Oh, Jasper!

One of the top animated films in the past several years, I stumbled across this web-based version of The Mysterious Geographic Explorations of Jasper Morello.

Originally viewed this on Wholphin, and I’m greatly anticipating the next episode of this series. For more information, check out Jasper’s official site.

After long thinking that neighborhood markets, pubs, and cafes’ll get suburbanites back into the social realm, I also realize that those changes are oft-fought-against for the sake of privacy and quiet. Plus, they’re tough to get done anyway, with zoning and building. These are some of the reasons why they’re out in the suburbs, right?

But when Inhabitat realized this piece about living walls, I’m wondering about other methods to get people interacting with the folks in their neighborhood. Urban dwellers are much more akin to this, but will this lead to social progress elsewhere, too?

And I wonder…how much would my property value rise if my development was fenced in by something like this:

Green Living Technology + Urban Farming = Tasty Snacks

Then again, we might already be opposed.

At 3,000 gallons a minute, the outflow keeps this water at a constant 64 degrees.

With my town’s 90 degrees, I’m reminded of this summer’s stop in dusty Santa Rosa for a dip into the Blue Hole. It lets lovely lazying on the steps with feet plunged in while observing a skunkling skirting ’round the rim. I can only imagine what one must have felt in 1930, storming through Route 66 in a droptop, eyes all scuttered up with dust, only to find what is, I’d say, the most refreshing site west of the Mississippi, given its otherwise arid summer surroundings.

(Thanks to Jamie Jensen for pointing this one out.)

While shopping around for an online bank, I came across SmartyPig, a mix of personal finance and social networking that’s primarily alluring because of its 3.9% APY. While I’ll spare you the detailed benefits of letting friends and family check in on your progress of saving for goals (click here and here for reviews of the service), I’m guessing that one would have to run with a pretty understanding crowd to share such personal information with ‘em, especially since that sharing translates into helping from time to time.

Then again, I’m just not one to run my finances like an NPR fund drive. Sure, Smartypiggies won’t be interrupting Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me to ask for a few bucks, but the service seems a bit intrusive, both for the piggies who open up their bank accounts for viewing and to the folks who see how slowly that piggy saves for a down payment.

That said, SmartPiggy sounds wonderful for certain circumstances, such as weddings when we already shroud financial assistance in bathroom towels and china sets as we peruse registries. And SmartPiggy is golden for those folks who just eat up the APY and keep their screens shut.

(I was, by the way, rather impressed by ING Direct, and I’ll be happy to save quietly in that corner of the ‘net.)

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[Image: From Library of Dust by David Maisel, published by Chronicle Books

Reminiscent of my many trips past the Northampton State Hospital, tho’ even that’s being quickly turned family housing now.

Recently lent Watchmen to a friend who can’t get over the graphic novelty of the thing, as he isn’t used to moving back and forth between image and text, so when this trailer appears, I excitedly wonder how the film will replicate Moore’s formal play. Will we get a pamphlet at the door and be asked to read to ourselves during portions of the film? Or will the screen go black and we’ll have to adjust to five minute long audio segments?

Prolly neither, I’d say, but don’t despair. Book v. Movie should never happen, especially in these market conditions.

Then again, cross-genre might just occur with all the peripheries we’ll have for the film, from wikis to websites. The key? Whoever watches the Watchmen must read them as well.

Perhaps ambition gets the best, as it’s tough doing anything but working (and playing) from the road. Most memorable is the South, and starting in Pine Bluff, AR, we’re loaded with American worry even with the beautiful leer of the Ozarks in the rear view mirror, as the highway of abandoned homes leads us to New Orleans, the winner of our ‘Best of Trip’ culinary award, and  home of the 9th Ward. The damage, in this year, is startling, especially given the pace of a highrise’s rise in New York (better still: Sacramento):

Then again, there’s a strangeness is taking the Post-Katrina Audio Tour, even though proceeds go to a good place and folks get to see what still needs doing in the wonderful city (I’d love you in a flash, N.O., but the crime rate fights me off and away, nevermind those rumors of Central Park after dark).

Further on, our trip to Lafayette features a crowd around a corpse on the highway median, though we don’t realize what we see until we come across a bleach white cross in the same spot two days after the first encounter.

That thought alone keeps me awake through Alabama and into Chattanooga, where we eat a regrettably delicious breakfast at the Yellow Deli. The cuisine is amazing, no doubt, but YD’s handout is overly suspicious, and we find ourselves lurching over our first encounter with the Twelve Tribes.  Or the Twelve Tribes. Order your spin based on your preference, of course, but I won’t be heading back anytime soon.

Still further, blurred (and then cramped) stops in MA, NH, NC, TN, TN, TN, NM, and AZ before heading back home, were the summer will end with bike rides, dog walks, and knee surgery.

Am at the Lobster in Topeka, KS, sipping a Lobsterita I might add, and explaining O’Nan’s book to the bartender when she says, “People on the coasts always make fun of this place, but I like it. Pays my bills.”

I feel pretty bad, of course, because we’re only there to celebrate the kitchiness of the place the night before a friend will wed. Perhaps tho’, there’s no better seafood supplier in the Midwest, and RL is doing a service for us all.

Admittedly, the cheddar bay biscuits are tasty, tho’ they’re also as salty as a salty, salty dog. No matter. Nothing can excuse Darden Restaurants with what they’re doing our country’s waistline.

Wednesday: rain in Utah, snow above in its mountains, and hail in high winds of Wyoming.

Thursday: sitting in a Topekan cellar waiting out a twister.

Altogether: driving ‘cross the salt plains and into Salt Lake City at eightish, with the sun lightin’ up the green hills surrounding town. Whitecaps looming past Wyoming’s southern horizon, only coming true in Colorado as we rolled through at the start of a Rockies game. Post-twister pre-nightline Eastern Kansas where the cumulus pinked and blacked.

Though this is less about me and more about the trip, driving 24 hours in two days got tired. Even my dog was bored, refusing to get back in the car at rest stops. Never want to set the tent up in the dark again and glad to be in a Kansan hotel for several days. Next in our queue? Louisiana, Appalachia, the Eastern Seaboard, the Bible Belt, and the Southwest.

We’re starting by letting go. See ya in Salt Lake City, UT.