Location: Roseburg, Oregon. Asking price: $600,000.
![That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/welcometohell-150x150.jpg "That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]")
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
— Bob Dylan
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assassin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-torture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man’s forehead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
Haven’t viewed the vid yet. They better unload it as soon as possible, the market is turning. Come spring they’ll be stuck with it, or take a loss.
I hope the market turns. My son et. ux. are having number 2 in a couple of weeks. They need a new place but were really discouraged when the looked last summer.
Not everyone is a seller.
Add a room or 2, maybe remodel a few things, stay where they are, save some money.
Moving is expensive and you never recoup the loss.
Nice try. They are living in a rented condo.
For as long as I can remember I was told that home ownership was part of the American Dream, that I could never be fully a man unless I had a house and everything that went with it: stability, an investment, a place to raise a family, and so on. Every American knows this by heart.
But that dream was never my dream. I never once had the idea or desire to acquire real estate, to “settle down”. The reasons for this are unknown to me. My path was not an ordinary one. Even today at 68 I shudder at the thought of what my life would be like had I been tied down to a piece of land. I would have felt like Gulliver after meeting the Lilliputians.
Of course I can see the beauty in that home, but the beauty I have sought was the beauty of true freedom, of being beholden to none—not even to a woman—of waking up in a tent in a foreign land and having no idea of what the day will bring. My worries were not property taxes, zoning restrictions, fixing the plumbing, or repairing the roof, but rather finding water, locating a decent campsite and—at almost all costs—avoiding the locals and the animals. I didn’t always succeed.
The Opportunity Costs of my path in life have been the obvious ones. I do not lament them.
I’ve been watch EC since the beginning, even before he started this series, and its been fun to see him linked here as well. I will miss seeing him on this house.
Is the housing market really about to turn?
I married my wife, knowing that she wanted to build a house. (I already had a house.) She’d lived in a trailer. She had 10 acres. We moved in two years ago.
Beautiful house and I’ll bet very well constructed knowing & watching this fella.
But I already am regretting my latest move to WA and you couldn’t pay me to live in OR. Any talk of secession by part of the state is fanciful.
Also a house isn’t a home without some leaded glass.
@MMinWA,
Glad you’re here in Washington, which like Oregon contains a lot of us conservatives who are not going to let the fucking lefties in Seattle and Portland run us out of our state. We can do what we can to cause the pendulum to swing back.
Alright, I’ll be the guy to state the obvious: The best part of the Essential Craftsman series isn’t the nice house or the tools that he uses or anything else. The best part of the Essential Craftsman series is the Essential Craftsman himself. Scott Wadsworth could not have hired an actor to play the role of a kind, decent, talented general contractor any better than he himself shows us in his videos. He illustrates the simple joy of doing a manual task and doing it well.
Well put, AZ, and quite true.
I totally agree. Mr. Wadsworth clearly loves his work, those he works with, and where he works. I completely admire his fundamental approach to life as revealed in his videos. In the past 2 years, I’ve built a number of structures here on our homestead and I have referred to his videos on several occasions. Scott has become one of my heroes.
Na, Oregons housing markets red hot. Was thru Roseburg Or,,,,,last week, Calif, plates as far as one could see. Sold my North River fishing boat to a gent from there, a logging community, a Jr College, a larger VA facility, and some killer hunting and fishing areas.
Hwy 138 takes you up to Diamond lake, along the Umpqua River, sadly this past summers fire damage is messy. We had four 20 minute traffic stops, headed to Coos bay, and six, coming home. I already miss the boat.
In Reno, looked at four seat “side by side” side Razors. Hoping to Order tomorrow, we’re told its a crap shoot as to when they arrive, and basically you get whatever color comes in. 34.000 168 hp, and 18 inches of travel which adjusts on the fly.
Rode in my old first Sgts, two seat today. I drove to Virginia City, and we hauled ass, Donny drove home, thought I was gonna die. Which is exactly why I’m getting one, only a four seater. Zero dust on the goat roads right now,
GV, got you on the list for a wild ride!
Dirk