Loc: Sunnyvale, CA, USA
Well, Max, we're really not all that adaptable. We're all about the quasienvironment. We don't adapt. And we really don't adapt the environment, either, except as an indirect result of our quasienvironmental adaptations. We build the quasienvironment, clothes ( a second skin ), housing/shelter/buildings ( second skin ), we're all still basically jungle creatures that build the jungle with us to sustain us, we exoskeletalize our central nervous system, we extend our foot with the car, we build cities, suburbs, hooches, libraries, we publish books and blogs, etc, etc.
We don't adapt - We adapt whatever our quasienvironment is to sustain us, whether a Borneo man or a Bay Area technologist. The truth is that when most men have to adapt to their environment rather than employ a quasienvironmental or environmental adaption, they don't get to live long enough to pull it off.
Right now our quasienvironmental adaptions have put the environmental adaptations on a pretty unsustainable collision course.
So, now, obviously, with me, anyway, it seems the obvious thing is with our quasienvironmental adaptations - There's no other place for any meaningful changes. We're really not all that hardy and adaptable. It's all about the quasienvironment. Screw that up and the human species is toast.
We are fragile and delicate - Artists know this, it's the muse of a lot of stuff. We are so fragile. Our strength is our quasienvironment ( and pay attention to the artists of the quasienvironment ). There will always be roaches, but there may not be humans.
Boy, enough of this for a few days - Way too dreary for holiday, Independence Day ( well, I guess these days it's more like Dependence Day ). Yeah, I can't hack this. Life's too short. Had a ball today picking strawberries within salt water smell, then had leftover pizza with my girls and wife, a slice of strawberry-rhubard pie for myself, then we split a fresh strawberry pie made on the spot at the farm, fresh apple juice slushies, then drove through undulating fields with a magnificent view of the Pacific, to a beach, Sunset Beach, with miles of magnificent unspoilt beach. A day in Eden.
My wife and girls are disappearing for a month to Santa Barbara, a stint for the girls at a surfing camp, etc ( they were going to Maine, but this Santa Barbara thing is better ), so everyday for me has been Friday. Life is short.
When they're all gone next week, maybe I can hack the dreary real world.
Oh hey, I picked up a Francis Coppola zinfandel for dinner. I don't know if you get that back East, but if you do, Coppola wine is outrageously spendid. I like Zins because they're probably America's best grape, but his Pinto Noirs, Cabs, etc are about as good as wine can get, and they're not a wallet killer, either ( well, not out here, but mileage may vary ). Now, I realllllly like Two Buck Chuck, but CA $9.45 for Coppola's Zinfandel was a steal for a Zin of this caliber. 13.5 alcohol, so it was a very good year
A few years ago at a bistro in Montreal we had a bottle of the Coppola wine... so good we asked where in the city we could get it. Managed to score a couple of bottles before we split back home. Worth every penny.
I think we're both hardy and adaptable - and delicate and fragile. Context is everything.
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