment" and were at the crossroads of our language barrier.
Finally, I said "H-o-s-p-i-t-a-l" in a loud clear voice. We Americans tend to do that when we want to communicate with someone with another language. Our theory is that if we say it loud enough and slow enough then it wont matter that they dont speak English. Theyll figure it out anyway. I mean, after all, English is the only language anyone needs to know nowadays. And again, I showed him the scrap of paper with the words AMPANG PUTERI HOSPITAL scribbled across them.
He erupted into a fit of laughter.
"Oh, hospiterhl. H-O-S-P-I-T-ERHL" he screamed back to me in a state of delerium. He kept laughing. So much so that I thought I might have unwittingly stumbled upon some inside national joke that amuses everyone in the country. The kind of joke you just dont get when youre an outsider. I was almost proud of myself, pretending that I could relate to his humor while shaking my head up and down and laughing too.
"Hospital" I replied as if it were the funniest thing I had ever heard.
And again he let into another set of symbolic gestures and words that I took to mean "Why didnt you say so in the first place you jack-ass?" and then drove off towards the hospital.
Once in a while I could here him mumble "hospiterhl" and giggle to himself up in the front seat.
Im glad he was amused.
Im glad we made it to the hospital.
At least I learned to add a little "erhl" to the end of my words that end in L.
Chris Moses
Originally published in Hobopoets Zine
CHAPTER TWO:
The point and the goal
Answer a fool according to his folly.
-Proverbs, 26:5
The man is the richest whose pleasures are the cheapest.
-Henry David Thoreau
There is no knowable point to life, so let's make one up. The imaginary point to life is satisfaction. The imaginary point to life is procreation. The imaginary point to life is salvation in the everlasting hereafter. The imaginary point is a combination of the above. The imaginary point is the conspicuous acquisition and consumption of goods and services at a rate above the average bloke in general and, specifically, at a rate above you immediate neighbors.
Push polls indicate, in that least common denominator kind of way, that the correct imaginary point to life is conspicuous acquisition and consumption. Thus and so our life goal is to outspend our neighbors, to put more cash into our houses, cars, and green lawns. We are status sensitive creatures; we like tangible evidence of our success. The square footage of our dwelling, the purr of our sports car's engine, the color saturation of our lawn- all are solid, empirical indicators of our personal worth. Let's call this outlook and practice the status-driven orientation.
To understand our personal value we can use these indicators just like rulers. To discover your intrinsic worth stack your indicators up against the indicators of your neighbors. But perhaps your neighbors have acquired and consumed certain things of which you are unaware. How should you account for this? The answer is do not make any attempt to estimate this unknown. It is practically unverifiable and represents the primary reason why the conspicuous component of consumption is so important. Please remember that it's not your fault if your neighbor fails to maximize his indicators. He or she probably just needs a little peer pressure to stay on track.
Once you have stacked your indicators against those of your various neighbors, you should calculate two things to get the clearest picture of your human worth. First create a ranked list with the person/family with the highest indicator in first place. These are the most successful neighbors; it's fair and reasonable to call them "the best." Fill in all the people in the middle through to the lowest place. The neighbors in last place are termed "the worst" and may deserve your scorn. But try also to pity them by remembering that each neighbor has an important social function and role within the group's hierarchy. For example, the disgrace of those at the bottom helps maintain the upward pressure, which is essential to the validity of the ranking process.
Second, calculate the average of your neighborhood's indicators and stack against your own indicators. Create a standard deviation curve and rate the first, second, and third deviations with the letter grades A, B, C, D, F. If your indicator value falls within the first deviation consider your value as a human to be average. Use your grade in combination with your rank from the ranking list to discover whether you are a success, a failure, or just lie somewhere in between.
picture of standard deviation curve
Perhaps the status-driven orientation appeals to you. If so, I imagine you might be able to learn more about how to pursue it from books with names like How to Win Friends and Influence People or How to Marry the Rich Man You Deserve. However, at this point you may alternatively feel like you've been beaten with a bag of oranges. If so, let's examine another imaginary point to life. (Actually you have been beaten with a bag of large-ish lemons.)
The imaginary point to life is procreation. We can call this view the blue genes orientation. The best we've got lies right below our belt buckle. Basically, we serve the interests of our genetic material and are rewarded with things like orgasms and children. Unfortunately, we are also rewarded with things like sexually transmitted diseases and children prepared paternity-suit style.
image of man and woman in silhouette
The Gnostics are likely interested in the point to life option that focuses on the hereafter. As I understand the Judeo-Christian tradition, the point to life can crudely be reduced to this: the Gnostic exchanges 60 or 70 years of life on earth for an infinite period of peace, happiness, and wisdom. This approach takes some patience, but the returns sound far far better than those Peter Lynch could ever get. To continue with the attractively vulgar monetary comparison, it takes big risks to achieve big rewards in investing. Conservative investments yield modest returns; speculative investments yield proportionately more for the level of risk you assume. Interestingly, this risk to reward ratio is liner only over a limited range.
graph of risk to reward efficiency frontier
(For a comprehensive and readable analysis of the relationship between risk and reward in investing read A Random Walk Down WallStreet by XXXXXXXX.)
When you invest everything you've got, namely your entire life, for everything that you could ever want, namely eternal peace and satisfaction, you're placing a big bet, namely the biggest bet you could possibly make. If you win, you win in all. If you lose, you lose it all. It's risky for sure and the lack of empirical evidence for the integrity of the investment may be cause for some concern.
Perhaps the moderate, risk-adverse Judeo-Christians will wish to hedge their bets a bit. Using Modern Portsoulio Theory sophisticated Jews and Gentiles can allocate certain percentages of their time to specific behavioral categories. For example, one could invest 60% of his behavior in following the Ten Commandments, helping the less fortunate, and attending services/ praying every day. This would be the bread and butter allocation for your soul- nothing to radical, just good solid J-C behavior. Another 15% of the pie could be dedicated to aggressive Judeo-Christianity such as orthodox kosher practices or self-mortification. Perhaps liberal doses of Jonathan Edwards. The last 15% could be allocated to J-C neutral activities such as golf or mildly questionable activities such as very occasional non-procreative sex between husband and wife and always in the missionary position.
Atheists (heathen communists), agnostics (heathen biologists), and perhaps some pagans (heathen idolatrists, get a job!) may need to look elsewhere for the point to life. Some may opt for short-term hedonism- the 4 D's- drinking, drugging, dancing, and doing it ASAP. These folks are living in the present and if philosophically driven, understand that there are no guarantees of a new brighter tomorrow. Essentially behavior is directed toward the goal of physical pleasure and avoidance of mental discomfort.
If boneheads tend to opt for the 4 D's (honestly, how many folks of this type are philosophically driven?) then eggheads tend to opt for long term hedonism of the slightly acetic type- avoidance of physical pleasure and pursuit of intellectual challenge.
Adapted from Walden III, unpublished text
Originally published in Hobopoets Zine
CHAPTER TWO:
The point and the goal
Answer a fool according to his folly.
-Proverbs, 26:5
The man is the richest whose pleasures are the cheapest.
-Henry David Thoreau
There is no knowable point to life, so let's make one up. The imaginary point to life is satisfaction. The imaginary point to life is procreation. The imaginary point to life is salvation in the everlasting hereafter. The imaginary point is a combination of the above. The imaginary point is the conspicuous acquisition and consumption of goods and services at a rate above the average bloke in general and, specifically, at a rate above you immediate neighbors.
Push polls indicate, in that least common denominator kind of way, that the correct imaginary point to life is conspicuous acquisition and consumption. Thus and so our life goal is to outspend our neighbors, to put more cash into our houses, cars, and green lawns. We are status sensitive creatures; we like tangible evidence of our success. The square footage of our dwelling, the purr of our sports car's engine, the color saturation of our lawn- all are solid, empirical indicators of our personal worth. Let's call this outlook and practice the status-driven orientation.
To understand our personal value we can use these indicators just like rulers. To discover your intrinsic worth stack your indicators up against the indicators of your neighbors. But perhaps your neighbors have acquired and consumed certain things of which you are unaware. How should you account for this? The answer is do not make any attempt to estimate this unknown. It is practically unverifiable and represents the primary reason why the conspicuous component of consumption is so important. Please remember that it's not your fault if your neighbor fails to maximize his indicators. He or she probably just needs a little peer pressure to stay on track.
Once you have stacked your indicators against those of your various neighbors, you should calculate two things to get the clearest picture of your human worth. First create a ranked list with the person/family with the highest indicator in first place. These are the most successful neighbors; it's fair and reasonable to call them "the best." Fill in all the people in the middle through to the lowest place. The neighbors in last place are termed "the worst" and may deserve your scorn. But try also to pity them by remembering that each neighbor has an important social function and role within the group's hierarchy. For example, the disgrace of those at the bottom helps maintain the upward pressure, which is essential to the validity of the ranking process.
Second, calculate the average of your neighborhood's indicators and stack against your own indicators. Create a standard deviation curve and rate the first, second, and third deviations with the letter grades A, B, C, D, F. If your indicator value falls within the first deviation consider your value as a human to be average. Use your grade in combination with your rank from the ranking list to discover whether you are a success, a failure, or just lie somewhere in between.
picture of standard deviation curve
Perhaps the status-driven orientation appeals to you. If so, I imagine you might be able to learn more about how to pursue it from books with names like How to Win Friends and Influence People or How to Marry the Rich Man You Deserve. However, at this point you may alternatively feel like you've been beaten with a bag of oranges. If so, let's examine another imaginary point to life. (Actually you have been beaten with a bag of large-ish lemons.)
The imaginary point to life is procreation. We can call this view the blue genes orientation. The best we've got lies right below our belt buckle. Basically, we serve the interests of our genetic material and are rewarded with things like orgasms and children. Unfortunately, we are also rewarded with things like sexually transmitted diseases and children prepared paternity-suit style.
image of man and woman in silhouette
The Gnostics are likely interested in the point to life option that focuses on the hereafter. As I understand the Judeo-Christian tradition, the point to life can crudely be reduced to this: the Gnostic exchanges 60 or 70 years of life on earth for an infinite period of peace, happiness, and wisdom. This approach takes some patience, but the returns sound far far better than those Peter Lynch could ever get. To continue with the attractively vulgar monetary comparison, it takes big risks to achieve big rewards in investing. Conservative investments yield modest returns; speculative investments yield proportionately more for the level of risk you assume. Interestingly, this risk to reward ratio is liner only over a limited range.
graph of risk to reward efficiency frontier
(For a comprehensive and readable analysis of the relationship between risk and reward in investing read A Random Walk Down WallStreet by XXXXXXXX.)
When you invest everything you've got, namely your entire life, for everything that you could ever want, namely eternal peace and satisfaction, you're placing a big bet, namely the biggest bet you could possibly make. If you win, you win in all. If you lose, you lose it all. It's risky for sure and the lack of empirical evidence for the integrity of the investment may be cause for some concern.
Perhaps the moderate, risk-adverse Judeo-Christians will wish to hedge their bets a bit. Using Modern Portsoulio Theory sophisticated Jews and Gentiles can allocate certain percentages of their time to specific behavioral categories. For example, one could invest 60% of his behavior in following the Ten Commandments, helping the less fortunate, and attending services/ praying every day. This would be the bread and butter allocation for your soul- nothing to radical, just good solid J-C behavior. Another 15% of the pie could be dedicated to aggressive Judeo-Christianity such as orthodox kosher practices or self-mortification. Perhaps liberal doses of Jonathan Edwards. The last 15% could be allocated to J-C neutral activities such as golf or mildly questionable activities such as very occasional non-procreative sex between husband and wife and always in the missionary position.
Atheists (heathen communists), agnostics (heathen biologists), and perhaps some pagans (heathen idolatrists, get a job!) may need to look elsewhere for the point to life. Some may opt for short-term hedonism- the 4 D's- drinking, drugging, dancing, and doing it ASAP. These folks are living in the present and if philosophically driven, understand that there are no guarantees of a new brighter tomorrow. Essentially behavior is directed toward the goal of physical pleasure and avoidance of mental discomfort.
If boneheads tend to opt for the 4 D's (honestly, how many folks of this type are philosophically driven?) then eggheads tend to opt for long term hedonism of the slightly acetic type- avoidance of physical pleasure and pursuit of intellectual challenge.
Adapted from Walden III, unpublished text
Creative Clusters
Pirated from Julia Cameron
As artists {Hobopoets}, we belong to an ancient and holy tribe. We are the carriers of the truth that spirit moves through us all. When we deal with one another, we are dealing not merely with our human personalities but also with the unseen but ever-present throng of ideas, visions, stories, poems, songs, sculptures, art-as-facts that crowd the temple of consciousness waiting their turn to be born.
We are meant to midwife dreams for one another. We cannot labor in place of one another, but we can support the labor that each must undertake to birth his or her art and foster it to maturityÖ
Success occurs in clusters. Drawing a Sacred Circle {of artists} creates a sphere of safety and a center of attraction for our good. By filling this form faithfully, we draw to us the best. We draw the people we need. We attract the gifts we could best employ. The Sacred Circle is built on respect and trust.
What we are talking about here is the power of breaking isolation. As artists we can consciously build what I call Creative Clustersóa Sacred Circle of believing mirrors to potentiate each otherís growth, to mirror a `yes` to each otherís creativity. In my experience we can benefit greatly from the support of others who share our dreams of living a fuller life. Often someone elseís breakthrough insight can trigger one of our own.
Success occurs in clusters. As artists, we must find those who believe in us, and in whom we can believe, and band together for support, encouragement, and protection.. rapid and sustained creative gains can be madeóespecially if people are willing to band together in clusters. As creative people , we are meant to encourage one another.
Let us form constellations of believing mirrorsÖ creativity grows among friends.
Pirated from Julia Cameron
As artists {Hobopoets}, we belong to an ancient and holy tribe. We are the carriers of the truth that spirit moves through us all. When we deal with one another, we are dealing not merely with our human personalities but also with the unseen but ever-present throng of ideas, visions, stories, poems, songs, sculptures, art-as-facts that crowd the temple of consciousness waiting their turn to be born.
We are meant to midwife dreams for one another. We cannot labor in place of one another, but we can support the labor that each must undertake to birth his or her art and foster it to maturityÖ
Success occurs in clusters. Drawing a Sacred Circle {of artists} creates a sphere of safety and a center of attraction for our good. By filling this form faithfully, we draw to us the best. We draw the people we need. We attract the gifts we could best employ. The Sacred Circle is built on respect and trust.
What we are talking about here is the power of breaking isolation. As artists we can consciously build what I call Creative Clustersóa Sacred Circle of believing mirrors to potentiate each otherís growth, to mirror a `yes` to each otherís creativity. In my experience we can benefit greatly from the support of others who share our dreams of living a fuller life. Often someone elseís breakthrough insight can trigger one of our own.
Success occurs in clusters. As artists, we must find those who believe in us, and in whom we can believe, and band together for support, encouragement, and protection.. rapid and sustained creative gains can be madeóespecially if people are willing to band together in clusters. As creative people , we are meant to encourage one another.
Let us form constellations of believing mirrorsÖ creativity grows among friends.
Poetry by the Hobopoet Todd Huey
Soulwork
My love comes from a spiritual awakening.
Why then does my percussion of love pain me so?
This trance dance groove that I hold so dear vibrates
whole new waves of painful evolution.
My belief system now has no charts where love lies.
So now I hate my melodies. Abolish this instrumental heart
from my imposed limits.
I accept this unusual loveless dream-like journey.
Where there is no creation of love resides.
Torture of the heart, no beauty in a flower, nor in a sunset,
Nor in God himself. I damn my love. I damn my soul owned love.
There is no sword that afflicts such sorrow as the distant shore of love.
Oh, distinctive voice let me love so;
As this hypnotic journey of love you possessed me with.
For all my pores bleed of love found. The gentile book of love,
The exploration of love gives me the light of day.
New sweets. My love is blinding light,
My hands, my fingers, my tongue, my body and soul
are tools for giving an electrifying celebration of life.
Wandering peacemakers- this aural traveler of deep space awakens
from the spellbinding life plan.
For the awaking of fireflies and moonlit nights.
My vibratingÖ.
My vibrating windowís to my head--
resonates my sound to you.
My fingers skipping over wind holes of wood and soul.
This compassion being-instrument will give you a
vibrating dance.
The ear to the universe is now open.
Dust trails light years long and lifetimes thick;
The fireball which is us,
which is one ,
which is forever.
Seeing beyond past, present, and future.
My music will unveil this picture to you.
Dance, dance, dance fingers and tell her my message of love.
How I Contribute
My pain is the blanket I cling to when
I am alone in the darks of my mind.
This colored mist hides many shadows of self.
The irony is my light source is ëselfí.
This choice Iíve made will lighten my spiritÖ
So to remember again.
My Transformation
My transformation is flooding with confusing
ripples of choices.
The riverís soul is now boundlessÖ..
and running rapidly lost. Cascadeís turbulence
is my consciousness. Feeling dazed as I am
draining down the side of the mountain.
Losing my breath.
Open to the driving desire.
White water with tiny dancing bubbles.
Peering in hopes to spot lifeís eddies.
It is not my lungs that burn, it is my heart.
My soul being recirculated.
The river has changed level once
again and now it is as if I have
never held a rudder. Find the will.
The voice speaks,
The life lifts to higher places.
Soulwork
My love comes from a spiritual awakening.
Why then does my percussion of love pain me so?
This trance dance groove that I hold so dear vibrates
whole new waves of painful evolution.
My belief system now has no charts where love lies.
So now I hate my melodies. Abolish this instrumental heart
from my imposed limits.
I accept this unusual loveless dream-like journey.
Where there is no creation of love resides.
Torture of the heart, no beauty in a flower, nor in a sunset,
Nor in God himself. I damn my love. I damn my soul owned love.
There is no sword that afflicts such sorrow as the distant shore of love.
Oh, distinctive voice let me love so;
As this hypnotic journey of love you possessed me with.
For all my pores bleed of love found. The gentile book of love,
The exploration of love gives me the light of day.
New sweets. My love is blinding light,
My hands, my fingers, my tongue, my body and soul
are tools for giving an electrifying celebration of life.
Wandering peacemakers- this aural traveler of deep space awakens
from the spellbinding life plan.
For the awaking of fireflies and moonlit nights.
My vibratingÖ.
My vibrating windowís to my head--
resonates my sound to you.
My fingers skipping over wind holes of wood and soul.
This compassion being-instrument will give you a
vibrating dance.
The ear to the universe is now open.
Dust trails light years long and lifetimes thick;
The fireball which is us,
which is one ,
which is forever.
Seeing beyond past, present, and future.
My music will unveil this picture to you.
Dance, dance, dance fingers and tell her my message of love.
How I Contribute
My pain is the blanket I cling to when
I am alone in the darks of my mind.
This colored mist hides many shadows of self.
The irony is my light source is ëselfí.
This choice Iíve made will lighten my spiritÖ
So to remember again.
My Transformation
My transformation is flooding with confusing
ripples of choices.
The riverís soul is now boundlessÖ..
and running rapidly lost. Cascadeís turbulence
is my consciousness. Feeling dazed as I am
draining down the side of the mountain.
Losing my breath.
Open to the driving desire.
White water with tiny dancing bubbles.
Peering in hopes to spot lifeís eddies.
It is not my lungs that burn, it is my heart.
My soul being recirculated.
The river has changed level once
again and now it is as if I have
never held a rudder. Find the will.
The voice speaks,
The life lifts to higher places.
The Library
by Chris Moses
Libraries are the great givers of life and much that is good in life to the disciplined hedonist. Entertainment and knowledge for your mind, heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer for your body. Homeless folks realize the bounty to be had and many of the brightest can be found surfing the internet or sending email at the library. Surely this is no coincidence.
How many books, videos, albums can be taken out over a lifetime? What is the value, monetary or otherwise, of such a resource? How much more pleasant it is to check out a classic movie such as Citizen Kane from the library than to pay to rent Dumb and Dumber from the Video-Mart. And then after discovering that Dumb and Dumber is a movie that really lives up to itís name, I have the privilege of making sure that I donít forget to rush it right back the next day. This pattern of behavior that so many take part in is difficult to understand. Although some libraries lend videos for just three days, many lend for a full week- a policy that solidly fosters the hedonistic lifestyle.
Libraries allow the hedonistic practitioner to have access to the classics, reference, and current periodicals without the burden of buying, storing, maintaining, and hauling these resources about. There exist few protocols that hold the virtue of the interlibrary loan in either the secular or non-secular domains. Rarely rivaled in poetic justice or beauty, it should be used sparingly due to the moderate cost for the library that makes the request.
by Chris Moses
Libraries are the great givers of life and much that is good in life to the disciplined hedonist. Entertainment and knowledge for your mind, heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer for your body. Homeless folks realize the bounty to be had and many of the brightest can be found surfing the internet or sending email at the library. Surely this is no coincidence.
How many books, videos, albums can be taken out over a lifetime? What is the value, monetary or otherwise, of such a resource? How much more pleasant it is to check out a classic movie such as Citizen Kane from the library than to pay to rent Dumb and Dumber from the Video-Mart. And then after discovering that Dumb and Dumber is a movie that really lives up to itís name, I have the privilege of making sure that I donít forget to rush it right back the next day. This pattern of behavior that so many take part in is difficult to understand. Although some libraries lend videos for just three days, many lend for a full week- a policy that solidly fosters the hedonistic lifestyle.
Libraries allow the hedonistic practitioner to have access to the classics, reference, and current periodicals without the burden of buying, storing, maintaining, and hauling these resources about. There exist few protocols that hold the virtue of the interlibrary loan in either the secular or non-secular domains. Rarely rivaled in poetic justice or beauty, it should be used sparingly due to the moderate cost for the library that makes the request.
Oil Drinking
by Chris Moses
(from draft Walden III: An Approach to Disciplined Hedonism)
One practice that can be employed to lower daily food costs is oil drinking. When I was living next to the housing projects in downtown Syracuse in 1993-1994, I used oil for one meal a day- experimenting with both oil breakfasts and oil lunches. I found generic vegetable oil (made of soy or soya oil) to be the best combination of taste and low cost. It was easiest for me to consume the oil as one would consume a quick shot of liqueur and chase it with a full glass of water. I would drink about a º to a 1/3rd cup of oil for a meal- this was about the most oil my body would tolerate. More than this and I would feel or actually become sick to my stomach.1/4 cup vegetable oil contains xxxxx calories, xxxxx grams of saturated fat, xxxxx grams of monosaturated fat, and xxxxx grams of unsaturated fat.
I cannot empirically say whether oil drinking is or is not a physically healthy and sound practice. On the face of it and from my personal experience it was at worst a neutral practice and it would likely compare favorably to the harmful and expensive practice of consuming an equal amount of calories from animal sources (dairy and meat). Overall, I believe oil drinking may be an appropriate part of a diet for the disciplined hedonist who is living on a very low income.
I was a regular oil drinker for about 8 months and only during the weekdays, not he weekends. During this time I saved ~ $200.00 or a bit over $1.00 a day. I plan to avoid a return to this way of getting calories, but should I find myself in the position of having little to no income I may return to it. In 1993/94 I was spending $300.00-$400.00 per month in repairs on my 1986 Ford Escort. This is a seemingly outrageous amount when I think about it now and remember that I was making ~$14k/year (pre-tax) at my full-time group home job. Had I not been required to have a car as a prerequisite for my job, I would have gotten rid of it and done away with oil drinking altogether!
by Chris Moses
(from draft Walden III: An Approach to Disciplined Hedonism)
One practice that can be employed to lower daily food costs is oil drinking. When I was living next to the housing projects in downtown Syracuse in 1993-1994, I used oil for one meal a day- experimenting with both oil breakfasts and oil lunches. I found generic vegetable oil (made of soy or soya oil) to be the best combination of taste and low cost. It was easiest for me to consume the oil as one would consume a quick shot of liqueur and chase it with a full glass of water. I would drink about a º to a 1/3rd cup of oil for a meal- this was about the most oil my body would tolerate. More than this and I would feel or actually become sick to my stomach.1/4 cup vegetable oil contains xxxxx calories, xxxxx grams of saturated fat, xxxxx grams of monosaturated fat, and xxxxx grams of unsaturated fat.
I cannot empirically say whether oil drinking is or is not a physically healthy and sound practice. On the face of it and from my personal experience it was at worst a neutral practice and it would likely compare favorably to the harmful and expensive practice of consuming an equal amount of calories from animal sources (dairy and meat). Overall, I believe oil drinking may be an appropriate part of a diet for the disciplined hedonist who is living on a very low income.
I was a regular oil drinker for about 8 months and only during the weekdays, not he weekends. During this time I saved ~ $200.00 or a bit over $1.00 a day. I plan to avoid a return to this way of getting calories, but should I find myself in the position of having little to no income I may return to it. In 1993/94 I was spending $300.00-$400.00 per month in repairs on my 1986 Ford Escort. This is a seemingly outrageous amount when I think about it now and remember that I was making ~$14k/year (pre-tax) at my full-time group home job. Had I not been required to have a car as a prerequisite for my job, I would have gotten rid of it and done away with oil drinking altogether!
Immediatism Excerpt
Pirated from Hakim Bey
Immediatism means to enhance individuals by providing a matrix of friendship, not to belittle them by sacrificing their `ownness` to group-thinkÖ What must be overcome is not individuality per se, but rather the addiction to bitter loneliness which characterizes consciousness in the 20th [and 21st] century.
Capitalism only supports certain kinds of groups, the nuclear family for example, or `the people I know at my job,` because such groups are already self-alienated and hooked into the Work/Consume/Die structure. Other kinds of groups may be allowed, but will lack all support from societal structure, and thus find themselves facing grotesque challenges & difficulties which appear under the guise of `bad luck`.
The first & most innocent-seeming obstacle to any Immediatist project will be the `busyness` or `need to make a living` faced by each of its associates. However there is no real innocence here- only our profound ignorance of the ways in which Capitalism itself is organized to prevent all genuine conviviality.
No sooner have a group of friends begun to visualize immediate goals realizable only thru solidarity & cooperation, when suddenly one of them will be offered a `good` job in Cincinnati or teaching English in Taiwan [or Japan!]óor else they`ll lose the `good` job they already have and be reduced to a state of misery which precludes their very enjoyment of the group`s project or goals (ie. They`ll become `depressed`). At the most mundane-seeming level, the group will fail to agree on a day of the week for meetings because everyone is `busy`. But this is not mundane. It`s sheer cosmic evil. We whip ourselves into froths of indignation over `oppression` & `unjust laws` when in fact these abstractions have little impact on our daily livesówhile that which really makes us miserable goes unnoticed, written off to `busyness` or `distraction` or even to the nature of reality itself (`Well, I can`t live without a job`).
Yes, perhaps it`s true we can`t `live` without a jobóalthough I hope we`re grown-up enough to know the difference between LIFE & the accumulation of a bunch of fucking GADGETS. Still, we must constantly remind ourselves (since our culture won`t do it for us) that this monster called WORK remains the precise & exact target of our rebellious wrath, the one single most oppressive reality we face.
Pirated from Hakim Bey
Immediatism means to enhance individuals by providing a matrix of friendship, not to belittle them by sacrificing their `ownness` to group-thinkÖ What must be overcome is not individuality per se, but rather the addiction to bitter loneliness which characterizes consciousness in the 20th [and 21st] century.
Capitalism only supports certain kinds of groups, the nuclear family for example, or `the people I know at my job,` because such groups are already self-alienated and hooked into the Work/Consume/Die structure. Other kinds of groups may be allowed, but will lack all support from societal structure, and thus find themselves facing grotesque challenges & difficulties which appear under the guise of `bad luck`.
The first & most innocent-seeming obstacle to any Immediatist project will be the `busyness` or `need to make a living` faced by each of its associates. However there is no real innocence here- only our profound ignorance of the ways in which Capitalism itself is organized to prevent all genuine conviviality.
No sooner have a group of friends begun to visualize immediate goals realizable only thru solidarity & cooperation, when suddenly one of them will be offered a `good` job in Cincinnati or teaching English in Taiwan [or Japan!]óor else they`ll lose the `good` job they already have and be reduced to a state of misery which precludes their very enjoyment of the group`s project or goals (ie. They`ll become `depressed`). At the most mundane-seeming level, the group will fail to agree on a day of the week for meetings because everyone is `busy`. But this is not mundane. It`s sheer cosmic evil. We whip ourselves into froths of indignation over `oppression` & `unjust laws` when in fact these abstractions have little impact on our daily livesówhile that which really makes us miserable goes unnoticed, written off to `busyness` or `distraction` or even to the nature of reality itself (`Well, I can`t live without a job`).
Yes, perhaps it`s true we can`t `live` without a jobóalthough I hope we`re grown-up enough to know the difference between LIFE & the accumulation of a bunch of fucking GADGETS. Still, we must constantly remind ourselves (since our culture won`t do it for us) that this monster called WORK remains the precise & exact target of our rebellious wrath, the one single most oppressive reality we face.
Day of gray
by Todd Huey
Damped mood, mellow, less
Dramatic- calm as the trees
on a gray motionless morning.
The clouds themselves seem lazy
no place to go, no one to see.
Legs up, sandals off, knees to chest.
my outgoingness now introverted. Deep
peaceful breaths fill my lungs.
My brain is not craving the many
half read books.
Daydreaming is a part of who
I am on this day of gray as the
unique clouds are to the sky.
Staring off into nothing
The meditation of a daydream
The mind stops leaving something deep
inside to take over.
The true meditation
Natural in its form
No special place you need to be
At an instant everything goes quiet and still
The picture in my head is as the framed
art hanging on the wall.
Seeing my surroundings only with
eyes.
Mind blank as the pages of my journal
Sitting motionless, mime-like
An instinctual need to put my arms
around myself to embrace myself.
Comfort in a day of gray as my
hands rest on my shoulders and
mind opens to nothing and everything all
at once.
by Todd Huey
Damped mood, mellow, less
Dramatic- calm as the trees
on a gray motionless morning.
The clouds themselves seem lazy
no place to go, no one to see.
Legs up, sandals off, knees to chest.
my outgoingness now introverted. Deep
peaceful breaths fill my lungs.
My brain is not craving the many
half read books.
Daydreaming is a part of who
I am on this day of gray as the
unique clouds are to the sky.
Staring off into nothing
The meditation of a daydream
The mind stops leaving something deep
inside to take over.
The true meditation
Natural in its form
No special place you need to be
At an instant everything goes quiet and still
The picture in my head is as the framed
art hanging on the wall.
Seeing my surroundings only with
eyes.
Mind blank as the pages of my journal
Sitting motionless, mime-like
An instinctual need to put my arms
around myself to embrace myself.
Comfort in a day of gray as my
hands rest on my shoulders and
mind opens to nothing and everything all
at once.
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