h. Play

That’s a good article about the issues with building today.

He has a one-liner:

The combination of consumer tastes, low dollar value per volume building components, and the complexity of buildings inhibit efforts to scale.

The solution screams 3D printing. Consumer tastes and building complexity? You can print whatever shape you want AKA we can print your weirdest ideas, no problem. The issue here is local code and zoning (even in the 1940s FLW had issues with cities to build flat roofs because it was simply disliked; it hasn’t gotten much better since).

Low dollar value per volume building components? Sure, but in the case of a prefab, this is all combined. If a 3D printing factory scales up, it will incorporate those tiny savings and they will show up in a few % off the total price. It is an enormous issue otherwise, true.

Any complex attempt at prefab or modular, including by Toyota itself, has failed to reach any significant market share.

That’s mostly because it’s been very badly marketed out there. If you told people “buy a prefab house that fits your lifestyle, costs you $80-$100 a year to cool and heat, doesn’t need any specific maintenance ever and where you can go on your green roof to chill; you can move in in a month”, trust me, that shit would fly off the shelves. Put my broke ass on the waiting list, bro.

If prefab is used to build the usual classic, super not efficient house, then prefab is obviously useless. (for those who don’t know, the two massive advantages of prefab: almost no waste compared to a classic construction site; you can make an air-tight house, which allows extremely low needs in heating/cooling, which is crucial to sustain good housing)

The article is about single-family homes. I don’t think building cheap multi-family triplexes is great, as it calls for murders between folks and their thin “low-cost” walls. I do think that considering how societies are moving, we need the ability to build smaller houses for singles and couples without kids.

We need a way more modular way of building housing because we are way more modular in life too.

This store clerk this morning was coming down the aisle while I was grabbing a bag of cheese and as I was looking in his direction, he slapped a pack of water bottles like he was in the club.

Slapped, lowkey grabbed and had a little grin on his face. The Stripper Special.

I know man. It’s a lot of juicy packs of water around.

So, if this book tells the truth about how empathy is biologically mostly wired in us,

And that today we have almost 3,000 billionaires who can’t possibly spend the money they have in their entire lives, and are exploiting hundreds of millions of us to hoard said money, excuse me but,

The Fisheye lens never gets old.

I remember watching Insta clips of skateboarders back in the 2010s, wondering why I felt like some were not really exciting without knowing exactly why. Baby, they were missing the wide angle!

The fact that it shows as much as possible with the least distortion possible makes my minmaxing mind very happy.

It also constantly reminds me that the planet is round, open and goes in every direction. The Fisheye lens keeps screaming f r e e d o m everywhere it looks at. It’s exhilarating to me.

It’s also very dynamic with distances fluctuating rapidly through the frame from edges to center.

Horizontally,

Vertically,

It’s the bounce to me.

Now that decent wide angles and fisheye-ish lenses are built in phones, let’s see how long it takes for me to get sick of it.

Status hierarchies are, of course, designed to create inequalities. Status is about rankings and the claiming of authority over others. Every society establishes various boundaries of exclusion. A highly stratified society generally is low on empathetic consciousness because such societies are segmented between so many status categories that the ability to empathize beyond one’s own group, both up and down the hierarchy, is limited.

We are segmented as hell and it’s actually kind of “in” to segment life even more these days. Which means even less empathy and well, we directly see this every day: people show less and less compassion, it seems. Segmentation nurtures a lack of tolerance which reinforces segmentation.

Oral consciousness relies on hearing, while script consciousness relies on sight. This difference alone accounts for the profound change in human consciousness that distinguishes a written culture from an oral one. Hearing is the most internalizing of the senses. While touch, smell, and taste also penetrate the interior of one’s being, hearing is a more powerful experience as anyone who has ever enjoyed music knows so well. Hearing is a deeply participatory experience. It engulfs. One can immerse oneself in sound.

Vision, by comparison, is the least intimate and most abstract of all the senses. Sight isolates and dissects. As St. Louis University professor emeritus Walter Ong observes: “A typical visual idea is clarity and distinctness, a taking apart…. The auditory ideal, by contrast, is harmony, a putting together.”

I mean, wow. It makes so much sense. It makes one think about the hundreds of hours per month —and increasing— of us using our vision instead of listening to each other. Texting is conversational but it’s still vision. It’s still about dissecting instead of putting together, isn’t it? It’s not all bad, as sight allows for reading, which allows oneself to have thoughts and hear her/his/their own inner voice.

As usual, we need both in a balanced way but thanks to Big Tech, we super over-indulged with vision. The dance between all those actors (groups, societies, companies) and our primary senses fascinates me.

(The book is The Empathic Civilization by Jeremy Rifkin)

It was the first crowd ever since March 13th. This was the closest I had been to anyone outside the house and my neighbors. This dog was happy to see people! I kind of wanted to steal it but I heard it’s wrong, so.

It’s like:

LeBron James: “WatchThisWatchThis”

Chris Paul: “I… Is that a shooting form?”

James Harden: “Hell I hope I don’t look like this”

Nikola Jokic: “Oh boy”

Anthony Davis: *speechless*

They also all look like looking in the direction of the hoop except for Ben? tsksktsktsktstksktstkstkskt

I see a lot of noise around journaling these days. I hear people say that they keep a private journal.

While there’s nothing wrong with that, it doesn’t add as much as you think it does. I believe that writing something and knowing that anyone can read that, will make you face whatever you face with a lot more seriousness and honesty.

I’ve been writing online for 15+ years now. I’ve written privately. It’s usually unreadable! You just moan, not even trying to build sentences. Why for? It’s just for you. But then, what’s the point? Posting a sad picture isn’t cutting it. There is no catharsis besides telling yourself “I put it down”.

Except that you didn’t. It’s still lingering in your head.

Writing publicly means that you need to make sense. You kind of need to make it appealing, even if no one reads it. You need to go through your arguments, angles, self-pity etc. And you need to cook all that at the right temperature. But this is where catharsis happens.

I just wrote about adoption, as if I was explaining to someone what I’m going through. I try to explain it, not dwell on it. That’s the positive of writing publicly: it pushes you to extract what is interesting, the essence, of what’s going on. In this example, I try to convey how having a foster family and a family after all those years feels like, and that it’s okay to feel how I feel.

Not only this helps me push the bluesy clouds in my mind away, someone in this world, tomorrow or in five years might stumble upon my post and reflect on his/her/their life. Adopted or not.

And that’s too me, so much worth the effort to go public. You help yourself and someone else. Without commerce in between. We need that.

It makes me smile being told that my foster mom, who lives alone in the house I grew up in, refused to have anyone go through the small driveway gate since the pandemic started. She would stand on her balcony and yell at people to drop whatever they wanted to drop and to leave. This cracks me up because I can see and hear her.

I guess it’s Easter and we’re on her couch with my cousins. ‘better not squirm on that thing.

I also know that if I was doing a surprise visit to her right now, she would barely ask about vaccination and let me in.

With some of her kids, grandkids, grand grandkids around, she has become a little bit of a tyrant, so I’m told. I understand. She raised us all and she’s now older and can’t drive. She needs help and she demands it.

I also understand everyone being fed up. I’m 10,000 miles away, she can’t reach me on the phone. When the US president farts though, she immediately asks my cousin who lives half a mile away from her if she had a hold on me recently, how am I doing etc.

My cousin is telling me that nothing has changed. My baby blue skateboard is still probably in the garage, at the same spot that it’s been for 35+ years. It is both a frightening and lovely fact.

When I tell my parents what’s going on in the foster family, they’re always looking kind of hurt. They know I love them to death and they wonder if they compare. Love is thankfully limitlessly expandable. Most people know the rhetoric, I am immerged in the praxis.

It’s complicated as hell though. A maze of relationships and history where I’m the only one having access to all of them.