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Revision as of 03:06, 26 November 2018

claytoncastle.com T R A N S I T I O N


2018.11.11 Centenary of Armistice

It feels hard to believe that we have had 100 years of resolving to avoid the horrors of modern war.

There are many things that human society is very poor at learning. Remembrance of the wastefulness of violence is merely one of those things.

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2018.10.16 Marat / Sade

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LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!


2018.10.25 Desired Jerk

The derivative of position with respect to time is velocity.
The derivative of velocity with respect to time is acceleration.
The derivative of acceleration with respect to time is... jerk.

No, really. It's a physics term.

This was relevant to me as I was delighting myself driving GHOST to work this morning. Because, while it is true that GHOST's acceleration is awfully nice - and what gets measured by all the numbers-obsessed - it's the broad prowess to adjust that acceleration that really is a driving delight. Because that's what engaged driving is really about for me: control.

I'm not too bothered by the double entendre, either.


2018.10.21 Henry Rollins

Went and saw the Henry Rollins Slideshow Tour today with my favourite architect neighbor, Lori. While not the most thorough Rollins fan myself, I haven't witnessed anything he's done that I haven't at least respected. Lori had never heard of him. His songs take a certain mindset to enjoy, which I'm rarely in these days, but his spoken word is always entertaining to me - that is what we got to have for this show. Listening to his radio shows and podcasts do tend to be a bit wearying if you try to binge them; he has a lot of energy, and a sanctimoniousness that is low grade but cumulative. This show was just about the perfect dose of Rollins, however.

He warned us, right up front, that he was going to keep changing directions to keep us engaged. And that he did. It landed a few solid gut punches while also managing to share intimate facets that were simply lovely, all the while being delivered with delightfully self-deprecating humour. He showed us the world, his thoughts and hopes about that world, and how it reflected on him in such a way that let us reflect on ourselves.


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2018.10.07 Amateur Plumbing

This is really a tale about how I'm glad I have a cushy desk job instead of being a "skilled" labourer. But before I get into that, let's go back about a year. That's when the kitchen sink started leaking quite badly. A quick inspection suggested that it would be a pain in the ass, and I didn't have time to address it right away. So, in order to buy a couple days until the weekend, I tried wrapping the pipe in some cool hydrophobic tape I've got. It worked. A little too well. I had hoped that it would reduce the pour to a containable leak (a shallow bucket was appropriately situated). It completely contained the leak instead. Which meant that when the weekend came, and I got a better idea of how much of a pain in the ass it would be, I felt able to procrastinate. As more time went by, the more I felt complacent about the patch job.

Alas, even the coolest hydrophobic clingy tape can't hold a badly corroded pipe together forever. And this past Friday the leaking resumed. So Saturday was my day to finally address the fix properly. At which time, it becomes appropriate for a hypothetical flashback to the last time this was fixed - before we bought the house. Due to the extremely awkward location of the pipe, it is rather difficult to get leverage on a modest-sized pipe wrench that can fit in the space. Gazing at the deep gouge marks on the fitting, it's easy to imagine how ardently the previous plumber tried to dislodge it. Worse, looking at how the now-leaking pipe was crudely soldered onto the remains of the compression fitting, it becomes obvious that they gave up trying to get it out, and instead hacked off the old pipe and welded the replacement directly on. I also like to imagine that the previous plumber felt some quiet shame, for the mess that the next plumber would have to face when the thin-walled pipe they installed invariably rusted through.

While I could probably have managed to saw off the pipe in the same sort of way that the previous plumber did, I lack both the tools and the skills to braze, solder, or weld on a pipe in a leak-free manner. Plus, I'd much rather fix the pipe with some corrosion-free plastic. Thus I began my attempt to unfasten the fitting that the previous plumber had given up on.

It did not go well.

After five hours, I had managed to turn the damn thing just 15°. Admittedly, most of that time was spent with the fitting not moving at all. And 2 hours were spent nursing an array of self-inflicted wounds while watching the Matrix. The awkwardness of the location of the fitting prevented easy access to leverage. The confines and the elasticity of the plumbing meant that impacts had no effect in budging the pipe wrench. I nearly maimed my face several times trying to use a crow bar on the handle of the pipe wrench while jammed under the sink. Until finally I came upon a method of bracing bits of lumber as adjustable fulcrums to use a length of square bar to inch the pipe wrench along.

Once the fitting was out, it was a 10-minute trip to the local hardware store to buy $16 worth of parts, and a further 2 minutes to install.

Whatever pleasure I might have for accomplishing this trivial piece of plumbing, even though I overcame what the previous plumber seemingly left as a booby trap, is utterly drowned in the aching discomfort of it all. Craning and straining and slipping and smashing and accidentally banging in a confined space with unyielding surfaces sucks giant donkey balls. Yes, I used my cleverness to do something difficult. But I have the joy of getting to employ my cleverness every single day at work - at my comfy desk.

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2018.10.01 Ongoing Tesla Testing

More detailed exploration of the performance envelope of GHOST has revealed further insights.

  • The review mirrors are really quite puny. Makes for a nice low Cd, but I'd personally trade that for improved sensor capabilities over my shoulders.
  • GHOST might be lighter and more nimble-feeling than a Model S, but she's still a hefty girl. Momentum must be considered.
  • Further to that, stickier tires will be required. Mostly to improve turning and stopping; not that GHOST is a slouch at either, but rather to carve out more safety factor for my enthusiasm. Though it is rather entertaining feeling the whole chassis squirm under full thrust with the current shoes.
  • The turn stalk has a marginal flaw: the left "tap" sensor is mis-calibrated such that a simple triple-blink lane change is hard to get instead of continuous blinking.
  • Overall, this might be the exact right embodiment of my car-self. A bit heavier than ideal, but more powerful and smarter - and carrying more baggage. And still quite silly.


2018.09.29 Meet GHOST

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Five years and one day after selling Richthofen, my beloved Porsche 911 C4S, I picked up a new alter-ego-class car. It's a 2018 Tesla Model 3, long range battery, dual motor all-wheel-drive. White. And we named it "GHOST".

The Name

This was simply a family vote.
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It might have been nice to continue the monster motif set by "Grendel" by using "Wendigo" from the spooky campfire stories my dad used to tell. TESSA was a lovely runner-up, losing only the all-important Violet vote - who simply insisted on "Ghost". Even though I thought for sure she might also vote for "Princess Sparkle Prancer", but no dice. Only Simon was suitably amused by "Tesly McTeslaFace". And ForAytToo might have had a chance, if we had learned the VIN soon enough give it momentum.

The Colour

The thing that most people seem to question is the colour I chose. Perhaps because I have generally terrible taste in colours. Even so, I do have preferences. Seeing the car in person, in white, it makes a lot of sense. The bright trim fits better than with anything dark. Plus, only black and white are available without metallic flakes - a feature that has come to annoy me for no good reason.

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Stupid Grin Driving Glee Factor

Tesla isn't totally transparent about some specifications for the car, but my (unofficial) understanding is that it's got two 191 kW (256 hp) motors, but that the actual power it can apply is limited by the current output of the non-Performance battery management system. It's supposed to be able to do 0-100 km/h in 4.5 seconds; it feels like less. It is significantly faster-feeling thrust-wise in all real world situations than Richthofen was, which feels important in my withered soul. So, while it officially lacks access to "Ludicrous" speed, it is certainly consistently hilarious. The delighted shrieks of terrified joy from the kids when we merely go in a straight line are simply dad-tastic.

It's quite an experience, and I have a lot more soaking in to do. Which will naturally translate into more writing. But for now, it is a fabulous introduction.


2018.09.20 A Thought

Maybe the people we pick to occupy the most powerful positions should be representative of our best ideas and natures, and not representative of our weakest impulses and fears.


2018.09.13 Oldness

It used to be that I spent my birthday reflecting on life; what I've learned, how I've grown, and what the future might hold.

This year, my birthday was mostly just another day trying to fiercely absorb the moments as they hosed over me, desperate to absorb as much of them as possible and to try not to dwell too much on the horizons. Life is weird.


2018.09.11 Seventeen Year Realization

There is another term for terrorism: asymmetric warfare.

When you consider the 3 thousand that died in the attack, the subsequent 5 thousand allied soldiers lives that have been spent since then, and the staggering 5.6 trillion dollars flushed away by directly inspired military operations abroad security fetishes domestically - you can make a pretty solid case that the terrorists made a comprehensive tactical victory. Anybody who blusters about having bombed them back into the stone age completely misses the point about how that's exactly where they started anyways. That's why they did it: they already had nothing to lose.

As sickening as that is to contemplate, it is nothing compared to my realization today. They didn't just manipulate the United States into wasting titanic amounts of money and desecrating the lives of dutiful soldiers. They succeeded in scaring the United States so badly that the country figuratively shit its bed.

Because what else is the election of Donald Trump other than the exact manifestation of mindless fear?


2018.09.07 Star Wars Concert

For my birthday this year, S surprised me with tickets to see Star Wars (A New Hope) with the instrumentals performed live by the Portland Symphony Orchestra.

It was delightful.

Star Wars has been one of the cornerstones of my connection with popular culture, and John Williams' score is a very big part of that. Hearing it performed live was magical by itself. Experiencing it amongst all the glorious weirdos who were also eagerly attending the Schnitzer added a special flavour. Especially the couple in the stormtrooper helmet with a white tuxedo and a vader helmet with a skin-tight catsuit.


2018.09.03 Canadian Family

The Portland Castle Clan drove up to my home town of Nelson BC, in Canada, to stay with my Grandpa Kosiancic for the "Celebration of Life" for my Grandma Kosiancic. It was deeply meaningful to be there with him, and to witness his courage and stoicism. And to be humbled both by his unwavering love for his Violet, and the vitality that still illuminates his small, wiry 90-year-old frame.

Among the rare creatures who appeared, as if from fairy tales, were:

  • my mother, the hermit
  • my uncle, the recluse
  • my aunt, "the good one"
  • my sister, her common-law husband, and her two kids with their partners
  • cousins that I have not seen since childhood
  • Grandpa Kosiancic's younger and-much-less-flourishing brother
  • people I knew when I was a child in Valhalla

It was sort of akin to being an alien imposter wearing a human family-member's skin. My difficulty in relating with most of these people ended up feeling abstract, requiring me to simplify myself into a tritely-packaged version that they could swallow. And yet, it was still really valuable to me to have these various imperfect connections with my physically-distant family. Almost as though I was made more real by existing an incrementally more clear fractal image in their minds.

Better still was driving through the night to visit with Dave. He remains the only person with whom I am surprised by the degree to which I transform into a chatterbox. It felt really good to engage in that high-bandwidth connection after a day of low-fidelity conversations. The lonely nighttime drive itself was a conversation with my younger Kootenay-dwelling self, going swiftly and eagerly and drowning out my singing with my favourite songs.


2018.08.22 Blatherings

It's late at night and I'm just feeling unable to go to bed in my current mental state. And one of the things weighing on me is my lack of contributions to this blog, or writing in general - but I have nothing specific that I want to say. So here I blather trying to satisfy the general malaise without benefit of specifics.

One of the pieces of writing advice that I recently absorbed was the value of just writing and writing and writing and trusting that eventually your voice will appear and that inside that voice you can discover things that you want to say. It also warned that a lot of editing would probably be required, but assured that the writing in the first place was by far the greater hurdle. Having recently watched NK Jemisen's 3rd consecutive Hugo acceptance speech, where she admitted to writing a million words of crap, and a million more of meh, I think I can see how the work of writing can be accomplished. After long having been seemingly just beyond my grasp.

Except, of course, I really don't see myself having any more reach than before, time-wise. At least, not any time soon. But that doesn't mean I can't continue to fumble along with some practice until I can settle in and dedicate more of my time to really working at writing.

Probably after I break myself physically, mind you. Because it's good to have plans.


2018.08.16 Whistler Flashbacks

The recent televised events at Whistler has reminded me of many experiences etched into memory.

Ninja Cougar / Karate Monkey / Samurai Pizza Cat

Our "warm up ride" the first day was this series of technical trails that are listed as intermediate at Whistler. They easily rank as black diamond back at Sandy Ridge, and included a surprise drop that easily exceeded my largest drop accomplished before. This set the tone for the whole trip for being in over my head but managing to survive and enjoy the thrill.

Crank It Up / Heart Of Darkness / Family Cross

Despite punishing breaking bumps, many repeats of these intermediate jump lines did a lot to build my confidence in the air. Especially gratifying was learning to feel my balance improve from launch to landing, and learning to let go of the brakes.

Freight Train

Black diamond jump line. Ho-Lee-Shit. The worst part is the sheer amount of time you get to hang in the air feeling afraid. I felt like I should have added a sign to my bike saying "this machine makes braking bumps", even as I was massively thankful for its generous suspension soaking up all the casing I did.

Earth Circus

A new "intermediate" flow trail that is hands-down my favourite trail on the whole planet. The joy of dancing and bouncing through this magical tail is unparalleled.

Top Of The World

There is nothing that squats in one's memory quite as much as riding a black diamond technical trail from the very peak of a mountain. It was legendary.

The Dreams

While in Whistler, my dreams were frenetic continuations of my mind racing to see what line to take next. Even while awake but letting my mind wander, a series of images of twisting banks and gut-wrenching drops and technical gnar would roll through my mind's eye. It was both mentally exhausting and amusing.


2018.07.24 Whistler

I want to write stuff here about this.

Just, you know, when I'm not so fucking sad.


The key aspects to relate about this adventure are (in no particular order):

  • The beauty of the mountains in British Columbia Canada whisper to my soul's truest self. Especially including the twisty roads.
  • Cramming a year's worth of technical riding into two days feels like the scene from the Matrix where Neo learns kung fu.
  • The gestalt difficulty of the riding I was doing clearly over my head, comfort-wise. But it sure was fun, and rewarding in terms of skills. #safetythird.
  • When I get tired and shaky, my fear of heights gets more profound. Dang those chairlifts can feel high.
  • Having the right equipment is a big deal. Huzzah for:
    • my Rocky Mountain Slayer - for general awesomeness
    • the double-down Maxxis Minion DHF's I mounted on it - for specific no-flats awesomeness despite terrible abuse
    • and my Fox Proframe helmet - for permitting good airflow while providing full-face MIPS protection
  • Forcing others to listen to Hamilton on a road trip can be very cathartic.

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2018.07.16 Goodbye Grandma Kosiancic

After a year and six days of being in the hospital and various care facilities, being slowly eroded by Alzheimer's, my mom's mom Violet Kosiancic passed away today.

Holding her hand as she passed was her husband of 49-and-a-half years was my grandpa, Lawrence Kosiancic.

I will miss her.


2018.07.05 Whelmed

So, not overwhelmed, exactly. But definitely doing enough that logging thoughts for posterity seem... secondary. Hard to feel motivated knowing that I still have yet to fix the claytoncastle.com link to point here correctly.

Anyway, so far July has been busy.

  1. Simon birthday party of surprising chaos.
  2. Canada Day of insufficiently picturesque biking.
  3. Simon birthday of extreme LEGO™-ness.
  4. Rebellion Day hosting the neighbourhood on our grill and blowing shit up on our street.
  5. Reading Bourdaine and extrapolating too much.


2018.06.29 Tesla Day

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2018.06.13 Fuck

Fuuuuuuuck.


2018.06.11 Fear

Had a stray thought tonight. Maybe the reason why bravery matters is because reality is mostly formed by fear. All the worst things are forged from fear. Even the things that aren't real, fear of them makes them relevant anyway.

We should be mindful of what we decide to fear. If such a thing is possible.


2018.06.09 Life, the Universe, and Everything

Simon has been reading my old copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy. His laughter every night echoes my own from 3 decades ago.

One of the legacies of my many readings and watchings of Douglas Adam's works is a tendency to reflect on a wider perspective. It can be humorous, as originally intended, but it can also be cathartic. This last time, it feels actually pretty humbling.

Life is good. Simon and Violet are happy, healthy, delightfully alive little people that I adore; being their dad is pretty great. Marriage with S continues to be a gift and a joy, and even though we have our complications the shared adulty adultness of our loving friendship and partnership feels solid and real. My job is rewarding and fun, despite some annoying stubbed toes on my ambitions. I keep playing AIF with Dave, and staying in touch with my creative side thereby. Today I went for a short bike ride through a poorly maintained trail that was slick with rain mixed with dust on top of slippery roots and mud - it was sketchy as hell, and the grind back up was exhausting, but I feel great. Not just "great for a 45.75-year-old", but legitimately great.

I'm not sure how or why I managed to get to have such a good life, but I sure an thankful for it.


2018.05.25 Another Deletable Entry

This is where I write something asinine that transmutes into something poignant.

Shit. I guess not.

Just like how this was supposed to be the day that I finally figured out how deftly point claytoncastle.com to this site instead of the old static POS. Lesson to self: don't register domains with shifty-eyed Calgarians.


2018.05.21 Reflections On David Bock

The memorial service for my father-in-law was lovely. It is quite impressive the consistently profound effect that he had on most people who got to know him. Their remembrances of him spoke of his capacity for listening, insight, and wisdom. My wife's and my brother-in-law's memorial speeches were part of the same Venn diagram, but also included insights into his pervasive humour and glimpses of fatherly love.

I feel like there was another lesson of David Bock that was less-well recognized. When people mentioned his struggle with Parkinsons, they spoke of his former vigor and of his valour in facing the disease. Both of which are undoubtedly true. But there was also a substantial serving of stubbornness associated with his resolute denial of some of his limitations. He really should have been using a walker, or a wheelchair - but he didn't. Instead he used a cane. Not to help him walk, really, but more of a way to signal "holy shit, look out for the old man about to stumble and fall down". And, I should say, I have a hereditary respect for stubbornness. To my shame, I also felt a certain occasional pity for him - for the difficulty in basic navigation, and the embarrassment of needing help. He needed help standing up. A lot. But here's the thing - and pardon me while I struggle to capture it adequately - he was capable of transcending that pity and embarrassment, for both of us.

When he needed help up, he would hold up his hand as a simple, humble request. And no matter how he had gotten into the state of needing help up, he was actually offering both of us a way to address - and succeed - in accomplishing a mutual state of dignity. The asking for help comes from self-respect, knowing that being helped is deserved. The giving of help comes from self-respect, knowing that we are capable of helping. The simple clasping of hands, and pulling, forged a bond of regard and affection.

I liked helping my father-in-law, Doctor David Bock, to stand up. In family settings I would arrange to be situated so that I would be the most convenient person to step in to assist him to stand should he need it. It's not often you get the opportunity to engage in an act of pure transcendent dignity.


2018.05.15 Congratulations Canadians

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Specifically, congratulations to my children Simon and Violet who just received their official documentation verifying their Canadian citizenship. A few thoughts about this coexist simultaneously for me.

  1. I'm so incredibly proud of my favourite people belonging to my favourite country.
  2. That was considerably more difficult and annoying than it had to be.
  3. I hope they live in Canada, at least for a bit.
  4. All that's left is for S to get her Canadian citizenship, then we can flee. (If we need to.)


2018.05.05 Turtles All The Way Down

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Just finished reading Turtles All The Way Down by John Green. Yes, the same John Green who made you cry entirely too much with The Fault In Our Stars. It's similarly excellent, complete with required tissues in-between the laughing.

One of the poignant facets of the book is the unique pain of losing loved ones, specifically fathers. This resonates here at the Castle household, because of tragedies both new and old. It prompted a couple things in me. One, I found myself phoning my dad's cell phone, which for complicated reasons my mom has kept but rarely has on - and has never changed the message. Two, I've become hyper-aware of how my kids seem to be perceiving me.

I hope there's still an internet when they're older, after I'm gone. Hi kids. I adore you both.


2018.04.27 David Bock

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Farewell to my father-in-law, a man of profound insight and humour.