Flying Cars

The Osprey looks so stupid that I have been looking at all of the flying car stuff on the net.   Years ago Moller had a picture of the Moller 440E in Vanity Fair and there is now a Moller Skycar site that sells toys.

Aerocoupe was probably the most successful of the flying cars since it really wasn’t a car at all but a slow and cheap airplane that operated like a car.

This guy Paul Moller of the Skycar has been around for a good long time.

His stuff at least looks more sensible than the Osprey, though I wonder if his things really fly.   It would be a good thing if he flew one around from place to place like Orville flew up the Hudson River.

I myself imagine a flying car, or VTOL machine with the jet turbofan engines mounted at the very tips of the wings, on wings that changed shape as needed for takeoff, landing, and cruise flight.

What I would direct my designers to do would be first to find the most efficient turbofan engine available.

Second I would direct them to mate that to a wing that would change shape through hydraulic and pnuematics as if to replicate the wings of a seagull.

Really what I would instruct my designers to do would be to build a seagulls wings out of fabric and tubing and joints and put jet turbofan engines on the tips to lift and carry the body of the craft.

The pivot for my thinking in this area is that the propulsion for a seagull comes from their wingtips and how they move.

 A small ball gimbal servo motor geared round tip mounted set of engines on changable shape wings would replicate the flight ablities of seagulls who I have witnessed stopping in midair and doing a 360 degree roll in one spot without losing altitude.

I was standing on top of a 5000 gallon fuel truck at Fort Lauderdale Hollywood International and a seagull flew up to me and put out its wings, stopped, looked at me, put one wing up and one wing down and rolled over, put its wings out, looked at me again, and then flew off.

Studies of the seagulls wing have revealed that it is the tips of their jointed wing that provide thrust and this is why I would want to recreate their wings for my aircraft.

Computer control of the hydraulic and pneumatic internal structure is now possible and ought to undertaken for military purposes since I expect the Osprey to be a general failure all around because of the size of the rotors at the wingtips.

To fix the Osprey I would put Turbofan engines of appropriate thrust where those idiot rotors are, and see if it flew.

                                                                                          Love, Russell

 

Short Version of The Transcendian Reading List

Transcendian Reading List

Short version, or unexplained list.

The I Ching/by wonder

The Bible/By spiritual season

War and Peace/ Tolstoy

Absolam Absolam/William Faulkner

Classic Readings in International Relations

The works of James Jones: Some Came Running, The Thin Red Line, From Here to Eternity, The Pistol, Go To the Widow Maker, Whistle.

The Naked and the Dead & Harlots Ghost/Norman Mailer

The USA Trilogy/ 1919, The 42nd Parrallel, and The Big Money by John Dos Passos.

A Death out of Season, Blood on the Snow, and The Face of Terror by Emmanuel Litvinoff

15 Battles that Changed the World/John Creasy

The Rise and Fall of The Third Reich & The Nightmare Years by William Shirer

Inside the Third Reich/Albert Speer

Les Misarbles/Victor Hugo

Flying Cloud/Armstrong Sperry

All of the books by Nevil Shute, but particularly Round the Bend and The Legacy.

The Art of Clear Thinking/author name forgotten

The Civil War Trilogy by Shelby Foote

Grant/McFeely

The Last Picture Show, Texasville & Duane’s Depressed

Lonsome Dove, Streets of Laredo, Commanche Moon & All My Friends are Going to be Strangers/ Larry McMurtry

Dog Soldiers, Outerbridge Reach and Damascus Gate/Robert Stone

Lolita/ Nabakov

Gorky Park & Polar Star/Martin Cruz Smith

The Prince of Berlin/ Dan Sherman

KGB/Ken Barrows

Time and Time Again/Clifford Simak

Pillars of the Earth/Ken Follet

The Human Comedy/William Saroyan

Collected Poems/Weldon Kees

Collected Poems/Gregory Courso

Fantasies and Meditations on the Illusionless Man/Alan Wellis

Catch 22/Joseph Heller

All Quiet on The Western Front/Erich Marie Remarque

The Enormous Room/ee cummings

The Norton Anthology of Modern War/edited by Paul Fussell

The First World War and Modern Memory/Paul Fussell

The Prince/Machievelli

Three Soldiers/John Dos Passos

Chicken Hawk/authors name not now remembered

Dispatches/Michael Herr

Highways to a War/Christopher Koch

In Cold Blood/Truman Capote

Executioners Song/Norman Mailer

Goodbye Mickey Mouse & Spy Story/Len Deighton

Cold Mountain/Charles Fraizer

Home Before Dark/Susan Cheever

Continental Drift/Russell Banks

Fools Die & The Dark Arena/Mario Puzo

Amerika/Franz Kafka

A Clockwork Orange/Anthony Burgess

Hollywood/Charles Bukouski

For Whom the Bell Tolls/Ernest Hemingway

Confederacy of Dunces/

The Flim Flam Man/

Blue Movie/Terry Southern

Young Men and Fire/Norman Mclean

Play it as it Lays/Joan Didion

Final Drafts/

Final Payments/Mary Gordon

The Fountainhead & Atlas Shrugged/Ayn Rand

Sand and Stone/ Frank Lloyd Wright

Einstein History and Other Passions/Kenneth Knowlton

Blood Meridian/Cormac McCarthy

       This is the short version of my reading list that has no comments.

                                                     Russell Scott Day 8/28/05

 

About Transcendia.org 8/28

Transcendia.org now works on all of its buttons even though at first it says "soon" for the video.   This is a big deal and would have been impossible if not for the work of Heath Hettig my webmaster who apparently actually took my deadline seriously for I wanted the site to have an "Opening" that coincided with the start of the new school year.

       Without the support and interest of High Schoolers and College students, discount Transcendia has no hope of actual success and I have been working to make it more entertaining and substantive which is reflected in recent additions to the Poetry section where I have posted some more of my poems, prostate along with chapters of Force of Nature as I write them.

      I just have dial up and apparently it takes a good while to download the movie Looking Back which will be shown tomorrow night at Cats Cradle in Carrboro NC at the Flicker Festival.

      JET BEACH, the screenplay is still to be found in the Writings Section, along with LEARJET the Writers Guidline for the Television Series.   Eventually I hope we will move fictional works into a separate section, but for the time being I will post fiction in the Poetry Section and write my columns, "letters" to the Writings Section.

       The Tattoo Transfer Service has not produced much interest and I have been surprised and disappointed and we have changed the price structure.

       I am also lowering the price of the Passport, though it cannot be issued without the filling out of the application.

       My address is 301 Pleasant Dr., Carrboro, NC transcendia.org 27510 and the telephone number is 919-960-8446.

       transcendia.org has made great strides this past era, and contributions, or purchases of clothing and bags or whatnot with the flag on them at the store would be appreciated.   Donations would be appreciated and are possible.

       Transcendia is my invention, it comes from my vision titled Transcend-O-Ray and it is aimed at filling a gap in the institutions of the world.   There does come a time when reform of some governments or institutions is wasted effort and one will do better, and it is wiser to create something new.

       

      

       

          

Force of Nature/Grover Was Angry

Force of Nature:

          Grover was Angry

     Grover was angry that Carl had taken the plane without telling him.   He knew he shouldn’t be since it was really Carl’s airplane, but all the same he was pissed off.    He’d driven the Packard out there to the field to discover the plane gone.    The lineman Zack told him Carl had taken off sometime after lunch.

     Carl’s Harley was in the woodshed hangar they had built.   Grover felt like kicking it.    He got a Coke out of the red machine conscious of the bottle he pulled past the rollers, noting the grinds on the glass.   He turned and ran his hand over his bald head feeling the sweat and heat of the sun on the back of his hand.

       Grover drank the Coke and watched Zack fueling a Staggerwing.   He forgot about how mad he was because the Staggerwing was so beautiful it was a distraction.   He wanted it.   He walked down the steps from the Line Shack to the pad and asked Zack where the pilot was.

       Zack was a tall skinny guy who had simply hung around at the field so much making himself useful one way or another that they had gotten together and hired him to operate the surplus Fuel Truck they had bought.   Zack had a long face and was wearing herringbone coveralls.   They thought him a bit odd for though he was 28, and had survived combat in the Pacific, he somehow seemed to be still a teenager, or 05be he had decided to go back to being the self he had been before he was wrenched from school to fight.

      Looking down from the ladder holding the hose into the wing while pumping the gas from the whinning truck Zack said,  "Pilot went to the Hotel, and passengers went to Graduation."

      Grover remembered then it was Graduation Day at Duke.

      He looked at the plane and wondered what it would be like to fly in anything that and fast at the same time thinking the cabin had about the same interior as the Packard.

       Then he heard the sound of the Taylorcraft and looked at the treeline and watched as Carl landed.    He finished the Coke and put the bottle in the round tall galvanized trash can for empty oil cans and rags strapped to the back of the still army green fuel truck.

      Carl nodded to Grover as he taxied past headed up the line past the tie downs towards their little hangar.   Roger Adams was in the plane with him and he could see the huge camera Roger used held up to Rogers chest in the cramp of the cockpit.

      Gover walked down the line following the plane and arrived while Karl was chocking it.   Roger was looking around through the Speed Graphic.   Grover thought of the photograph he had taken of them in the plane they had put up in the gas station.

       Roger pointed the camera at him and Grover made the snarling face he put on whenever a camera was pointed at him.   From youth he had snarled whenever told to smile for the camera and as somepeople smiled automatically whenever noticing a camera pointed at them, Grover was in the habit of snarling.

      He heard the sound of the shutter, a light sound like a swoosh and a click different from the mere click of the Brownie he himself used to take pictures on holidays.

      "Fuck you Roger."   Grover said.

      "Nice to see you too."   Roger said smiling as he took down the camera and stuck in a slide and pulled the film holder out of the back and turned it around and stuck it back in its place and then pulled the other slide out.

        Carl was sitting on the Harley by then and kicking it.   It started on the third kick and Grover and Roger looked at Carl who gunned the engine and grinned at them.   He let the engine die down and sat there as it ticked over.

       "I’ve got to go, anything important to know?"

       "Paul’s at the station.   Buddy’s gone with the new driver to Brooklyn, and Dad says Mother wants a television for her birthday."

        Carl put the Harley in gear and creeped it up to where Grover and Roger were standing.   Grover noticed that Carl had looked at the Staggerwing as he moved the bike next to him.

        "I looked at an RCA up at Tobys the other day.   He wants 4 hunderd and 25 dollars for it.   He says if you put up an antenna it’ll get the station from Raliegh.   I told him he ought to throw in the antenna for that price."

        Roger walked off toward the Staggerwing looking at it through the viewfinder while he walked and Carl and Grover watched him while they looked at the plane as well.

        Carl nodded at the plane and asked,  "Think we could make any money with one of those?"

       "’Bout the same as a taxi or a limo I imagine."   Grover said.

       "Be more sensible to buy a plane like a truck, since we know about trucking."

        "Taxi’s make money too."

        They watched Roger take his picture and start to walk back towards them and Carl said,  "I’ll pick up the TV from Toby tomorrow.   Are we spliting it 4 ways or just between us two and Matt and Paul can get Mom something else?"

       "Four ways, but less from Matt works far as I know."   Grover said as Roger walked up and got his equipment bag out of the plane and closed back the door.

       Roger then turned to Carl wearing the bag and holding the camera and said,   "Thanks for taking me up.   I’ll call you when I get the money from Arnold."    Arnold was an attorney involved in a land dispute and had hired Roger to get some aerial pictures which was something Carl had come to think was about the only moneymaking thing the Taylorcraft was good for.   He thought he had about talked Roger into buying it from him.

       "Okay and tell that shyster we want to talk to him about 05be buying that airport you say he’s got a line on in Florida."

        "What are you talking about?"    Grover said.

        "Roger told me Arnold knows some people who are leasing land on the airport in Fort Lauderdale."

        Before Grover could say anything else Carl revved the Harley and dropped it  into gear, nodded to Roger, and letting out the clutch yelled,  "See you guys later." as he rode off leaving them watching him run up past the line past the shack hangars and tie downs and turn on the road toward town.                  

      

PlatForm Remembered Working Class Corner IGX

Working Class Corner/ Platform Remembered

      Because I am a hard head and tend to do as many things as others the first way I learned, though not necessarily the best way I now and again lose hours and hours of writing that may have been better than what I have to condense to what I remembered of it, because I wrote it online, and it just went somewhere that I can’t find.

       Such a thing happened about 4 times last week.

       My condensed rememberances of the main points were about Defense and Education.

       On the case of Defense I tried to think of weapons that everyone ought to be assumed to be carrying in a time of general war.

       I don’t care where you live anymore, you really need to be carrying some sort of defensive weapon, and not really so much for yourself all of the time.

       There will be call for weapons in outerspace for large crews.   Such weapons will be non lethal and will initially be Taser sorts of weapons, (Though you might call them Phasors like they did on Star Trek.)

       In the Earth environment and outerspace environment non lethal weapons work and therefore I would like to see all sensible citizens have weapons such as Pepper Spray or Mace, and even Tasers, though in the schools I would not allow students yet to carry such things in the classrooms.

       My education was extreme and I was large enough and fast enough until I was in my mid thirties to win or draw in the fights I was in, but for the small and the weak children who have no protectors and may find themselves alone, I might arm even school children with something like Pepperspray.

       My education was so extreme that I lived in Rochdale College in Toronto in during the Viet Nam War when everyone knew someone who had either been there, or who had been there and died there.   There I was a newspaper editor poet and Security Guard.

        All the Hallucenigenic Drugs were legal in Rochdale College, and I worked to keep Drunks and Junkies and Speed Freaks out besides thieves or kidnappers or other sorts who are likely to harm others or themselves.

        There are some people that even go out looking for the first fight they can find and I fought with some of them in the Lobby.

        Overall for a City of its size Toronto is pretty civilized, or was then when I was on Rochdale Security.   I didn’t carry a gun or even a useful knife and fist fought in the fights I had to.

        I was 19 then, and now I am 52 and I really ought to be carrying Pepper Spray as a general rule.

        I was in the Bank today depositing my check and for a second felt a little fear that the guy sitting on the bench outside the bank looked a little crazy.   Who knows what he has in his bags, or how crazy and desperate he might be?

       I was getting some bacon and coffee in a store on Market St. and Wilmington and these guys came in with guns and robbed the place.   They made me lie on the floor.   I had nothing in the face of a gun, and if I had had a gun then there might have been a shoot out.

      With the spray I might have had a bit of a chance if I rolled with it and was able to spray it when the robber might have come to shoot me in the back of the head as happened to a mechanic named Manny I knew.

       Manny lived because he had a hard skull and he was shot with a 25 caliber pistol that has low velocity right out of the barrel.

        Now far as I know if you can have a drivers license you can have Pepper Spray, and really I think if you outlaw guns you ought to require all to carry something for the defense of themselves and others, in a time of general war.

       Of course I think that the Drivers License ought to be a Federal License same as a Pilot License, and it would make clear that we were at war if that disconnect was changed as far as US Citizenship was concerned.

       True Southerners do not believe in the Federal Government which is one of the reasons in the past I called myself an Easterner which works as far as my conflicts over work with Californians in the movie business.

        So to end this stuff about defense, I am going to at least go out and buy Pepper Spray for my wife and myself and keep it with me as part of my civic duty and part of my private need, – now that I’m not so tough.

       The Schools are where the issue of non lethal weapons and their carry would be precedent setting and prepare youth for the carrying and proper use of weapons more generally than is currently the case in the United States at least.

       The attacks and killings that have taken place in American Schools in the recent era does seem to call for defensive weapons of the sort sold by the License Plate place to at least be carried by teachers and administrators of schools.

       In a time of general war upon civilians by external actors, and internal actors, where the place of the attacks is too varied to be fully defended by specialist warriors all must be armed with a clear understanding of the common threat and what their weapons are rightly used for.

       Weapons and physical violence of fists and feet are rightly used to defend yourself or your family, friend, or countrymen.

EDUCATION.

        Your parents do not teach you what you need to know, but what they know and that is why there are schools and teachers to make up for that fact.

        I tell my daughter that I want to help her learn to do what she wants to do and do not necessarily want her to do things I have done to make a living, or fullfil my destiny.

        I want to help her learn what she wants to know to live up to the destiny she feels God has given her.

        So I want the schools to teach the things I don’t know very well, that I ought to know better, or more of, like I really ought to know another language besides English.

        I want the local Elementary Schools and all schools really to teach languages other than the mother tongue in Elementary School when it is known that that is the easiest time for the student to learn another language.

         If I had any power over education that would be a big issue with me and something that I would not stop attempting to institute.

         I feel that it criminal that students in the US are not taught languages when it is best to teach it to them, and sometimes suspect that it is done on purpose to keep Americans from actually being able to make a living in anywhere but America.

        Reading and writing are crucial skills and the best way to teach reading of English is apparently through Phonics and for English that is the method I would want to make sure was used for teaching reading.

        Navigation and numbers skills are equal to language skills, but dependent on it.   For math and physics I would emphasize principals that solved word problems in math in my schools.

       This is my platform as concerns Defense and Education.

        As far as the Economy is concerned I will address that issue in the next filing.

                                                                  Russell

           

         

      

Working Class Corner/Federalism & NASA

Federalism

       Real Southerners are not successfully federalized and really do not believe in the Federal government.

       From early on in my life I was federalized because we lived in a multiplicity of states and I more over identified with being an American.

       The trip to the Moon was the sort of Federal program that made a kid proud to be an American.

       Somehow it is hard to feel pride about being an American even with a semi functioning space program.

       All that money spent on all that wonderful science and pictures of Earth seems run by Science Fiction stories from a time when there was a difference.

      It is time the Space Program, embodied in the Federal institution that is NASA was run on facts, and not fictions.

       The facts are that the Moon and Mars and Venus may well be eventually useful to mankind, but they are not practical evacuation destinations for large numbers of people and are better viewed as useful for defensive purposes, such as places from which to defend the Earth from Asteroids or Aliens.

       In fact neither threat is an impossiblity, though I consider the Asteroid threat more likely.

       The most sensible thing to do now with the Space Program is to give a mission of concrete utility to those of us who are going to be living and working here on Earth.

       That mission really does need to be a Planet Defense System that is similar to the Coast Guard and it may well be best to put the Coast Guard in charge of NASA to make it happen.

       The Coast Guard is a good Federal institution with a clear mission that insulates it from politics generally so well that a hero tv show about the Coast Guard is called for.

       I see them as the US equivalent to the Canadian Mounties.

       Too many of us do live in the past.

       The world has not changed, but what we know about it has, and it is sad for the working people that so many of our leaders do not even live in the present, and are incompetent to lead us into the future.

       Religion is not necessarily in favor of the facts.

       On one hand this is a good thing, for otherwise there seems little reason to try to be something more than an animal, but on the downside religion is a denial of the fact that one has only for certain one life and there is no real evidence that things will be better in another life, if there is even one to be had.

       Some say God is Love, and others say God Knows all, and others say suffering is God’s Will for the sinner.

       I say that once your religion inhibits you more than it inspires you, it is useless.

       This is my main measure of the goodness of any set of religious beliefs.

       In relation to government then I look at religious beliefs as helpful when they inspire both leaders and followers to make more satisfying lives for their citizens.

       A satisfying life is a life of building things, making things, growing things, cleaning things, or in general working and having that work appreciated.

       Really we know that honest work ought to be rewarded honestly and in the United States the reason it is so hard these days to feel pride is that workers are looked down on because they must work, and must take any job that is in-front of them and must take whatever pay offered because otherwise they will have no work at all.

       All the poor working people are encouraged to hate themselves for not being rich employers who can abuse those that work for them, and further hate themselves because they no longer can even get jobs making things, which does satisfy a human need and does produce some pride that infects even salesmen of a nation.

      New Orleans was the present, in that it was the Service Economy that the Right Wing has sold to the American workers on the back of Religion.

       Say we just fix everyone’s house in New Orleans, and send them back to the same jobs they had, and just pay them more to do them?   The Government of the United States, which is Corporations and the Catholic Church has turned the US into a "service economy" and the Chinese are proud that they are making everything.

       Everything they don’t make, or invent, they get to steal.

       As far as the fortunes of the American Working Classes are concerned since the economy is divorced from making things at the same time it needs to have things to sell for a profit and everyone is getting old we can count on the end of US prosperity as it once might have been.

      The only thing to possibly help would be enforcement of international laws concerning intellectual property rights in China and Russia in conjunction with an international minimum wage.

       It is a good time for the creation of a Planet Defense System which is something the US could make, and sell shares of to other nations.

       Transcendia, if it had a budget would build a planet defense system as its "Service Economy".

       The problem with building a Planet Defense Service is that protecting the Earth from Asteroids and Aliens does not allow one to be selective.   In other words it will not work for me to say that if you have not paid your share of the service fee, I will let an asteroid, when it is coming, and not going to hit where others have paid for the protection, hit your nation, since the hit will likely affect those who have paid for the service and those that have not.

        Therefore I am best to make the technology and sell it to the UN.

        It is too bad that the UN is so fucked up, the EU so complacent, the US so out of control, and China and Russia so dependent on peasants, while the Catholic Church and Islam conspire to maintain the Crusades of the Dark Ages.

        Looked at realistically one would be inspired to commit suicide if one lost all faith in themselves as having hope of arguement with rational minds.

       The Space Elevator Concept does offer an economical bridge to outerspace that really must be built.

       It would be a big project that would cost a good deal of money and would turn the tower of Babel into something useful.

                                                                      Love- Russell

      

         

Time to write another Book

Dear Friends,

         I’ve been writing letters to people like Ellie Kinnard, an NC State Senator, Moses Carey, the Orange County Commissioner, and Sally Greene who is on the Chapel Hill Town Council.

       My writings on those issues have been directed at the operations of the local airport IGX, Horace Williams, the plight of the homeless and what to do about it, and advancing wherever possible the prospects for local motion picture production.

      I had a nice talk with Diane Reed because Moses Carey told me to call her about what is done with money collected in the county from motel and hotel room taxes.

       My question to Commissioner Carey was, "How much money does the County get from taxes on hotel and motel rooms, and what is done with it?"

       Apparently according to Ms. Reed there are only 1300 hotel and motel rooms in Orange County and the budget for her office of tourism is only 400 to 500 thousand dollars a year.

      As far as the initiative to elimanate homelessness as much as is possible and practical, I would like to see homeless people exempted from paying taxes when they get the money together to stay in a motel or hotel room as a little thing that would help them.

       I did discover that State Employees get a special rate when they stay in hotels and motels in the state, and think that the homeless ought rightly get that rate as well, as a little help to them.

      Now it does appear that most of the money that the Tourism Board gets from taxes on hotel rooms and motel rooms in Orange County is spent on brochures and the like.

       I have suggested that at the least Bill Arnold of the State Film Commission have such publications in his pocket and packet of "literature" when he goes with his staff to LA to lobby for film productions to come to the State and work.

      Further I think that although brochures and flyers have some utility, they would be more effective in conjunction with an event or events that draw the people who run desirable businesses such as motion picture production, physically to the area, of their own volition.

      Them guys from LA play Golf, and whenever they come to NC to work they bring their Golf Clubs.   I did convince Mr. Arnold and his staff to at least give away passes to great Golf Courses in the State of NC whenever they go out there to LA to Lobby for Business.

       For years now I have been trying to get an ABOVE THE LINE INVITATIONAL GOLF FISBEE GOLF TOURNAMENT instituted in the State of North Carolina, somewhere.

       When I lived in Guilford County I found out that significant amounts of money do end up in the County Coffers that could be used to finance such an event.   This is apparently common to most Counties, that money collected from taxes on hotel and motel rooms goes in some degree to the County Tourism Boards.

       I am trying to get some County to put up the money to institute such an event that builds on inherent strength and desirablity of the existing infrastructure in conjunction to "incentives", or what I call bribes.

       There are some good Golf Courses in Orange County, and as well some of the premier Disc Golf Courses in the Nation along side of them that I feel ought to be advertised and utilized so as to attract the people and players we need for a mature Motion Picture Industry to thrive in the State of North Carolina.

      Really I do not think that brochures are enough.

      People like to go to places they see in the movies and on TV, so I want to see a televised Golf Tournament for Motion Picture Producers, Actors, and Writers somewhere in the State, and since I live in Orange County, I’d like to see it happen where I live, since it might help me continue to live here.

      On the issue of the airport, Horace Williams, it is not run in a way that I approve of for it is run as if it is a private airport owned by the University of North Carolina, and it is not by law a private airport, but really a community airport.

      Landlocked localities need their own airport.

      Really it is odd to me that the County Commissioners and the Town Council of Chapel Hill and Carrboro have so completly abdicated their responsiblities as far as the asset that is the only airport in the County.

      I’ve worked to change their view of this asset so that the airport is acknowledged as important to the infrastructure and benefits the working people of the County in all of the ways it could as an Economic Multiplier.

       In the meantime I’m coming apart from lack of income to finance the healthcare I need.   I’m also coming apart due to the hard physical work I’ve drifted to doing in construction because that is the regular work I have been able to find.

       So it is time that I did focus a bit more on my own work, which is writing, and to that end I have started to refocus on my new novel Force of Nature.

       I rewrote and posted into the Poetry Section of transcendia.org, the first Chapter today, and I hope you will read it along with subsequent chapters as I may post them.

       I am tempted to run for either Mayor of Carrboro, or County Commissioner, and have been working on a platform worthy of support.

       Whatever Platform I codify in coming weeks will be based on what I understand as important for the Working Classes.   In general I am certain that a fully developed infrastructure is vital to the health of the overall anarchistic capitalistic economy, and that that means energy, police, schools, healthcare, roads, and water.

       I will refine the order and methods in subsequent postings as I serialize this novel that is on my mind.   I hope you will keep up with both, and welcome imput on the political subjects I turn to when I am not feeling particularly entertaining.

                                         Love, Russell Scott Day

Founder of Transcendia

        

Grover

                                               Grover

      Grover bought his wife some shoes at the Belks downtown.   He hated it in the tight cramped streets of downtown Durham.   He preferred to be at the gas station, or playing cards at the Elks.

       Paul and Buddy were fishing.    He thought about going to find them, but just drove aimlessly around in the Pontiac until he found himself on the fringe street past Roxboro Road where the whore kept an apartment.

       She was up stairs that ran up the side of the two story thick white paint siding claboard outside walls of the split up house that had once been a home to some one prolific family.

       He had trouble fitting the Pontiac down the tight drive past the wild boxwood shrubs and scrub and cedar, honeysuckle and all other manner of competing grasses and weeds run up in the wire fence till he was parked in the back on the thin gravel facing another fence overrun by vines.

       There was another car there, a 38 Ford with the swoop down back end.

       Grover turned on the radio and listened to part of a football game between Duke and Carolina.   He had played football for Duke.   He’d been Quarterback and Captain and he listened to the game remembering the way the guys had looked at him in the huddle.   It had always been interesting to him when he saw others move along with his will.

      The flying adventure with Carl had made him and the rest of the poker table laugh to tears in the telling.   As his three years younger brother he puzzled when he found himself vulnerable to Carl’s influence.   Rightly he had to keep the upper hand and so had emphasized every misstep of his brother, and the way Carl’s head had a perpetual scab somewhere on his scalp now.

      Still secretly to himself he had admitted that he was swayed and it had been hatching in his own mind that the family might need to go into another business.

       He himself was tired of the gas station and the tractor trailers they ran didn’t seem to be making as much money for the family as they ought to.   He was dreading the trip to New York with one of their hired drivers and the load of cigarettes.   He knew he needed to find out what really was going on and suspected that somewhere along the line the family was being robbed.

       Grover didn’t want to have to go back to driving himself as they had done when his father had put the brothers behind the wheels of anything that moved as soon as they were big enough to fight the machines and the weather and anyone who was stupid enough to attempt to stop them.

       His father had had to quit driving himself after he had beaten near to death a teamster on the docks who had threatened him.

       After Paul was hijacked they had all bought pistols, but hadn’t had to use them except for show after his father found a Business Agent to pay off so they could get in and out of the Brooklyn Pier.

      Still the whole thing still seemed more trouble than it was worth sometimes.

      The guy who had been with the whore came down the stairs.   Grover looked at his watch.   It was 4:30 in the afternoon on a Saturday and he had a box of shoes for his wife on the floor in the front.

       He had started the car and backed up turning when the whore came out and stood outside her door on the landing.   She was smiling and looking down at him when he backed into the place he had been parked in the other direction.

       She was wearing a flowered dress that hung clasped to her hips and fit tight to her moderate, but perfect breasts, in his opinion.   He thought he would miss her when she graduated from NC State.   She had come down from Carbondale Illinois where she had worked for a Madam in a brothel and started school at the University of Chicago for nursing.

       The first time he had had a black girl was when he was 15 and it had always been a part of his secret life only shared with others who had lives and interests like his and knew the need for secrecy and information shared over cigarettes and beer or liquor on the back porches of poker games taking a break from the game.

        It was a nice day, and he had some time.

        His dutiful but boney wife would not miss him or expect him till dinnertime, so he got out of the car and walked across the gravel and up the stairs.

        She stood there smiling and looking down at him as he came up the stairs looking at his feet till he got close and could near smell her.  She had an unusual smell to him, clean and musky at the same time.

        Her matter of factness and technical skill and the thicker feel of her skin was what he bought.

       "Well Carlotta, you got anything left for me?   Your visitor seemed young enough."   Grover said when she stepped back opening the door and inviting him in.

       "I heard your car and got a look out the window and got him gone in right good time I thought."   Her face coming up out of her chest and the smooth brown skin framed by the flowered dress was there round and round in brown curves of her body and eyes and cheeks and face with lips twice as big and soft as his white women.

     She turned and took a bottle out of the cabinet and poured him some Scotch into a glass and put it on the white enamel of the kitchen table.

      Grover sat down and she stood leaning her butt on the edge of the kitchen sink.

     Carlotta thought he was the largest of any white man she had given it to, and she liked him for his lack of timidity or worry.   She had taken to thinking of him as "The Dutchman" remembering how the Dutch had been different as far as white people she had come across.   He reminded her of her pimp who she had researched and made an agreement with when she had come to town looking for protection and humor.   Once on her own she had imagined the two of them with her.

       She kept such thinking to herself in a private ration that she regulated carefully and unspoken.

       Her father had been a butcher in Chicago and her mother had resented it when Carlotta had become old enough and commented on the "Uncles", and "Cousins" who visited when her father was at work.

      She hadn’t seen her father since she was 7 but she remembered him as big and shaped much the same as the man sitting in the hard wooden chair at the chrome legged white enameled table in that apartment kitchen where she lived and worked.

       She knew exactly what she would do with him in just a little while.   He would finish the drink and look at her and she would go into the bedroom and he would follow.

      Grover wasn’t looking at her face but at the V formed by the lay of her dress as she still leaned back against the kitchen sink when he asked, "Have you ever been in an airplane Carlotta?"

      "No."   She said.   "Black people don’t fly, you know that Mr. Grover."

      It was 7:15 when Grover left.   He marveled that he felt no guilt about what he had seen under his hands.

       "Black people don’t fly." – Was a wisp of a thought as he drove out between the houses and out towards his home.   He wondered what size shoes Carlotta wore and planned to get her some shoes as a present.   The one thing he really knew about women was that they liked shoes.

    

     

                

      

Force of Nature

Force of Nature

       Carl was what they meant when they say,   "He was a force of nature."

       He was standing looking at the airplane he had just bought with his pay and poker winnings and every other scheme besides the money from the family gas station they all ran for a living.

     It was a Taylorcraft, painted red now sitting there in the perfect evening light of the damp chilled morning.   -Trees off behind it.    Eight O’Clock in the morning now.

       The prevailing winds came down out of the northwest that time of year, and he stood at the south of the grass strip so that what sun there was made the leading edges gleam with the advertisement of their bright soul.

      He’d been out of the Navy since ’46 having come in just that late in the war to miss it, except for the loot.

     They had all from the top to bottom loaded any ship at any port leaving there at the very end with anything they could cram in a corner or hold or stacked in the paid spot on the deck.

       He’d won enough poker, collected enough favors owed, fed enough, to put ten German motorcycles on the ship for the trip back.

       He bought the little plane with the money from the motorcycles because after after the Navy he wanted to go further faster.   Ships had been too slow for him.   He liked women and the time between ports and whores was too great.

      It made his temper bad.

     The plane was sitting there in the gray of a misty 11 day.   The grass was just brown now, the strip cut out of the pines, pin oaks, maples dogwoods and blackberry tangles now raw at the edges of the strip.   He’d bought it where it stood from the brother of the man two years dead in a bomber over Germany.

      After Carl had figured out how to start it he’d driven it back and forth on the runway listening to the engine and feeling when the bounce got lighter.   He’d done that all alone there on the strip which was often oddly to him, deserted.

      The second time he’d let it hop a little.

       As patiently as was possible for him, he had read the brown paper of the cover creased and cracked half folded manual and noted what speed he might expect to get off the ground.

     He was stubborn and living was a joke to discover on your own terms for him.   Six foot three two hundred and twenty pounds, not full bald yet, but seeming in happy anticipation of the event with the short military haircut.

     All the men of the family went bald, so he looked like the rest of his brothers.   There were three of them.   They shared laws and treaties among only themselves, the brothers down from the uncles and grandfather and father and they were from Dutch traders and sailors and livery owners and then after the two wars and the depression it came down to the gas station and five tractor trailer trucks.

      He was now back and knew that the gas station, Durham, the trucks would not be enough.   -At least not the way he saw it.

      Carl there just 23 concentrated beneath the heavy oval Dutch head.   The short military bristlecut standing up.   Just looking at the airplane wondering what it would show him without knowing he was even thinking or wondering.

       He saw his future and it gave him peace.

       Real peace was foreign to his thinking so much that only a beautiful and dangerous thing would have even the glitter of peace that he would ever love.   For the violent and angry, compelled, it is only beauty that will stop them long enough to at least feel something like peace.

      They did things, and made other people do things, go places, carry things as they carried and did things as if it had always been so in their family to move freight and know how to get horses, boats, trucks or cars to move.   They made all around them move and carry as quick as possible.

     He stood a moment more.   If anyone had been around they would have been surprised to see him stand still that long.

      Then he went to the plane.

       It was too small for him.   He scraped his head getting in the hole in the side.   For the rest of his life there would always be a blood crusted spot on the top of his head from all the cockpits, door openings, wheel wells that he put his head in and out of.   No plane was ever really big enough for him.    05be there would have been a ship, but he was done with ships.   He didn’t seem to notice it from then on a perpetual scab, or care about it then or from then on.

     This time he scraped his head bending his neck while he lifted his leg into the space infront of the seat.   His right leg was up and the panel had held his attention more than what he was doing.   – Altimeter, airspeed dial in familiar knots, turn and bank indicator, fuel guage, magneto switch, radio.

      Finally he was in the thing and he got it going right off and let it run and ran it up with his feet on the tops of the pedals and then taxied out to the end of the strip bouncing a bit here and there and got it turned into the wind and steered it down the runway.

     He liked the sound of the engine the way he liked the sound of a motorcycle engine and felt everything about it as he went from one end of the strip to the other.   He felt the way the grass drug at the wheels and way it felt to have a wing above him feeling them as if they were attached to his shoulders.   He felt it when it was not the brakes but the rudder and wheel yoke in his hand that had influence and we was off the ground climbing in a changed sound and experience of gravity and rush of air.

      He was surprised at how soon he was lost.

 

     

     

Working Class Corner/War Pragmatics

War

     Please write to me about what wars you know about that are not in the general news.   I need to make a list of current wars and threats to working class people.

     In my view wars hurt working people regardless of their religious beliefs and I believe that it is not wise to believe in anything too much.

     I believe that believing in something too much results in war.

     I am talking about constructs here, views of morality and theological edits and imperatives.

      I did have a vision and I do believe in my vision as an experience that guides me.

      I believe that my vision was real and crossed from my physical life to my spiritual life and gave me a touchstone in my head that is what my body carries around and is what makes me a soul instead of an anonymous spirit.

       I think and believe that it is my duty to save the prospect of creating a soul for the unnamed spirits by saving the physical world for them to come to and which we go back to with an identity which is what spirits thirst for so much as to really be impatient about.

      The home of humanity is the Earth only so far and it is getting to the point where even if it is not hit by a big rock commonly called an Asteroid, it will be overwhelmed by people who are spirits and the common life will be even with the achievement of identity not much better than being dead.

       Since you need a body to have sex from all I know, I really do not expect to have sex in heavan, and though I really appreciate the life of the mind, it is the rememberance of physical love that I suspect is the reason that spirits desire to have this weird life.

       Some people then when faced with my education that comes from my Aleph vision say then that heavan does not conform to their conception of it.

      Basically they seem to expect that in heaven is an orgy where they get to have everything they wanted here.

      What  they need to face if we are to maintain the home of physical souls, which is a valuable and unique experience, and really not ought to be disturbed by wars which shorten the development of the soul and cause some to want to come back when it would be more fair if once was enough that whatever you do in the interests of war, is wrong.

      I believe that so much that I am willing to fail in making Transcendia into a real nation.

      This is one of the reasons I want the United Nations to take Transcendia over, though I am not pleased with Kofi Annan and the Security Council or the French,China or Russia.

       Certainly the Vatican is a big problem for Transcendia because the Vatican has an agenda that is not supported by practical programs for maintaining a place to grow souls over the long term.

       It is Confuscious and Christ who I typically work with on for the Transcendian agenda.

       Confuscious recommends to me professionalism in actions caused by ideals and vision, and Jesus recommends doing unto others as I would have done to me.

      I don’t really want to be murdered, and therefore I feel it behooves me not to murder others.   War does not seem a good justification for murder.

      Practically if someone is trying to kill me or my children or my countrymen, then they ought to be defended against and possibly killed since the weapons available, have the power to make the Earth impossible for humans to live on.

       So the most practical thing for the international community of souls to do is to get rid of all weapons of mass destruction like nuclear weapons so that the souls that are convinced and believe that there is infinite space for all spirits to invade will not have the capacity to wipe out long term prospects.

                                                           Love, Russell