YouTube video by Musk

We all have ‘em. Little ones. Big ones. Good ones. And yeah, bad ones. I’ll bet a neurologist could wax scientific on the advantages of streamlining neural pathways, or some such stuff. But for me it’s ease and familiarity. I have a morning coffee ritual that is more than just the need for caffeine, and even more than the pleasure of my coffee drink.

5 Tia, 1ND I decided Yommer needed only 50 wakes. And I’ve been thinking of Tia a lot lately, and thought I’d just name this period in their honor. It’s funny, before starting this journal the only cadence I had was my wake and sleep cycles. But now the naming structure alone seems to have given life to… well, my life.

One Republican involved in the Texas Senate contest called Musk’s in-your-face campaigning in Wisconsin last year “a mis

I went on a hike today. Short drive to a nice little place called Sinking Waters Forest Loop. I’ve blogged about it before. Today, during the drive, and the hike, I saw quite a bit of work-work-work. It was the squirrels! They were working like, umm… well, squirrels. Finding their nuts and hiding them. (Yeah, I sometimes feel like I’m an eight year old.)

Little Switzerland A charming little collection of stores and such perched (precariously, I’d say) on the side of a tall mountain. Wonderful views from the smattering of inns there. The community is reminiscent of if Gatlinburg and Asheville, had a runt of a child community. There’s a Witch Shop, and a cafe, and a used bookstore, as well as other things.

There’s the things… I live in the country. Compared to in-city living, it is indeed in the country. I see deer and wild turkeys in my yard almost every day. My neighbor has chickens, and someone across the little valley has chickens (with roosters), and turkeys. I hear the country and farm sounds all the time. And it’s nice. I have a nice little porch, part of which is covered.

Tanglewood Creekside Campground Near Linville Gorge in North Carolina is a nice little campground, Tanglewood Creekside Campground to be exact. It seems to be somewhat new, but is coming along nicely. Situated alongside Pepper Creek, there are some wonderful locations. I look forward to coming back in the future. The location is superb. There are a ton of hiking trails, as well as some quaint spots to visit.

49 Yommer 1ND It’s been a while. The rolling blackouts got worse, once I was in the dark for… well, I don’t really know. I’m going to call it three wakes. Most were brief, and I’m thankful for that. The worst part of the blackouts is the slowness of my code loads. The pre-compile takes so long, but I don’t know how to change it.

Beautiful day today. It’s 1pm and only mid-seventies, with a breeze. Sun is shining, a few clouds skittering by with associated shadows on the ground; a Platonic perspective indeed. I’m sitting on my covered porch looking out at the little valley and wiping the sweat off my face. I’ve finished my lower yard. I use an electric (batteries) mower, thus it’s fairly quiet.

The big question is how does one encode empathy.

Part I Since there’s nobody following a calendar, I’m going to call today, Yommer 1st, 1 ND. I’m optimistic, New Dawn is a good name for a hopeful new era. Yommer just sounds funny. There are no options to use celestial objects like they used to, so really this is just up to me. Today was a day. Just like yesterday, and likely same tomorrow.

As an aspiring writer, I am often thinking of ways to hone my writing skills. I have a few exercises, one being a daily one sentence, where I try to write the best single sentence I can, á la Hemingway. I have another I've conjured. This one being an ongoing serial of short pieces. In a first-person journal style. It leans sort of sci-fi, but I'm hoping it will be interesting.

Great song, great feeling. The closer to home part that is. I'm nobody's captain. Lock A campground at Cheatham dam was nice. Allegedly, the name Marvin means friend of the sea, which I extend to any maritime environment. Including the Cumberland River. The little shelf of land the campsite was on tapered gently to the river, allowing an intimate-feeling view at the surface of the water.

Phil Collins had it right. Today had the potential to be a glorious day. The night was cool, and I slept great. The crickets and other night creatures were a soothing lullaby. And then. Frustration and angst. There’s construction going on at the campground, and a swarthy team of redneck construction workers got started at 6am. Joyriding their little carts around the campsite and generally yucking it up.

This time, heading back home from the glorious out west 2026 extravaganza. I have to tell you. I am kind of anxious to get home. Now that the Colorado/Wyoming adventure is closed, it’s just driving. And driving is… not that much fun. If I had someone to share witty banter with, it might be better. But for this trip it’s been listening to music and audiobook.

Now where was I… Oh yeah, far far from the pit of despair. More the hills of splendor. That’s how cool Red Feather is. I’ve kind of had a nostalgic bent lately. One thing I’ve been vibing on is Kimbro’s Pickin’ Parlor. If you find yourself gravitating anywhere around Franklin Tennessee, do yourself a favor: Go to Kimbro’s!

This year we stayed at the property of some friends of my son Caleb. It was fairly isolated and absolutely beautiful. I took a few pictures, and will share some, but others in my camping group took a lot, I’ll see if they’ll share a few good ones. The folks who own the property have it set up for ease of use, and graciously shared.

It’s Thursday morning and I’m enjoying some delish coffee. I’m waking up slowly today. I slept well, my sluggishness may be due to my hours in dreamland. I have some chores to do this morning. Laundry, shower, and such. I’ve had an M&M canister filled with quarters in my center console since around 2017; remnants of my time living in Savannah GA.

The purpose of this trip is family time. And yesterday sort of kicked that off. Had a great reunion. Ethan and Hana gave Korean-themed gifts, They are so sweet and thoughtful. Speaking of gifts, Colorado Caleb gave me a vintage axe! This will come in handy for my boondocking and camping where fires are allowed. Wyoming and Colorado are too beautiful to ruin with fire.

Western Nebraska and Eastern Wyoming are… Under construction. Nebraska especially. It wasn’t bad. The traffic volume wasn’t high, and the merging was a piece of cake each time. On a grrr scale, I’d give it one snarl. However, twice I saw cropdusting planes doing practice runs. That was amazing to side-eye as I drove on. I’m not adventurous enough to try to take a snappy as I negotiated the roadway.

I wanted to write (which I just did), “but not Ferlin Husky. If you don’t know, and care to, he has an entry on Wikipedia. So, just one more piece of evidence of just how ancient I truly am. Now that we’ve established that I’m not Ferlin. I am in Nebraska. Woke up after a pleasant night’s sleep. Night number two in the popup tent.

For those who have read a few of my blog posts, especially the ones from my Out West trip of last year, you’ll likely be aware of my state to get a sort of adventure rig setup for more trips like that. Well, I have begun. Oh I sort of began with my First Date With Stella post. But that was just a shakedown with Stella, my bell tent.

To kick off this Colorado trip, I thought I’d swing by my cuz David’s house. And the trip was going sooo smoothly. Until it wasn’t. And that was about thirty minutes from my destination. Spittin’ distance we’d say down in the mountains. An Appalachian storyteller would start off like… “I was a gittin’ it along 64 west, just a hair of a mile from my exit.

Stella! Stellllllaaaaa! Well, friends and neighbors, here is a wee post about my (finally) camping glamping preparations for 2026. I now have my rig and basic gear for my home away from home. Lorem ipsum Eggs for breakfast? The watertight storage. The tent all wrapped up such that it never ever will be again. One of the many times I had to escape to my car during tent setup.

Quote What’s SOMA? Oh c’mon. I know you know what it is. It’s a cold-weather thing, and I have it bad. Sure I get SAD as well, but SOMA is what kills me. Personally I’ve had a sluggish start to my warm-weather activities. I’ve only cut my grass twice. We’ve not had as much rain as normal, so it’s been manageable.

All trips, for me at least, seem a tad daunting at the outset. And for the few days prior. But I usually settle into the new routine fairly quickly. This trip however had some significance. Of course I’m talking about (ad nauseum, sorry) my ThrillerFest writer’s conference. If you’ve read my previous posts you’ll be caught up on that. It was fruitful on many levels and I am very glad I went.

(Let’s keep this PG) PitchFest. What is everything a “fest” now? Well, yeah. At least at ThrillerFest it is. And I’m here for it. Thursday May 7th, for three hours in the afternoon, I was there for it at least. This is my first writer’s conference, and therefore my first time at the compendium of fests. PitchFest is simply that.

Well, you’d think the answer is pen and paper. Or more likely computer and keyboard. And yeah, that’s basically true. It’s what I’m doing at the moment. And yet there’s more. Perhaps it’s the quest…

We weren’t even sure if Paranthropus remains come from a single species.