As the meme goes, one does not just walk into this type of project. The planning alone demands a keen sense of the unknown. If you don’t have a clear understanding of the parts needed, everything stops until you do. I learned a lot, as in about 85 new things I didn’t know before. Like how to burn solder right through wire insulation when you need to.[Author's note: shortly before this project was completed, the California company that was to promote it as a science fair kit went under. The company returned under new management but was no longer interested.]
I’ve also learned a trick of the trade. When you build a prototype, say on the breadboard, once it works you are going to dismantle it. Take note of the order in which you did so. There will be a tendency to pull out the largest pieces first and the resistors last. Ah, that is the reverse order to build the pilot model. And, putting the resistors in first takes away part of the danger of a premature test probe burnout.
Next, there is a whole technology to pilot lights. You don't just plug one into the circuit, as it will consume power meant for operations. A varying load would cause the light to flicker or dim. Worse, if the bulb burnt out, the entire apparatus would not work. I need to find a source that teaches this. I could add a relay, but that is the most expensive option. The “on” light is going to be another challenge, since it is another of those things you are “supposed to know”.
The unusually fine weather had me busy eight hours. With the usual breaks, I mean. Man does not live by cod fritters alone. My desk is five feet over ground level and my window faces the street. You might say watching the world go by. But Einstein said it was relative. Is it the world passing by or getting passed by? It depends, I suppose, on the value of the time it takes. I know I’d rather be here than walking down most streets.
Trivia. You heard of food chains? I learned that very few food chains have more than five levels. The grass feeds the grasshoppers which feed the insectivores which feed the hawks. The reason is the energy needed gets higher as you move up the chain and each level is less efficient. The hawk requires tremendous energy overhead to kill and eat every day. And each level only benefits by ingestion 10% of the available energy from the level it feeds upon. Thus, there are 1,000 gnus and wildebeests for every lion or tiger in Africa. I don't know the stats of potatoes, but I sure do like potatoes.
Formerly, I thought it was competition between upper level consumers (of the food chain) that kept their numbers in check. That's subtle, so I'll explain. You see, even if they did not compete, the energy is just not there [to begin with]. What other trivia came along on a lazy day like this? Well, Walmart has employee lawsuits in 31 states concerning unpaid overtime. The richest people in the world stiffing their own employees. There’s trouble a-brewing there.
[Author's note: by 2014, there are numerous documentaries and on-line videos concerning the British arms sales, implicating vast corruption at the government level. At the time the following paragraph was written, I did not know about any such news reports, so what I wrote was independently researched and my not agree with big media. They are more biased than I am, you see.]
I also looked at GDP figures for countries in Europe, for comparison. Strange how England is still the fifth wealthiest country without any domestic industries. Wait, they do have one. Guns. Since the 1950s, they have been selling guns to anyone with the money. Backward, oppressive regimes, dictators, London is open for business. Guess who sold all those guns to Idi Amin? Or those “defensive” jets to Indonesia? What war? Did you see a war?
Read, tinker, listen, think, but I did not play any music. I’ve maxed out and needed a break. Electronics provided that. Me, the coffee pot, the radio, and some fine summer weather. I thought about the music but that’s mild compared to learning to play it. I think in my lifetime, I’ve learned less than 200 songs. That is actually quite a lot, especially if you draw the line between doing a good job and faking it. Also, my bass (the Danelectro Loghorn) is showing signs of age that mean major overhaul soon.
A spot check over the weekend on real estate shows that prices are indeed climbing. It doesn’t make sense, so I’m still holding back. There are too many millions out of work or underemployed for a sustained recovery. Buying a house still requires a job that pays at least $18 per hour and there are none of those left in Florida.
ADDENDUM
Music keeps the mind sharp. The most complicated piece I’ve ever played has emerged as “Spooky”, with its pseudo-jazz chords and modulations. But not by much though, I’ve done some serious country and pop with progressive bass parts that were sophisticated where “Spooky” is relegated to merely complicated. I’m not a fan of upper fret work, give me a good boogie beat on the lower strings any time.
However, that’s where the thinking part comes in. The lyrics to the song are devoid of much meaning. I’ve got this thing back of my mind that says spoof the song and call it “Stoopid”. About women who say they want something but when it arrives they can’t deal with it. Love is kind of spooky with a crazy little girl like you. Weird Al, eat my dust.
Actually, I did undertake twenty years ago to learn some guitar licks. Not learn to play guitar, which I have repeatedly failed at, but just those ten percent of the licks you hear ninety percent of the time. Two barriers stopped me. First, I did not know what they were called and guitar teachers proved to be no help there. Second, I could not find a guitar teacher who would teach me exclusively those licks.
Each quickly detected I was trying to bypass years of lessons. Nobody consciously refused, but they were just not mentally equipped to teach what I wanted, they knew only the long and grinding road. No joke intended, but if the Florida airline schools were guitar teachers, there is no way anyone would have learned to fly an airliner without learning to land and take off first. I fully intended to focus full energy on those ten licks, which, in the end, is exactly how I wound up learning the electric bass instead. There was nobody to steer me wrong.
And, man, can I play the hell out of those ten licks. Well, okay today I know a hundred of them, but that is where I started. There are few things as satisfying as having some swell-headed guitarist, or better yet, another bassist with that look on the face that spells, “How did you do that? It doesn’t sound the same when I play it.” It’s called experience, son. A clinical psychologist would say such guitarists and me in the same room constitute an interesting dynamic.
