I half heartedly considered putting up something on the blog last night.
Went nowhere. Beatrice took me out for sushi instead.
I had just put version 2.0 of the book to bed—off to the editor—and we’ll see what comes of it. I ended up working far more on V2 than V1. It’s done for me, now. Still simple, designed for beginners, but: tons more info, more options, more ideas and more motivation.
…In other news, for the first time since the last Troll Virus months ago (and only one or two prior, ever), I’ve had to ban a girl who didn’t seem too trollish at first, but turned out to be…and then proved herself a troll in competently going around the ban—which is great because that proves she doesn’t respect the property of others (i.e., classic troll). As I write, she’s busily unplugging and plugging back in her dynamic IP modem to grab another IP, using different screen names, different email addresses…all in order to get comments through. But, you get to judge for yourself, as always. I gave her the benefit of dozens of comments, replying civilly to almost every one. But now she’s butthurt because she doesn’t, apparently, get to own my blog and I won’t let her own it. I’m so ashamed.
…Oh, and if you like animal fat, you’re contributing to the destruction of the planet. Y’know, just so you know. I certainly didn’t want any of you to take it non-seriously. Indeed: those links? The survival of the planet and the human race? Yep. At stake. So there you go.
I’m gonna go off and fly my ass off for the better part of a week. Same wing as last year. I’m going to go use global warming to my advantage, if I’m lucky, because hang gliders have two sources of power: gravity and solar (I’ll defer to the aeronautical engineers to explain why). Here’s some recycled photos from last year, ’round this time.
Everyone always asks and so yea, we wear reserve parachutes, repacked once per year.
Oh, and did I mention? This one has sprogs in lieu of luff lines for reflex protection. Aren’t you glad?
And it arrives on the top of the car, and after taking you a few thousand feet over launch and keeping you there for as long as solar power will allow—which is usaually a few hours or until you tire—you pack it up, toss it top the car and haul it off to the next mountain to do all over again.
Now isn’t that fucking cool? Really.
I’ll try to report on-scene, as events and circumstances develop. There might even be the most amazing camping cooking you’ve ever seen. We’ll see. No guarantees, and I still have no idea what’s on the menu for my duty night. But it’s pretty much camping, cooking real and damn good, and hang gliding for the next week…upon which it becomes all about #AHS12.
So stick around, will’ya? (all except that troll, of course).