Once again I prepare to close my eyes and wake up in another country. Carrying a backpack with little else save for my new digital Leica, a few pens, and a journal. Back to the desert, to ruins of history, to Israel.

Life is better than fiction.

Last Saturday, around midnight, I started a train of thought that kept me busy for a bit…

FourSquare celebrated Four Squared day on April 16th, because 4^2 = 16. Each day is a numerical day of the calendar year. For example, January 1st is the 1st day of the year. December 31st is the 365th day of the year. This lead me to ask is there ever a day where the value of the day squared equals the value of the month squared?

It is apparent that this happens only when the day and the month have the same number. So outside of the 1st of January (D = 1, M = 1, meaning 1 ^ 2 = 1 ^ 2, this never happens. And if you want to get technical, they don’t because they’re two parabolas increasing at different rates.

• Day of the year (D) = x + 1
• Month of the year is very roughly M = D / 30
• D ^ 2 = M ^ 2
• D ^ 2 = (D / 30) ^ 2

That lead me to ask another question: how many days would need to be in a year before the square root of the day of the year is equal to the month squared? Since it is obvious that this will require more than twelve months, I am officially defining all months after the 12th month as always having 30 days. And later we’ll be presuming that days are always equivalent to Earth days.

• D ^ (1/2) = M ^ 2
• (x + 1) ^ (1/2) = ((x + 1) / 30) ^ 2
• When graphed we get an intersection at (92.216975, 9.6548)
• 92.216975 months * 30 days per month = 2766.50295 days = ~2766 days

We can celebrate this day on any planet that has an orbit of at least 2766 days. Specifically, we want to celebrate on the 6th day of the 92nd month. And as a side note, the days of the 92nd month are the range of the 2,761st to the 2,790th days of the year.

Jupiter is the closest planet to the Sun that you could live on and celebrate this day we’ve been hunting for. It has a calendar year with at least 2766 days (specifically its orbit is 4,431.572 days, just shy of 12 years). An Earth year is 365.25 days and a Martian year is 686.96 days. Jupiter is the next door neighbor to Mars, so that should give you an idea of how far apart Mars and Jupiter are.

Next I wanted to know what distance does an object have to orbit the sun to celebrate this day? When we find this distance, we’re going to call this the Hardiman Orbital Distance. However, I really need to find two different values here, a theoretical distance and a practical distance. If you lived on a planet at this distance, after the first 12 months you’d then have 80 months in a row that have 30 days. Then the last month of the year would be 6 days long (this will be our theoretical number). I’m going to guess that those 6 days would be assimilated in to some of the prior months out of practicality, so I want to figure a full 30 day 92nd month as well (this will be our practical number).

Actual Hardiman Orbital Distance (AHOD) – The distance at which an object has to orbit the sun to have a 92.216975 month year.
Practical Hardiman Orbital Distance (PHOD) – The distance at which an object has to orbit the sun to have a full 92 month year.

Converted to days, we’re looking for:

• AHOD of 2766 days (92.216975 months)
• PHOD of 2790 days (exactly 92 full months)

Quickly to the astronomy equations! (Note: In the following equations p = period and a = semi-major axis)

A quick estimate in advance is that the AHOD and PHOD should fall within the range of the average distance of Mars from the Sun (1.38 AU) and the average distance of Jupiter from the Sun (5.2 AU).

• p = number of days the orbit takes / 365.25 days per Earth year
• p ^ 2 = a ^ 3
• a = (p ^ 2) ^ (1/3)
• a = p ^ (2/3)

AHOD = (2766 / 365) ^ (2/3) = 3.8580946 AU = 577,163,236 km = 358,632,608 mi
PHOD = (2790 / 365) ^ (2/3) = 3.8803797 AU = 580,497,042 km = 360,704,139 mi

Both values fall within the estimated range.

I want to celebrate this on Earth, so I need to know when every 2766th day occurs. Since January 1st, 1 A.D. to April 18th, 2011 there have been 734,610 days. I determined this using MySQLs TO_DAYS function.

• select TO_DAYS(’2011-04-18′);

The most recent Earth-equivalent of this day was the 265th celebration.

• 734,610 / 2766 = 265.585

The next Earth-equivalent day will be the 266th celebration, which will be the 735,756th day since January 1st, 1 A.D.

• 2766 * 266 = 735,756
• From MySQL: select FROM_DAYS(735756);

The next Earth-equivalent day will be on June 7th, 2014.

Final conclusions:

The technical name for the 2766th days is Meidiespenitus, which is Latin for “My Day Inside”.
The technical name for the 92nd month is Tuimater, which is Latin for “Your Mother”.
Therefore, on the 2766th day you can celebrate the “Your Mom” of astronomy jokes: “My Day Inside Your Mother” day.

Out of practicality, this day is called the Awesome Day or Hardiman-Deffenbaugh Day. And the Month is called Fennec, because Fennec foxes are awesome.

Actual Hardiman Orbital Distance is 3.8580946 AU.
Practical Hardiman Orbital Distance is 3.8803797 AU.

Any object with an orbit less than AHOD is known as Non-Awesome.
Any object with an orbit of AHOD is known as Partially Awesome.
Any object with an orbit of PHOD is known as Fully Awesome.

We can celebrate the next Awesome Day on June 7th, 2014.

I didn’t have a lot of time to post this week. After getting back from Tahoe last weekend, I entered in to a very busy work week with an equally busy social schedule. A recollection of what happened Monday evening has been blurred out by the rest of the week’s events. Tuesday evening we had company as our friends Tyler and Nic finally made it to the San Francisco leg of their trip. They’re making a slow migration from Oklahoma to Portland and visiting friends and family along the way. Wednesday evening I went to meditation, then met up with Tyler and Laura for dinner as Tyler crashed at our place for the evening. Thursday night I gathered with a small band of co-workers at the Rogue Public Ale House to play bar trivia. Thirty teams showed up to play, and we managed to take first place. The victory felt extra rewarding because we had to sit outside the bar and lean through windows to hear the questions. I took a chair from a hipster and found him quite nonthreatening.

In the summer there is a 3 day silent meditation retreat, and my interest in attending is rapidly growing.

This evening I arrived home, started laundry, and am about to pack for our trip to Puerto Vallarta tomorrow. In all, some crazy number of us (14?) are headed to Mexico for our friend Ryan’s 30th birthday party. Soon we’ll be in an infinity pool overlooking the ocean, drinking delicious beverages, enjoying the beach, and relaxing in the warmth of Mexico’s equatorial tourism. I’ve never been to Mexico, and this trip should be fantastic. I know very little useful information about Mexico:

• It is our southern neighbor;
• The boiling point of cocaine is 187 degrees Fahrenheit; 
• Nacho Libre;
• Drink bottled water; 
• Pancho Villa; 
• Conquistadors; 
• The Aztec’s were one of the few cultures to invent writing; 
• And a handful of phrases that translate in to helpful sentences such as “Because of me, your mother is in many pornographic magazines” and “No more libraries. Bring me red kittens and bicycles.”

Packing wise I’m not bringing a computer. Instead, the non-clothing non-essential objects are limited to: 2 pens, 1 journal, 1 book, and 1 camera. Technology is the enemy of efficient packing, and I’m striking it with a vicious blow on this trip.

We come back on Tuesday. Wednesday I start Arabic lessons. Thursday is something I won’t remember until 20 minutes before it starts. And Friday is back to Tahoe on the company ski trip. I never realize how busy I/we am/are  all the time until I stop to write it down. HOLY CRAP.

My friend Jeff created a website called PlayLookIt.com, which is a daily-photo scavenger hunt. Each day a one-word mission is given, and the players are tasked with capturing that mission in a single photograph from their mobile phones. The missions can vary, as can players interpretations of the word. For example, a few missions from last week included promise, six, and play. And on occasion the mission is a time, which means you capture a picture of what you’re doing at that moment. At this point there are quite a few players (you should go sign up) and the level of creativity and craftsmanship is getting very refined.

On Saturday the assigned mission was “3:01pm.” At that time I happened to be deciding which kind of soft serve ice cream to get (vanilla, chocolate, charcoal). Since it wasn’t an overly photogenic opportunity, I decided to spruce my submission up with some creative PlayLookIt fanfiction. Though I didn’t win, I felt I had made an admirable effort.

“We all screamed for ice cream. Then the proprietor became upset with us for yelling and disturbing the other customers. But none of us cared; we were drunk on root beer and high on sugar. Caramel covered the floor. Sprinkles had been loosed everywhere. And in this cash-only establishment between us we had no way to pay — two credit cards, $15 Canadian dollars, half a pack of Double Mint gum, four rounds of .22 ammo, and no gun.”

Quote:

Aleks: “Do you need a kitten?”

Regs: “No, I have a fear of commitment.”

 

I am working on a list of interesting and make-believe professions that I can claim during conversations. Inevitably during a conversation someone asks what my job is, and my choices are to run away, tell the truth, or makeup a more interesting profession. If I tell you I work in IT…

1. You also work in IT, and now you want to have uninteresting IT conversation with me because you lack conversational prowess. And I’m not at work and don’t particularly care that we have the same profession. If I enter a conversation with you, you won’t ever quit talking, and no one else can join that conversation unless they’re also in IT.
2. You know nothing about computers, and now you fear that I’m going to talk technology to you.
3. You immediately decide that I’m some socially awkward, manga watching, 4chan surfing, LARP enthusiast.
4. You’re not super smart, but now you fear I am and that you won’t understand my choice of vocabulary.

Once I tell you my profession, you’re not sure what to ask. Please, don’t be delusional or afraid. We IT people don’t want to talk to you about IT, because we’re not at work and because it is neither a good conversation nor an effective icebreaker. I’d rather converse about anything else: the invention of the Triscuit; whether cheese in a can is its own food group?; does eating bioluminescent sea life make your urine glow?; who the hottest Fanta girl is? (For the record, Purple is the hottest.)

Here are the professions I’ve come up with thus far:

1. Grizzly Bear Trainer – I’ve never been bitten or directly attacked, but I do have some gnarly scars.
2. Free Trade Coffee Pilot – I fly my twin turboprop airplane in and out of exotic South American locales landing on dirt airstrips to get the finest, fairest coffee for your favorite cup of coffee.
3. Submarine Tracker – I help the DEA hunt small submarines used to smuggle drugs along the Gulf Coast.

The key is that professions need to sound somewhat believable, offer easy questions for the other person to ask about, and allow me to easily provide answers that are realistic but not verifiable at that moment.

Do you have any suggestions for the repertoire?

This evening we saw an advanced screening of “No Strings Attached”. The movie is predictable and isn’t overly original, but it was terrible either. I expected an easy going movie with funny moments, and the movie met those expectations. The stereotypical roles of the leads were switched, with Natalie wanting no emotions in the relationship and Ashton wanting more. And the side characters weren’t bland, which helped keep me focused on the movie.

Wednesday must be a special evening on Market street, because in a one block stretch I encountered three different sets of street musicians. First I encountered two pianists, one piano. They alternated improvising songs, and I stayed long enough to listen to each pianist. The songs had a solid sound and held up well. Overall, quite a nice performance to stumble on to. Dedication is pushing a piano around the streets of San Francisco to earn meager tips from passers-bye. I can picture these guys riding on top of the piano as they speed down the hill of California street, sparks flying from under the piano, and their jackets swept back in the wind.

I’m always thankful to find a street musician who isn’t bucket drummer. The first time you see a bucket drummer, you’re interested. The second time, you’re bored. After that you’re ready for a pterodactyl to swoop down and devour the drummer. On my hierarchy of important people, bucket drummers rank last. The next time I see a bucket drummer, I’m going to offer him alcohol in return for his buckets because in the battle of who is better, an alcoholic or a bucket drummer, alcoholic is the way to bet.

Next I encountered Nellie Fitzgerald–solo, female guitarist. I recorded a minute of her performance, but the abundance of street sound ruined the audio of the video clip I took, so instead you’re getting a picture of her. Her sound reminded me of a toned down, sweeter PJ Harvey without the same vocal range. That is another way of saying “She’s got a unique sound.”

After the movie, I passed Nellie again and had to give her credit for still performing 3 hours later. The other musicians had long since vanished. That is either dedication or desperation, but I wish her the best of luck either way. At home I went to her website (http://nelliefitzgerald.bandcamp.com/) and discovered that you can download three of her tracks for free. Some people sound better live than in studio, and I think she sounded better live.

Lastly, I came across an odd band. I think there had been a real band here, but then vagabonds destroyed them in an epic street fight and stole their instruments. Shortly before I arrived the street must have been covered in spilled blood from the violent bindle fights. Then the victors took their spoils of war and formed a street band.

I didn’t have much concern for whether they were a legitimate group or not. They were obviously enjoying themselves, and they didn’t have a bucket drummer playing. One existed off to the side, but he must have been recovering from a pterodactyl attack. What do bucket drummers do when they’re not drumming? I imagine they go in to the city libraries and try to help people get books from high shelves.

 

True Story:

One summer afternoon I hopped in a car with friends to visit one of their friends. For the story’s sake, we’ll call the friend Jane. We arrived at Jane’s house, knocked on the front door, and she let us in. As we walked in our minds halted. Never in life had any of us dreamed that a person could knowingly live in such a degree of filth.

We’d all seen a messy room or a messy house, but this house had become a literal dump. If an inspector had visited the house, it would have been condemned in seconds. He’d have gone to the driveway, siphoned the gasoline from his vehicle, and lit the house on fire. 

Nothing in the house had ever been cleaned: the kitchen stank of rotten food, dirty dishes towered on every flat surface, flies busied themselves flying between the artificial metropolis crafted for them. At night the sound of roaches moving must have been audible. The trash had never been emptied and literally flowed from one room to the other. You could taste the dank musk in your mouth. To move betweens rooms one had to move through trenches a foot wide that were lined with feet of garbage, junk, magazines, rotted clothing, parts of machines and televisions and oddities, and on and on.

We awkwardly sat down on a few heaps in the living room that appeared to have furniture beneath them, and we chatted. As we talked, my friends and I in a desperate state to leave, Jane offered us each a piece of gum. I took my piece of gum, unwrapped it, started to chew it, and then without thinking waded the wrapper up and threw it on the floor. Jane in a burst of anger asked “Why did you throw that wrapper on the floor? Do you think this place is a dump or something?”

My brain didn’t know how to react. I was being questioned about cleanliness in a house that was so thick with filth that my automatic reflex was to throw trash on the ground. It was obvious that no one in the house had ever used the trash can, or cleaned, or picked up, or opened a window to let fresh air and sunshine in, so why should anyone else? I doubt that an actual garbage can was even in the house. All I could think was “What the fuck? YOU’RE the one asking ME if this place is a dump?”

In disbelief I picked up the gum wrapper and fibbed that “I chew a lot of gum when working at my computer desk, and I always just throw the wrapper on the floor. I always pick them up late. It is just a lazy habit I have. Sorry.” She bought the fib, and I asked what to do with the wrapper. And being given no answer, I placed it in my pocket. A few minutes later my friends and I manufactured an excuse to leave.

I’ve never been any place more disgusting, and I don’t think I’ve ever been caught more off guard. I will never forget how disgusted she was that I thew a wrapper on top of her filth.

I love what people will do. If you create the most basic object, such as a yoyo, or set a simple goal, such as balance this ball, someone out there will dedicate his time to it, and often his life to it. And in that time he won’t simply master the goal, but rather he will push it to a realm of skill and precision that no one ever would have foreseen.

Though the talents don’t serve many other purposes, they are a beautiful illustration of what our bodies are capable. Feats of strength, speed, skill, and unlocked potential that at times are almost providence. Your body is the greatest instrument you’ll ever own. And on a side note, I really want the “u” to come before the “r” in instrument.

People will…

 

Bend gravity:

Revolve Ski video

 

Master physics:

Yoyo Master Jensen Kimmitt, 2010 World Yoyo Contest

 

Become the fastest:

Crazy Asian kid at the Arcade

 

Fill the air:

Sterling Johnson on Stinson Beach

 

Create new sounds:

Qwerty Dvorak Whatnot

 

Or simply push their body to the limit…

Rhythmic gymnastic training in Russia

Yes, the title is inspired by Mad Gabs.

I finally watched the movie “The Human Centipede,” which is by far the most senseless action I have ever committed in my life. For those of you not familiar with the movie, it is about a lunatic surgeon in Germany who captures three people, then operates so that the captives are connected in an ass-to-mouth row, thus making a human centipede. A repugnant movie that has become a cult hit. To give you a box office figure, the opening weekend of the movie it only made $12,424. Out of the 280 million people in America, only around 1200 people actually paid to see the movie.

Whenever I’m subjected to a bad, stupid, or tasteless movie, book, or piece of art, I remember that art is subjective and that there are two important parts of art:

1. Whether the viewer likes the art or at least thinks it is important. 
2. Unrelated to the first, is the simple fact that an artist is out there creating. 

As my friend Chris is quick to point out “A lot of people look at a piece of art in a museum and say ‘I could have done this myself at home.’ But they didn’t.” Even when I see a piece of art I don’t care for, I appreciate the fact that artists are out there working, unless it is anything Michelle Citron worked on (a woman with a complete disdain for any art that isn’t her own).

There is an abundance of vulgar art in the world on any subject you wish (violence, sex, racism, Santa, rainbows), but “The Human Centipede” is the only movie I’ve ever seen and without hesitation known that there is nothing redeeming about it in any regard at any level. It isn’t the most graphically grotesque movie I’ve ever seen; it is just by far the stupidest and most tasteless.

Five minutes in to the movie I thought “Has there ever been a smart, good looking, non-vulnerable, female American tourist in a movie?” Thirty minutes in I thought “Anything else in the world would be a better and more pleasurable use of time right now. Life is limited, and I’ve destroyed 30 minutes of it watching this movie. Goodbye, movie. Hello, XKCD Volume: 0.” And I stopped watching.

I hate not finishing a movie, because it plagues my consciousness like a tell-tale heart. Over the next few days I finished the movie ten minutes at a time (ten minutes being the maximum amount of life I could bear to waste in any one sitting for this movie). When I finished the movie, I sighed in relief as my brain released the tell-tale heart of the movie. Then I realized that I’d disappointed Carl Sagan, which made me sad.

The thing I disliked most about the movie:

The director of the movie attempted to make the film medically accurate (which it is far from), but he didn’t take any time to make the movie’s setup believable — not even 5 seconds. See, it opens with two American girls getting directions to a German night club. Then they attempted to drive there. After they drive someone stupid distance out of the city in the rain and down a dark, secluded, forest road, they realize they’re lost and not anywhere near the nightclub. Most people would have noticed this once they left the city. Maybe the best German nightclubs are located out in the middle of the Dark Chocolate Forest? But I’ve been to several German nightclubs and none ever required driving in to a forest.

Here is a travel tip: If you’re driving to a destination and find yourself on a creepy road in the middle of a forest and you’re not on a geocaching trip, then you missed your exit.

Next the girls decide to get out of the car and trek through the forest in their high heels. Really? Now that is genuine stupidity. I’m a fan of girls in high heels and miniskirts, but no girl is stupid enough to do that. Apparently that is the most plausible setup the director and writers could think of, and as viewers we should all feel personally insulted. I’d give the movie more slack if they’d gone with anything more plausible, such as

• While hiking through the forest, the girls get lost.
• The girls, not trying to find a nightclub, simply get lost while driving to a nearby village.
• After getting high while watching Avatar, the girls went in search of the real Na’vi.

So aside from the critically poor taste of the director and the horrific idea of the script aside, I dislike the movie most of all because it makes the viewer feel insulted.