Off Grid

In more ways than one.

It has been a while since my last post. Mostly due to my lazy at home routine. I’ve decided to accept the person I really am since writing my last blog post “Lists Work”. I am a bit of a sloth at home. Procrastination (within reason) or  last minute tidying is not of any risk to my personal health or safety soo trying to fit a square peg of mass productivity into a round hole of extremely relaxed home life (deeply entrenched in escapism) is not worth the stress and anxiety being busy induces.

I have been examining my relaxed home life routine. And I’ve found that roughly every two ta three years there seems to be a natural plateau in my levels of productivity. The remedy historically has been change. Extreme change; relocation typically. Starting over is a very familiar and satisfying feeling. I love to purge myself of forgotten junk.

With that said, there is a point I’m getting to here… I don’t like living on grid. I feel like it is primitive and harbors a feeling of imprisonment. My creature comforts generate a dependency. Before I know it, the world and it’s routine become familiar. It bores me to death. It is time to shake things up again. Note, only in my home life this time. My job and employer are amazing. You would have to chain me up and drag me out of the shop lol.

I have decided to leave tradition behind and make a move towards independent living OFF GRID. This will been one of the most life changing decisions I have ever made. And; It will begin with a purge.

Lucky for me I’ve been living in a very small apartment for the last two years. My present living space measures about 147 Square Feet (this figure excludes the washroom & kitchen). I love my current arrangement but affordability & location (far from work) have forced me to reevaluate my long term sustenance plan.

Living off grid and being self sufficient really fits my personality type. I really don’t like asking people for help. In a perfect world I’d rely on no one. Nothing is ever perfect though. Really I don’t mind asking someone for help as long as they allow me to fairly compensate them for services rendered. But handouts; I’ve ridden on the coattails of society much longer than I ever intended. It is time to stand alone.

With that said I understand that it is not reasonable to just abandon the traditional lifestyle of having immediate access to electricity and running water. There is a plan in action here. I’m not just flying in the wind… Step one is to bank a healthy purse and acquire a van to serve as a temporary dwelling/transport. To achieve this I’ll be employing a technique self dubbed “grid surfing”. Its kinda like couch surfing but no couch. It does still require the goodwill of others but it is closer to a barter system. I’ve managed to nail down a favorable situation and likely this temporary bout of transient life will prompt more blogging.

End Game; I have my mind body and soul set on converting a shipping container into a permanent/mobile dwelling. This is a photo of the desired container for conversion.





Title; GOD ANTENNAE, Photography by Ross W ©2015

I had a dream; criminal alien force

My eyes jut open and my body gasps for breath but there is none to be had. Instinctively my head wants to follow my ears to the loud cracking, crushing sounds. I can’t move. Staring into the infinite white of my studio ceiling a prisoner in my own body I watch the shapes and shadows. As though in flight, falling from the sky in a crashing plane debris washes over me. It tumbles and turns, bits of plastic, carbon and steel rain down and splash onto the floor. Shattered glass hums in my ears and the dark shapes appear. People of purpose. I am being visited by criminal minds. Dressed in darkness they do not speak, they make a sound but it’s not of this world. Some sort of code. As they chirp, blip and beep it all becomes apparent. I’ve been paralyzed, they have rendered me a spectator. I can’t speak because the fear paralyses my vocal chords. I can feel the sweat puddle around my body as I struggle to power my will, to power my body, to take control of this chaos.

They are looking for something? No… Just destruction, they lay waste to everything in my tiny space of solitude here on planet earth. It all lays tattered, smashed, broken and ground into near dust.

In through the window they came, somehow silently but with hurricane force. I can see the glint of tiny glass crystals pouring scattered rays of light across the room. Clearly shattered with skill, speed and precision.

They are moving something in. I can only see the shapes as they pass over me, blocking out the light. The shapes are passing as though I’m laying on the tracks. Watching a train pass by from the grounds eye view. I can hear them pouring the contents over and over. Clicking, snap, beeping all the while between each other. It sounds like water rushing over the falls, a near deafening sound.

I am surrounded by them, tall and suspicious. No discerning features. A sort of fictional, factual existence.

Leaving one at a time I counted tens of bodies, quickly shrieking by as they exit the same way they entered. They dispatch with such great speed the entire contents of my studio is vacuumed out the window and in tow of their otherworldly charge from this place.

Immediately I can move, I feel the grounding grip slipping from my limbs. Quickly I stand and crash into the wall. I crash over and over, watching myself out of body fumble around the kitchen. Grasping the stove and the counter, the spinning. I vomit over and over, watching myself in past and present fight this strange temporal loop I’ve been caught up in. Like a small fish in a big current. Sloshing end over end until I’m diminished to crawling on my hands and knees. Dragging my pale face over the floor. I want to see it. I want to see what they were doing. What have they left here?

Groping my way to the closet, in a blurry haze I see a document. Carefully folded like a Chinese fan, together it reads “BLOCKADE” and when unraveled reads nonsense. Words mixed and matched from the past, present and future. Continuously shifting, disappearing with a gentle hush and reappearing in random beeps and bops. Never fixed, always fluid.

Laying, slumped against the wall like a wounded soldier I blindly reach my hand into the closet. Grasping for anything, and something is what I find. It is a block, made of something not from this world. There are thousands of them, maybe tens or hundreds of thousands. Standing in the closet, floor to roof unrestrained. They stand in disarray, appearing to be on the edge of pouring out any moment. The blocks don’t fall, it defies the laws of this planet. Gravity should tear them down into a sea of polished shapes on the floor.

I had a dream.

I had a dream

Last night I had a dream, it was a strange dream. There were three men, similar to something like the three stooges. And these men were insensibly rambling over and over about a weskit. I am sure this is a word I have read in something. I turned to google to define this word. This was the result; Weskit:

A waistcoat, a sleeveless upper-body garment. It is usually worn over a dress shirt and necktie and below a coat as a part of most men’s formal wear. It is also sported as the third piece of the three-piece male business suit.

Well there you have it lol. I was dreaming about a vest. This is not the only dream I’ve had over the past six months though. I have started to dream A LOT. I find myself waking and often talking to myself. Often elaborate conversations with hand gestures ect… One night, I jumped outta bed like a ninja and landed on my feet. I’ve dreamed of fighting and in my sleep headbutt the wall lol. I really don’t know how to explain this sudden onset of memorable dreams. I have not dreamed of anything I can remember for years, since I was very very young.