Energy-hungry suburbs eat up urban savings. Interesting results:
According to the authors, suburban emissions account for about half of all US contributions to climate change. In fact, the energy consumption in suburbia is so high that it actually cancels out any energy conserved by those living in densely populated urban cores.
Technology didn’t kill middle class jobs, public policy did. Short post about a paper titled Don’t Blame the Robots.
Rather, we might look at an agenda that would rein in finance and CEO pay, restore the strength of labor unions, and include a more balanced trade policy.
When writing code, less is very often more. In the moving image, it’s called editing, as it is with the written word, though the standards aren’t always quite the same across different formats. Taking care takes so much more time; it’s living with the material rather than trying to pass quickly through it.
Some things are actually simple, too. Zen, perhaps, is then the act of ending with a final cut without the heartache, or the travel: it’s time warping to the heart of the matter. Perhaps, then, the no-mind is really more the absence of this typical amount of space between start and end.
I used to think I wanted to be a robot. Feelings were too, felt. I was getting caught on the threads, and I wished the matter wasn’t there. I wasn’t thinking of travel. Shortcuts seemed impossible, or at least worthy of despair.
What I found, though, was that the feelings need to be felt. You have to trudge through the sludge to know there is another shore with cleaner weather. The path can be foggy. Problems are allowed to be hard.
It’s great when we can defy gravity, leap to the final edit, but so often it’s only by sifting through hours of footage that we catch the seconds worth saving. Our brains must be trained to see what it is we want, to know what we need to get to the other side.
Flow formats come in many shapes and sizes. They’re prizes, second chances at lost horizons and ancient guises. Sands of time drip away with white noise wishes, subtle kisses of rock on rock on rock to glass. Hourglasses fill filigrees of axon, tendon, gold; bought and sold, the stories are untold but whispered quietly into caves drowned by the sea.