spring house progress

i got a week off last month and decided to put in the new french doors, windows, insulation, and board and batten at the house in mtn city, tennessee

dredging the calcasieu river

i worked on a dredge boat in southwest louisiana as a endangered turtle observer it was incredibly boring living offshore for three weeks at a time but it was a good introduction into americas oil economy and extraction

team mango delirium

two little dorks: this is alec the funniest little fella ever invented. im his protege.


mission: organized chaos


sampling team (mango delirium): erica santana, leah murphy, craig tolliver, chris grant, jd smith


sampling spartina marshes for determine the health of the wetlands.


matted oil on mangroves


one of our crew, jd smith, gave up a life as a national recording artist from nashville to be around his family more. now hes in louisiana working away from his family, go figure. anywho every night we would be serenaded by him while drinking beers

what im listening to

a northern irish band: two door cinema club - what you know



disco funk: fitz and the the tantrums - moneygrabber

redfish, bluefish, jazzfest, gluefish

jazzfest is a really neato festival with an amazingly eclectic mix of artists from bon jovi and kenny g, to kid rock and robert plant. the food is so yummy and like no other; we had cochon du lait (suckling pig) po'boy, cajun duck and bananas foster gelato.


my buddy, mike landry got backstage tickets so we got to watch rebirth brass band from behind the stage and out of the heat. i got to see michael franti and spearhead, some swamp grass, zydeco.


during our field days the captains of our boats fish for redfish (red drum) they let me reel this one in. ~30lbs.

me, erica santana(co-lead), ross our boat captain.

strange going-ons in cajun country

ive been working out of venice, the bottom of the boot


working in louisiana provides you with opportunities to see things not often encountered by most people;

exhibit A:

drive-thru daiquiris stores are a dime a dozen. providing responsible, thirsty drunks with road beverages. they are served with straws and protected by an impenetrable piece of scotch tape across the lid to deter people from consuming them on the road.


exhibit B:
blessing of the fleet. catholicism runs deep in cajun country. every season the oyster, crab, shrimp, fishing boats are decorated and parade up the bayou and are blessed by a priest to protect them. kinda cool.

incidentally the word 'cajun' is a bastardization of 'acadian' as in french-canadians from northern maine, nova scotia, and quebec who were kicked out of new england in the 1760's and found sanctuary in louisiana. if you say 'acadian' with a silly french accent enough it starts to sound like cajun. fun fact!!

another fun fact: cajuns call themselves 'coon-asses' its thought to be derogatory to some but commonly recognized in the same way as redneck.


exhibit C:
reasons why you dont throw fishing line in a body of water

the skull of a pelican that died of starvation bc of fishing line wrapped around the bill



exhibit D:
enough said


exhibit E:

crazy cajuns - gary o'brien, trina mullen, wayne billiot, alec richardson, austin magnant, aq (team 1


the gang


sampling


marsh assessment



trina and a elephant turd (biomass sample)


dudes


cool dude

easter break with the family at the coast of nc near new bern

new music

dalisoul - chipyango
ms. salley cessna a peacecorps friend from zambia brought this blockbuster from africa to my attention. apparently its a song about sweeping your house correctly and proper brooming techniques.




chemical brothers - do it again
this came out when i was in peacecorps its actually a pretty good portrait of morocco




band of horses - laredo
of their new album "infinite arms" (2010)




im going to go see the railroad revival tour, with edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros, mumford and sons, and old crow medicine show tonight in new orleans. the revival tour is a cross country tour with stops along the way at railroad towns culminating in new orleans tonight and leading into new orleans jazz and heritage fest (jazzfest).



edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros - home
super hippie-dippy but very groovy dudes!!!




mumford and sons - winter winds
not a huge fan but these song is exceptional

testing

i heard about this test on npr it was created by a linguistics professor at unc chapel hill. the quiz asks you to answer questions on pronunciations and word usage to determine whether youre a damyankee or a good ol southern rebel. its fun and i reckon yall might just learnt sumthing 'bout yo'self. i scored a 93% southern beat that!!!

are you a yankee or a rebel?

this one determines what level of white you are; from pasty to translucent

stuff white people like

im reading this book by malcolm gladwell, 'blink' about the importance of our subconscious in making decisions. he and the authors of 'freakonomics' have taken a scientific approach to explaining phenomenon we rarely think about consciously. there a link to a series of tests that expose unconscious preferences to everyday interactions; race, gender, sexual orientation, weapons etc... its interesting

harvard unconscious preference test

The art of art: arguing with idiots

Though a life at sea can be peaceful and enjoyable, providing plenty of time to think and reflect while staring out over a vast ocean for hours and hours and hours and hours. It is also an opportunity to work with a demographic that I don’t typically interact with in daily life at school. Guys that wear shirts like ‘january 2012; end of an error (with the o being the Obama logo)’ or ‘Change that you cant get a refund from’ or ‘Obama is a big dumb stupidhead guy.’ Our meals are accompanied by fox ‘news,’ discussions about which country we should ‘nuke’ next, and how obama is a “moooslam” (apparently a sect of muslims and islam). Recently I was trying to remember the name of a film about a graffiti artist named banksy, who is an anonymous artist that stencils controversial, social commentary images on the streets of London, things like guns with smiley faces and anarchists throwing molotov cocktails that are filled with flowers and replaces paintings in famous art museums with his own satirical work and watches as people admire them. I was stumbling with the title when one of the mates jumped in “was it called ‘exit through the gift shop?”

“yeah that’s it. have you seen it?” i asked surprised.

“yeah it sucked.” he said.

“why?”

“that guy aint no artist. Any ol’ jackass can spray-paint some crap on the wall. I got a buddy that can draw a picture so good you caint tell it from a photograph. Now that’s art.”

“Yeah but hes making social commentary on what we find normal in the world.”

“yeah but you can tell it’s a drawing, not like my buddy.”

“but isn’t art a way of portraying emotion or making a statement that makes people think?”

“yeah but my buddy can draw good pictures”

“what about the composition of what hes drawing?”

“compo-what?”

“or how about the other forms like symphony, theater, poetry, or ballet ..er bad example.”

“baalet? Are you one of ‘em pillow-bitin’ queers er sumpun?”

“no” I answered dejectedly “but youre right, obama’s a queer and banksy aint no artist. Hey by the way does your buddy sell any of his artwork I’d sure like to see them.”

I tried.

my worst job/best late night drinking story

THIS IS A VILE AND DISGUSTING STORY: READER BE WARNED

ive had enough bad jobs over the years to make mike rowe proud; bojangles chicken ‘n’ biscuits cashier/toilet janitor (fired twice), bat guano (poop) scrapper in massachusetts, trash can cleaner at the Poor Hygiene and Hard Drug Music Fest 2009 in florida, RV toilet emptier extraordinaire in Alaska, bird butt q-tip swabber in alaska, waist-high-swampy-mud bird nest checker in florida, and most recently dredgeboat sludge sea turtle part sorter in Louisiana. But by far the worst was as a deckhand on a whale watching boat out of bar harbor, maine. I went with the impression that I would be a naturalist on a boat explaining marine ecology and identifying birds, whales, and other wildlife. Reading over the position description in small letters it read ‘assisting seasick passengers’ “oh I thought handing out dramamine and calmingly telling people it will be ok.” In reality the position was something far more ‘hands-on.’

Our ship was a 3 level, 140’ catamaran with a capacity of 300+ passengers. Every morning I would rise early and make my way to the docks, passing a line of cheerful customers from exotic places like tickhaven, iowa, mooseknuckle, south dakota, babyblanket, Alabama, skidmark, texas, and myrtle beach, south carolina. Since we guaranteed* seeing whales (*or the 20 dolphins loophole) we were the most popular game in town, meaning we had bucktoothed families, senile grandparents, math book wielding Asians, sullen teenagers who were told they were going to Disneyland maine, and the parents of the rock group Live! (true story). After taking their tickets the giggling customers would pile on and inevitably head for the galley and immediately stuff their faces with nachos, chili cheesedogs, pizza, cocoa, and any other diary based products they could carry. As the passengers came by our crew we placed bets on the outcomes of certain guests. Occasionally a cute girl would give you a smile, oblivious of her soon to be discovered fate. After safety announcements of “shut up, sit down, don’t run with scissors, don’t tattle-tell, and don’t touch your sister/brother or I’ll turn this ship around” we were off. Our troops readied themselves for the initial assault: rubber gloves; check, paper towels; check, barf bags; check, disinfectant spray; check. Outside the harbor the first light swells began to roll in gently and ruddy faces magically turn to a greenish hue and then it’s on. Like a herd of wildebeest its always the young and the weak that are first to go. “we got bogeys!! Keep in formation boys!!” a coworker screams “watch your right flank, two coming in hot and heavy!” I yell as a large man reexamines his breakfast burrito and double chili bacon cheeseburger with relish on the table in front of him. passing him a barf bag I ask “please go outside sir the fresh air helps.” At any given time we would have ⅔ of the boat puking their guts out. Im not good at math but that’s 200, previously happy people instantly at the depths of humanity and begging for death. Oh yeah and that cute girl, she pulls her head out of a barf bag long enough to try a fainthearted grin exposing a piece of spinach from her morning’s omelette. “only 4 more hours guys!” I said cheerfully. People offered a thousand dollars on a number of occasions if we would return to shore.

My worst experience came when an elderly woman motioned me over to the booth where she was sitting. Wow, it smells really bad over here. I thought as she looks up at me and mouths something barely intelligible. “can ‘ou ‘elp ‘e find my ‘entures?” she says. “holy snikees!!! You lost your dentures? Where are they?” I ask. “’n a ‘arf ‘ag ‘n da ‘rash can.” I reluctantly move over to the trashcan and begin to squeeze a 55 gal rubbermaid trashcan worth of barf bags. “da da” like timmy in the oatmeal pit who gets to drink from the fire hose (UHF ala weird al) I produce the winning bag and deliver it to the grateful old lady. She immediately gets up to go to the bathroom when I notice the source of the malodorous stench; the old gal had it coming out both ends.

Free advice to all landlubbers: take Dramamine for your benefit and that of the crew.

I warned you it was a vile and disgusting story but you read it anyway. May you have horrible nightmares tonight.

lord of the pigs

gasping for air, piggy lay facedown on the sandy shore of brokenwind island, beside him lay the remnants of his steve urkelesque spectacles. He tried awkwardly to replace them on his chubby face but bent and broken they resembled the ones he wore in his 6^th grade yearbook photo. His recent portliness being a product of the sedentary lifestyle he has been living as an “observer” on the once thought-to-be unsinkable u.s.s. cinatiT. Piggy rolls over onto his blubbery haunches to survey his surroundings. A long sandy beach stretches as far as the eye can see, which is littered with a number of the ships’ survivors. He is distracted by something washing up to his feet “ooooo a bacon buttered cheeseburger bagel with extra bbq baconbits.” the other survivors can wait he thinks and produces a mayonnaise packet from his pocket that he has begun carrying at all times. with the dexterity of a malnourished wolverine he shovels the burger in his slobbering mouth while simultaneously squirting the mayo down his gullet; a glob of squeezey cheese lands on his t-shirt that reads ‘mayo; proof god loves us.’ “Aaahhhhh much better” he groans and struggles to stand but after a number of attempts, resigns to roll down the beach instead.

The first shipmate he comes upon is neB, the crews favorite dwarf and resident NASCAR / MMA aficionado, who hails from BugZap, Mississippi. “’ay da, ‘em glada see jou boi dang” piggy’s slow, saltwater soaked mind takes a moment to comprehend this but then remembers that lil’ neB only speaks southern Mississippian. “I’m glad to see you too neB. What happened to the boat, it just happened so fast” “dang blast ‘t wod hapin boat dun brok dang cuz” piggy had arrived on the boat weeks earlier in fairly good health, but over the last few weeks, before his body mass index swallowed the chart, he had noticed that the boat had begun to sit lower and lower in the water. The crew blamed it on global warming (more water=lower boat height) but a thought squeezed its way through piggys gelatinous brain “arrgh me thunk it be me eat many fud” hey hey wait brain, that kind of thinking gets you no where piggy thought dismissively. He then picked up neB and put him on his back saying “just dig your lil’ beanie weenie fingers into my ample neck fat and hold on, lets find the others.” “gud thanken’ boss u be rel smrt, me like u” replied neB.

Further down the beach they came to the one they call vlad pooting, the russian. big as an ox and dumb as a waffle iron, vlad is the embodiment of rocky IV’s arch nemesis ivan drago, complete with flat-top fade and broken cliché villain talk “me brrrreak you like bowl kittens and jello.” He also had a strange obsession with digital clocks, which was important to feign interest in, if you didn’t want to be “crrrrrrusted like baby sea squid.” “oh tell me about that one ivan….err I mean mr. pooting (snicker, snicker)?” “yessss favorite of me. biiig numbers, shiny colorrrr, grrrrreat snooze button.” “wow, and that one in the corner?” “amirican shit, me crrrush like coconut cupcake” he spat and involuntarily slammed his fist through the 3” thick porthole window. He was a great ally to have on the island if we are to survive. The three of them headed on down the beach.

Off in the distance came a sound that they all knew too well; the sound of flatulence and immediately realized evaD the lovable, mindless imbecile from Mudflap in northern Louisiana had survived. evaD was always heard before seen by making fart noises with his mouth, whether answering questions or expressing emotion, fart noises was his chosen method of communication*. Cheerfully, evaD appeared from under a bush whimpering with sea urchin spines sticking out from around his mouth like a pincushion. “splat poot fart“ “evaD, are you ok?” piggy asked, bending down to help him up. Without warning neB leapt from piggys back and began gnawing out evaD’s kneecap. “POoooot” he sputtered in pain. Piggy reached down and plucked neB from evaD’s knee and instantly remembered the age-old bad blood between northern Louisianans and southern Mississippians; once so close in language and culture but separated now by their diametrically opposed views on chevy and ford trucks. “flibbity, flabbity, gibberty let me at ‘em, dang” cried neB. “splattt, pooot, droppp” retorted evaD as Vlad restrained him with an extended arm against evaD’s forehead like an older brother, while evaD flailed and kicked. Speaking both their languages Piggy told evaD “no, I promise neBs had all his shots and no you cant get diabetes from a dwarf bite.” After a timeout and the threat of being put on restriction from tv during the Talladega race both parties calmed with the occasional snort and/or toot.

*truthfully I wish this were a joke, I cant make this stuff up

“we must keep moving to try to save the others” piggy urged. the motley crue pressed on under the oppressive heat of brokenwind island. The party walked along the beach until they reached the windward edge of the island and the coastline became a series of jagged rocks and cliffs. A distinct gurgling sound came emanating from an inaccessible sea cave below, piggy had heard that sound before and it brought back traumatic memories. Once on a midnight snack run to the ship’s pantry he had stumbled upon dribbles, the cook, snuggled in a sams club sized bag of Cheetos with his pants at his ankles, rubbing icing on his distended santa belly. He knew, albeit painful, he must save this poor creature. thinking quickly he remembered that he had stowed away some last reserves of easter peeps and butter buddies and began working macguyver-like on a plan. Sewing the peeps together with fruit roll-ups, he built a mattress and rubbed the butter along the bottom to help it glide over the dangerous rocky cliff. Though it pained him greatly to use his last snack supplies he knew dribbles needed them. Cautiously he approached the precipice and was instantly rocketed down the slope atop the Peeper-Pad™, which broke his fall with a thud. Peering into the darkness he noticed two dull, droopy, slightly stupid orbs peering out sheepishly. As he approached the quivering figure, he recognized dribbles’ distinctive belly, deeply crossed eyes, and greasy bubbles at the corners of his mouth. Dribbles cowered shivering in the back of the cave clutching a KFC slop bowl® with a glob of mashed potatoes, corn and gravy dripping down his chin and muttering soft coos of semi-conscious happiness and fear. “easy little fella, im not gonna hurt ya” piggy said calmly. “hes gonna come >slurp< back” gurgled dribbles. “Whos coming back?” piggy replied “king rolyaT, the terrible one. He will >burp< kill us all, I cant leave >plop< the cave or he’ll get me and all my delicious Hamburger Howie Hot pockets, Baby Buster Bacon Balls, Dixie Darling Doughnut Drops and Krispy Krusty Krackly Kracker Kakes” “its ok, we’re here to save you. Lets get out of here we’ll protect you. we have a russian for gods sake.” try as he might piggy couldn’t get baby huey to his feet and settled on boarding him like a life raft and floating to the beach, which was actually quite comfortable. Back on land, dribbles was shifty like a cornered badger, constantly scanning the beach with his googly eyes like those found on elementary school sock puppets.

Night fell on their little camp and dribbles was no less antsy, “hes coming, hes coming.” they were startled from their slumber by an eerie fog that crept in on little cats feet, and bolted upright to see the profile of a massive figure standing on the bluff above them outlined by a full silver moon and further shaken by a diabolical cackle. “shriek” they shrieked. “ahhhh who you be dang?” neB cried “who am I? who am I you ask” replied the shadow “yeah that’s what he said already” piggy shot back feigning courage and a little bravado. “tis I, king >dun dun dun< >thunderclap< rolyaT, and you are my loyal subjects” squeaked the voice. “come out of the shadows please its really hard to see you, your majesty.” Slowly the figure stepped forward; getting smaller and smaller and smaller until at last they could make out a pintsized man. This miniature napoleon stood with hand tucked into his jordache buttondown tshirt, pressed black Gitano military BDU slacks, tiny neon Velcro zips and a mickey mouse pocket watch; the perfect catalog model for the JCpenny kids dept. Though his reign had only lasted 3 hours he governed with an iron, albeit tiny and adorable, fist. his diminutive stature was a result of a regimented diet of celery, protein shakes, and bagel bites, but that didn’t retard is outsized authoritarian rule. He and his first lady had pledged to fight a war on junk food in their kingdom and would stand for no one to defy their will. “I demand you dispossess yourself of any and all refined sugary snacks including but not limited to: tiny tims’ texas toasted taco tater toppers, sam smothers’ slippery slidey slime sliders, charlie chaplan’s crud covered cocoa candycorns, and of course absolutely NO dilbert dawkins diary dipped dragon-drawn goofballs or else.” “ha You and vhich arrrmy?” snorted Vlad pooting. From behind king rolyaT, stepped 6 massive Kappa Sigma Alpha Delta force meatheads each holding a bottle of kiwi mango strawberry Muscle Milk. “youll never take our freeeeeeeedom, let ‘em have it boys.” yelled piggy as the motley crue began throwing snack cakes at the kappas, striking the king in the forehead “WATCH OUT, incoming empty calories!!!! Full retreat, meatheads.”

Oh how the motley crue cheered and danced the night away around the campfire to celebrate their victory (well not really danced on account that they began huffing and puffing after a couple of shuffly steps). “they’ll be >squirt< back” dribbles croaked.

First, Vlad was walking through the forest looking for things to break when he saw something sleek and shiny purple hanging from a tree. on closer inspection he discovered the most beautiful knockoff adidas track suit a Russian had ever seen and as he stepped forward he fell into a giant pit of fat free, organic, extra firm tofu, never to be seen again.

Next neB was heading down to the shoreline to flip sea turtles on their backs, when he was distracted by a suspicious envelope that lay in the sand. He cautiously opened it to reveal a pair of upper level tickets to the lynard skynard and white snake reunion concert at the caldwell county fairgrounds. “flipping heck blast it dang” and immediately died of a cardiac arrest due to overjoy.

evaD set out to poke things in the eye with a stick when he saw something so amazing he couldn’t resist gravitating to it. There in the middle of some leaves lay the most beautiful thing he ever done seen: a shiny metal toaster and a pile of pretty pebbles. From above fell a well-balanced diet of fruits and vegetables that immediately crushed evaD with a wide grin across his face.

Dribbles was nibbling his way through a king sized marvin “the middle-aged meanie” milboogers’ musty malty meatball milkshake bar, when he choked on a cucumber slice that had strangely found its way into his candybar. Unbeknownst to him he was allergic to vegetables and died of anaphylactic shock.

Alone and afraid, piggy heard a chant growing louder and soon made it out to be “kill the pig, get his sugar, let them eat carrots.” Cutting left and right, piggy ran frantically into the forest away from the ever closer cries of the kappa sigma delta beta gamma meatheads, “kill the pig, down with high fructose corn syrup, balanced diet, plenty of exercise, and healthy lifestyle choices.” Quickly approaching from the left he sees krang, the vice president and number one mean guy, who throws a sharpen celery that nicks piggys tubby knees and spills grape jelly. Injured and frightened, piggy struggles jumping over roots, ducking under branches, and running for his life.

“He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher. Then he was down, rolling over and over in the warm sand, crouching with arm to ward off, trying to cry for mercy. He staggered to his feet, tensed for more terrors and looked up at a huge peaked cap. He saw white drill, epaulettes, a revolver, a row of glit buttons down the front of a uniform. A naval officer stood on the sand, looking down at ralph… err I mean piggy, in wary astonishment.”

“Fun and games?” the officer asked. Piggy shook his floppy head. “Who’s the boss?” asked the officer. Piggy looked up “tony danza…. Just kidding I am.”

With filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, piggy wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called dribbles.

crazy fiery deepwater horizon

i got these pictures from guys on the boat who were on the BP deepwater horizon spill from the beginning. to the see the size of one of the ultra-deepwater, semi submersible drill platforms is unbelievable. they are 320 ft tall and to think it sank boggles my mind.

satellite images of the extent of the spill

apr 20th the rig exploded and these pictures are from the 20th, 21st and 22nd when it sank to 5000 ft below the sea

the fire was doused with thousands of gallons of water to no avail. guys said the fire was so hot on the response boats that paint was melting and dripping around them.

they told me they would constantly hear explosions as sealed, thick metal hatches would pop like popcorn.

amazing

going

going

gone

then the massive cleanup response began

discoverer enterprise in the middle was one of the drill ships working on the relief well and rov (remotely operated vehicle), at times hundreds of boats in a 1 mile radius

discoverer enterprise, burning off methane

drill ships

skimming boom deployed

dispersant was dropped in unprecedented amounts

the good stuff

this floated up a couple days after the rig sank, its a eerie reminder that 11 men died

tired and oiled cattle egret

oil response

this is the m/v discoverer enterprise one of the ships that drilled the relief well near the deep water horizon well head. we follow the 800ft ship around and if any oil is seen around the ship we deploy a boom and suck it up, fortunately they havent seen oil since oct.

this is the response boat with m/v discoverer enterprise in the distance.