I’m Randy Karels: a computer programmer and photographer currently living in Santa Barbara. More
I admire good parents and pastry chefs and those that can backup semi’s with long trailers. I like sharp knives, patches of sunlight on walls, worn stone steps, and my binder clip wallet. I find cynicism boring. I try to avoid pot roast, business-speak, stress, and stepping in puddles when I’m wearing socks. I think about things more than I actually do them, and had to tie my keys to my belt one summer because I lost them so frequently. I was 29 at the time. I wish I could eat sushi everyday, but it is too expensive. While wandering the Barnes and Noble, I saw two large signs above the sale racks: “Bargain Self-improvement” “Bargain Religion”. This amused me. I thought “very true…”, and continued to the calendars. Western North Dakota is beautiful, and I’m glad few people vacation there. I think life is good in the city and in the country and confusing everywhere else. Especially in Super Targets when i can’t find what i’m looking for. Music and authenticity keep me going. The album you shouldn’t miss is Toumani Diabate’s New Ancient Strings. I turned 33 this year, am a bad long-distance communicator, usually have my cell phone turned off, and frequently sit on emails for weeks before I reply to them. Ladies and gentlemen, we can acheive world peace with this image. In the next year, I hope to get off my ass once in a while and walk up a steep hill.
My email is:
An ambulance screams through the intersection, sirens wailing. The driver has his head thrown back, sharing a laugh with the person riding next to him.
A huge limb from a 100 year old fig tree cracks and crashes to the ground as I walk by.
Welcome to California: a kid in a damp wetsuit rides his skateboard away from the ocean with his surfboard under his arm.
A day of rare, vulnerable conversation. The first harvest from a long fallow garden.
Overheard on the street: “I’m so poor, I can’t even pay attention…”
A woman using her laptop at the coffee shop carefully reads something on the screen, then slowly covers her face with her hands and begins to cry.
Observed: a man attempting to drive a Lamborghini and having one hell of a time with the clutch. People stare and point from the sidewalk.
Overheard on my walk to work: a skilled violinist practicing in a bright yellow house, two doves cooing, three jackhammers, a well-oiled bike zipping by, a water fountain bubbling from a garden hidden by a tall fence, and church bells ringing the top of the hour.
For the last month, the trees along my walk to work have been filled with bright lavender blossoms. In the morning the petals that fell during the night litter the sidewalk. It smells wonderful.
Observed: a woman spends half an hour meticulously cleaning out her car, vacuuming it, hand washing it, and toweling it off. And then, right before she drives away, she uses duct tape to reattach her side view mirror.
Seen in Las Vegas: an old, decrepit neon sign on the border between the retro downtown strip and the no-man’s-land of blighted casinos and alcoholics’ bars: “The Future Starts Here.”
The new unofficial slogan for Las Vegas originally heard shouted by an announcer of a stunt motorcycle street performance but found to fit nicely for the entire city: “Look out folks, it looks like something exciting is about to happen.” And then nothing does.
Well, Jamie and I are getting settled on the coast. Living in Santa Barbara is like living in an aquarium: the temperature is always nice, there is somebody cleaning it regularly, all of the buildings look the same, and there are a lot of beautiful fish swimming around.
Now, where did I put those sandals…
A Shaker design principle: “Don’t make something unless it is both necessary and useful, but if it is both necessary and useful, don’t hesitate to make it beautiful.” (via)
Quote from Douglas Hofstadter: It always takes longer than you expect, even when you take Hofstadter’s Law into account.
You know you’re talking to someone from the midwest when you hear someone say “I’m sorry” when they really mean “excuse me.”
Overheard: a man and woman talking in Arches National Park near the trailhead for a 0.75 mile, well-marked, semi-paved trail.
Woman: “Wait, do we need a map?”
Man: “Honey, if we get lost on this trail we deserve to die.”
Today: high of 26 degrees and sunny. A jogger passes by the house in shorts and a t-shirt (with no sign of hat, gloves or any other winter gear). Spring fever is in the air, I guess.
Observed: signs along I-29 in North Dakota. All had simple designs and huge letters. Most are funded by a local anonymous philanthropist and say things like “Be Thankful”, “Be Kind”, or “Forgive”. Another is funded by a local psych clinic and says “Stop faking being happy.”
Observed: a man holding a plastic grocery sack hiding behind a dumpster in the middle of the night.
Quote: “This is all life is: a collection of tiny details.”
Seen for the first time: my niece’s (non-gas related) smile. I hope she starts giggling before I leave.
As northerners will tell you, most of us go into hibernation of some sort in the winter. It is different for everyone. For me, it is a peculiar desire to eat heavy food and drink alcohol, combined with the disorientation of thinking it is three hours later than it actually is. I plug in the car if its gonna get cold, and am ready for bed at a quarter to eight.
This year was the hardest I can remember, and I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was some vague residual effects of the assault. Or working alone from home in a large, deserted house. Or the ending of eras.
Whatever it was, emails when unsent, Netflix sat unwatched, and books stayed on the shelf. Forget going out or returning calls… I just wanted to pull the comforter over my head and wait until morning.
But, thankfully, I’m coming out of it now. It was -30 this week, but the big thaw is underway.
It started a few weeks ago. Jamie, Chris, Andrew and I had finished moving on an exhausting and comparatively balmy day of moving, boxes, stairs, more stairs, and storage lockers. The sun was just setting when I returned the rental truck. Pink and blue skies in the east. Puddles in the road. White smoke drifting straight up.
And suddenly: a huge swarm of birds from out of nowhere, loud and chaotic, swirling and swooping and turning, seeming unsure of where they were headed, or what was leading them, but all flying west, west, west.
Time to wake up.
i hope you enjoyed your stay. please come back and stay a while. unless otherwise noted, everything here is copyright 2006 by me. please respect that. word.
