detritus

metallic detritus from the property, Cedaredge, Colorado, March ©2025 hopkins/neoscenes.
metallic detritus from the property, Cedaredge, Colorado, March ©2025 hopkins/neoscenes.

After taking more that four tons of ferrous and non-ferrous metal scrap to recycling in the process of landscaping and clearing up stuff on the property, I occasionally kept smaller pieces out of curiosity. They found an appropriate location on the wood stove which I’ve used each winter as the main heating source. I wish I had been intent on temporarily saving more of the objects that I uncovered, or at least photographing them. There was such an endless variety. I have redistributed the thirty or so horseshoes—one to each visitor, and a bunch to JR—and kept two for posterity (again, temporary, I’m not taking those to Iceland!).

The Call

[ED: This is a remixed version of a text I wrote in 2009 for Isabelle to accompany a show of her webcam composites at the Cabrillo Gallery in Aptos, California.]

Detail, SPAN 1 (2007-2009) Mike O'Callaghan - Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge, Hoover Dam, Nevada webcam composite/ digital Lightjet print, 67.5 in x 93.5 in, Isabelle Jenniches, ©2009.
Detail, SPAN 1 (2007-2009), Mike O’Callaghan – Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge, Hoover Dam, Nevada webcam composite/ digital Lightjet print, 67.5″ x 93.5″, Isabelle Jenniches, ©2009.
The Call emerges out of the long-term inter-net-work practice of artist Isabelle Jenniches who has in the past worked in a wide variety of creative net-based activities. “The Call” is one of a number of process-oriented pieces she created based on the availability of generic user-controlled Internet web-cams: remote-controlled tele-vision, as it were. The works are constructed over long periods of time spent observing the selected scenario, remotely. Life-time spent observing the world through a periscope while submerged in the endless flux of data that now flows around us and through us. Thousands of images are made during a methodological process of deep and distant looking through this mediated network eye. The extended seeing and repetitive digital stitching operations on the thousands of gathered images acts to frame a meditative and ultimately grounded daily routine. The cumulative practice approaches the classical Zen expression—there is no web-cam, there is no PhotoShop, there is only the Void—while the creative expression itself arises through the post-Cartesian possibilities of a commonly accessible network interface. This makes for a work that is deeply connected to the extended tele-body of this present era. The eye that sees beyond the horizon, from the silence of her studio under the redwoods. The eye that sees all. It turns this all-seeing eye of the surveillance society into a creative tool to explore an elemental and vivifying aspect of be-ing—as framed by the passage of time. The more things change, the more complexity surfaces through each individual’s model of reality. Formally recalling David Hockney’s early Polaroid SX-70 time-space collage transits, Jenniches’ work presents an intimate and intense personal vision of a scope rarely manifest in the click-through eye-candy world of the net. It demands attention and draws the eye ever closer with the seduction inherent in all high-resolution photographic imagery. And at the precise moment when the viewer is engaged in microscopic interpolation, the work becomes the macroscopic big picture.
John Hopkins, Sydney, August 2009; Colorado 2025 (https://neoscenes.net/blog)

to be scattered

When the time comes. These are the places to be scattered to the winds, the sky, the earth, the cosmos: stardust to stardust.

Warm Springs Cliff, Dinosaur National Monument, Colorado:
40°31’39.92″N, 108°55’48.08″W

40°31'39.92"N, 108°55'48.08"W
40°31’39.92″N, 108°55’48.08″W

North end of Hrísey, Eyjafjarðarsýsla, Iceland:
66° 1’34.85″N, 18°24’35.91″W

66° 1'34.85"N, 18°24'35.91"W
66° 1’34.85″N, 18°24’35.91″W

Center of the Universe, San Luis Valley, Colorado:
37°39’48.16″N, 105°49’45.22″W

37°39'48.16"N, 105°49'45.22"W
37°39’48.16″N, 105°49’45.22″W

now reading

Knausgård, Karl Ove. My Struggle: Book Three: Boyhood. Translated by Don Bartlett. 1st Archipelago Books. Brooklyn, NY: Archipelago Books, 2012.

Actually just finished that one, and already into:

Knausgård, Karl Ove. My Struggle: Book Four. Translated by Don Bartlett. 1st Archipelago Books. Brooklyn, NY: Archipelago Books, 2015.

It’s not easy to pinpoint why this several-thousand-page series is such a compelling read. I always shuddered at the “couldn’t put it down” genre, but there are several elements that I’m aware of as I read. The primary is a resonance with my own past, along with the formal aspects of remembrance in resurrecting the past in detail: memory. Another is the progression of what is a single stream of a life: the detailed descriptions come and go, all the while building up a self-image of the writer, warts and all. Not clear what finishing the series will feel like, but the ride is not simply a pleasant mediated diversion from the ongoing shambolic and horrible devolution of Amurikan society, it is a reflection of the Self, a call to introspection. A further resonance is felt because I spent significant time teaching in Norway, in many of the places where Knausgård’s story takes place—so there are many revelations and realizations about Norwegian society and its people.

Thanks Zander for bringing Karl Ove to my attention, this is quite the reading treat!

the capture of the administrative state

While there are plenty of paeans on what Amurika *is*—the City upon a Hill, The Great Experiment, a Melting Pot, the Global Police Officer, and so on—a nation cannot function without its administrative state. At the moment when that administrative state is fully encircled and infiltrated by oligarchic actors that threaten to usurp the powers inherent in the state, the nation itself is at great risk.

fealty beyond constitution, the White House, Washington, DC, March ©1990 hopkins/neoscenes.
fealty beyond constitution, the White House, Washington, DC, March ©1990 hopkins/neoscenes.

The relationship between the administrative state and a nation’s survival exists in precarious balance. While administrative institutions provide essential continuity and capacity-to-act that strengthens state resilience against complex challenges, this relationship becomes severely compromised when oligarchic interests capture these same institutions. The administrative apparatus ideally serves as both operational backbone and democratic counterweight to concentrated power, but cannot fulfill either function when redirected toward private gain rather than public purpose. This slide towards a fully parasitic oligarchy has been underway in some form for the duration of the nation, but following the demise of any guardrails on money in elections, the process, as it nears completion, threatens the fundamental viability of the nation.

When administrative bodies become extensions of oligarchic influence, a terminal cascade begins: public trust erodes as citizens perceive state unresponsiveness, inequality intensifies through biased resource allocation, and state autonomy weakens as decision-making becomes constrained by elite preferences. This capture undermines the fundamental legitimacy that allows nation-states to persist through crises and transitions. The survival of the nation-state thus depends significantly on maintaining administrative institutions that are sufficiently autonomous from both political volatility and oligarchic capture—a challenge that grows increasingly difficult in an era of transnational pressures, vast income inequality, and concentrated economic power.

Looking at the relationship between the administrative state, oligarchic influence, and nation-state survival in the contemporary United States reveals several concerning patterns:

The US is experiencing significant tension between its administrative institutions and democratic legitimacy. Federal agencies face challenges from both increasing political polarization and economic concentration. Regulatory bodies like the SEC, EPA, and FCC operate in an environment where industry influence through lobbying, revolving door employment, and campaign finance creates persistent, creeping risks of capture. This dynamic has contributed to public perception that government serves elite interests rather than any common welfare.

The administrative state’s credibility has been further stressed by political attacks characterizing it as an unelected “deep state” disconnected from democratic accountability. This narrative, combined with real instances of special interest influence, has accelerated erosion of institutional trust. Recent polling shows historically low confidence in government institutions among Americans across the political spectrum. This development considered in light of the fact that very few Amurikans even know what services many departments of the Executive Branch perform. Or what the three branches of the Federal government are to begin with. This measure of trust deficit is a fundamental challenge to state legitimacy and stability, as is the lack of fundamental education in civics. There is much evidence that the administrative apparatus is struggling to maintain both technical competence and perceived democratic responsiveness in a polarized environment where economic power is increasingly concentrated among a tiny group of individuals and corporate entities.

From a Confucian perspective, the remedy to such administrative capture lies not primarily in structural reforms but in moral revitalization. Confucian philosophy would interpret oligarchic interference as a symptom of ethical decay among both governing elites and society. The solution requires cultivating virtuous leadership (junzi) that views its position as a sacred trust rather than an opportunity for personal gain. Administrative officials must recommit to proper ritual conduct (li) that reinforces their obligations to serve the people rather than private interests (i.e., a demonstrated deference to the Constitution and to its moral framework, *not* obeisance to Dear Leader). This approach emphasizes that effective governance emerges not merely from institutional design but from the moral character of those who serve within institutions. Thus, the Confucian response would prioritize ethical self-cultivation among administrators and leaders, creating a moral ecology where serving the public good becomes internalized as the highest virtue, thereby restoring the proper relationship between state and society that sustains national cohesion and legitimacy.

The current Amurikan administration is clearly demonstrating an advanced state of acute moral decay. This is not a new development, but a culmination of a number of structurally-determined processes. Is there any possibility of wide-spread moral ‘recovery’? Perhaps, but it is crystal clear that the so-called leaders of the government are largely in the grip of a deeply corrupt fever of influence and power ruled by Machiavellian struggle and a blatant lust for power. Those who tear the administrative state down instead of examining their own hearts for moral clarity will be guilty—with little chance for redemption—both of the destruction of Self, but also the widespread destruction of stability and safety for millions of Others.

field work

field work, common eider duck (Somateria mollissima) nest on Hrísey, Eyjafjarðarsýsla, Iceland, June ©1990 hopkins/neoscenes.
field work, common eider duck (Somateria mollissima) nest on Hrísey, Eyjafjarðarsýsla, Iceland, June ©1990 hopkins/neoscenes.

first encounter

The first encounter with the Center of the Universe, San Luis Valley, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.
The first encounter with the Center of the Universe, San Luis Valley, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.

Mid-May 1981, we are camped off of County Road 114 along Saguache Creek, the boondocks. To spare our meager student incomes, George, Rick, and I went in on buying a huge canvas tent from one of the geology profs. We got permission from a rancher to pitch it on his land, not too far from Saguache, Colorado, where our Mines Geophysics Department Field Camp was headquartered, in the “Saguache Hilton“. As a money-saving move, the tent worked out pretty well until we realized that we had pitched it next to a large and very aggressive red ant colony, and there wasn’t a way to completely seal the large doors. I have a vague memory of cooking fuel being used at one point in a vain attempt to win the fight. We eventually bailed out after Rick broke his foot during a weekend rock-climbing expedition-gone-bad. We then ended up at the Hilton, though he was more spry on crutches—as a NCAA Div II champion athlete—than most folks are on two feet.

portrait, Rick and George, near Saguache, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.
portrait, Rick and George, near Saguache, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.

Yes, weekends at Field Camp were free-time, in more ways than one could imagine. One weekend launch highLight was a Friday night dance-party around a bonfire behind the mesa outside of town—Steve Cook had a huge sound system in his car, and so it was The B-52s under the stars. Even the local high school kids joined us and surely had their minds blown by the scene during “Rock Lobster” with all us Mines kids flopping around on the ground! Another involved getting over to the Great Sand Dunes—led by one of our profs, Bob Hamilton (aka Sheik Me-Bob-Bohami)—or, better yet, other times, without an ‘official’ chaperone. Consuming watermelons spiked with vodka while enjoying the view from the top of the dunes was considered the most desirable outcome, sand skiing was next on the list.

It’s late on Sunday evening at the Saguache (“Hilton”) Hotel. George, Rick and I have moved into the hotel for a week—instead of camping as we did prior. A group of guys in another field camp group will be out of town for a week and we bargained for the room with two cases of beer … not a bad deal! Camping was really great even tho’ the night-time temps have been in the 30s and we’ve gotten every type of weather from hail to snow to rain, etc. That’s usual for this area in the spring as we’re at 9,000-plus feet. Been doing a lot of intense geological exploration and mapping—miles of hiking each day, but everyone is pretty mellow, so we can work at our own pace. Learned a lot already. One more week of geology and then comes two weeks of seismic exploration and then one week each of gravity and electromagnetic prospecting. Overall the profs are letting us off easy and seem to be enjoying things as much as we are. It’s different to be out in the wide-open spaces and mountains with nothing else to worry about—no phone calls, no mail, no books. Hope to do an intense photo essay around town here. It’s the epitome of an impoverished western has-been town—the phone book consists of one page, both sides. — personal communications, June 1981
Saguache Crescent office, downtown Saguache, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.
Saguache Crescent office, downtown Saguache, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.

But, back to the encounter with the Center of the Universe: I first stumbled on this Place on one of those weekend expeditions from Saguache to the Great Sand Dunes. For reasons unknown I was driving to the Dunes from Saguache alone to meet up with a raucous crowd of geophysicist-in-training on that dune-top. As I motored past, there was no chance to resist the pull of the Center, and I was sucked into the cosmic vortex. Forced to stop, I made many photos of this singular and very simple building placed so auspiciously in the landscape, in the cosmos. Closer examination of this surfacing of universal energies brought the discovery of carnage in and around it. There evidently had been an early spring storm which had caught a herd of sheep by surprise. They took shelter inside the Center (the physical manifestation of the Center, that is). The entire herd died, so the house inside and out was strewn with desiccating corpses. Clustered among them were the small bodies of the new spring lambs. The relative humidity is extremely low in the San Luis Valley, so low, in fact, that organic matter often mummifies rather than rots. After shooting a roll of black-and-white film, I needed to get on to the Dunes.

The first encounter with the Center of the Universe, San Luis Valley, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.
The first encounter with the Center of the Universe, San Luis Valley, Colorado, May ©1981 hopkins/neoscenes.

I did not realize that that first cosmological encounter was to resonate and repeat years, decades into the future. After a very long and hot day of Bacchanalian pleasures among the dunes—hiking, sand-skiing, and enjoying one of those vodka-spiked watermelons on the top of the highest dune—we headed back to Saguache. I think it was George, Rick, and somebody else with me in Max, my old Toyota Corolla station wagon. I had removed the back seat to allow for more luggage space, so there was only one other seat, otherwise, extra passengers had to sit hunched-over on the flat deck. Memory is hazy. Again, the vortex of the Center impelled me to stop and force everyone out of the car. We wandered around and through, noting that there was a small artesian well in the middle of a 55-gallon drum that was sunken into the sediments about 20 meters to the east of the house. Despite almost 40 years of ravaged groundwater resources, it is still trickling to this day.

At any rate, I wanted to share the view and the atmosphere with friends. (“Nice guy,” they said of me later…).

I managed to finagle release from the last two weeks of camp as I had a job lined up with the Department Chair, Dr. Keller doing TDEM (Time-Domain Electro-Magnetic) surveys for geothermal energy exploration the rest of the summer, and, as they say, the rest is history.

The Center of the Universe became a cosmic pivot-point for me ever since that fateful summer diversion. I have stopped there many times, and taken or sent Others when in the region. Turns out that the area is something of a cosmic vortex. Just a few miles to the northwest, in Crestone, there is a Hindu ashram, a Buddhist temple, and a Carmelite monestary, dunno if any of those folks have a taste for spiked watermelon, but clearly there is something going on.

oblique

Turns out that this stasis/travelog, textually, is largely an oblique view of life. That is, it rarely explores the full-frontal texture of immediate living, and is skewed hard from the momentary intensity of be-ing. To rectify or not? Pre-existing thought patterns are pre-set to provide habitual observations rather than express the internal landscape of the moment in any detail. Projects have become projects through static repetition of vision: along the road’s verge; portraits; watching the sky. The patterns exist in accordance to Hebbs Rule and the struggle between excitatory and inhibitory synapses. But I will resist neuro-predestination derailing a search for the explicit, the direct, the idiosyncratic in my own temporary existence, as it is slowly consumed by hyper-rational societal stresses.

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.

in De Mille, Agnes. Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham. 1st ed. New York: Random House, 1991.

As life-time shifts into a higher potential for change, the level of chaos increases, feeding back into that potential. This was the subject of thought on the return leg—down-hill coasting—of one of my regular winter cycling perambulations yesterday. It started with the somewhat banal idea that chaotic flows are an efficient way to dissipate (excess) energy in a system. The simple availability of excess energy may well be a (the?) primary source for the need to dissipate it. [This idea may be connected to the rise of complexity in a social system where the system finally collapses under the sheer impossibility of management.]

A free-standing red mangrove tree growing in shallow water in the Cape Sable area of Everglades National Park, Florida. February 2007.
A free-standing red mangrove tree growing in shallow water in the Cape Sable area of Everglades National Park, Florida. February 2007. Photo credit: Andrew Tappert. CC 3.0.

Imagine a mangrove swamp on an exposed intertidal coastline. Along with the dense canopy of branches and beefy leaves, note the prop root structure of the red mangrove: many small root protrusions arcing out from the trunk and through the shallow standing water into the sandy sediment. When a storm—as an expression of a self-organizing high-energy system—arrives with large scale movements of water and wind, the structure of a mangrove swamp, with its profusion of interruptions to the massive laminar flow of the storm, causes a direct depletion of the storm’s immense energy. The opposite of this dissipation is a result of human engineering—paving over of the coastline, removing trees and other natural obstructions. The storm’s energy is unimpeded, unquenched, and roars inland with its high-velocity laminar flow intact.

The mangrove barrier island works in the same way as other energy barriers, absorbing the energy through chaotic diffusion. Another example: ever stood by a chicken-wire fence in the wind? You can hear the susseration of complex and chaotic vortices caused by the thin wires interrupting the smooth flow of the wind. Same with the wind in the leaves of a tree. In both cases, a certain fraction of the wind’s energy is converted to sonic (and other) energies.

Imagine a powerful and malevolent energy coursing through the social system. This force gains strength whenever individuals fail to filter it through their own idiosyncratic interpretations, thoughts, and personal perspective. Like water rushing unimpeded through the concrete channels of the LA River, societal currents flow fastest when contained within a uniform course. In contrast, our idiosyncratic thoughts and actions—the very essence of genuine personal freedom—create natural barriers against the dangerous momentum of authoritarianism, personality cults, and the monolithic belief systems that so often emerge in human societies. Our individual spin on ideas doesn’t just express our uniqueness; it creates essential chaotic friction against the otherwise unchecked flow of collective ‘laminar’ thought.

The LA River water course, where a lack of obstruction causes a violent high-velocity flow during storms. Any parallel to current political events is illusory.
The LA River water course, where a lack of obstruction causes a violent high-velocity flow during storms. Any parallel to current political events is illusory.
America Alone. That really sums up America’s current foreign policy. Trump is remolding the United States in his own image—bigoted, confrontational, erratic, reactionary, greedy, belligerent, vindictive, petty, friendless, authoritarian—and he won’t be content until the US is as lonely and isolated as he is.

Kottke, Jason, America Alone.‬

field work

field work, bi-annual trip to the landfill, Eckert, Colorado, March ©2025 hopkins/neoscenes.
field work, bi-annual trip to the landfill, Eckert, Colorado, March ©2025 hopkins/neoscenes.

Much as I dislike putting stuff into a landfill, can’t avoid it sometimes. Better to recycle, re-use, down-cycle, etc. But when faced with liquidating the house and property, there are some things that end up extraneous to any possible usage. Thus a trip to the somewhat apocalyptic scenario that is the local landfill. It’s set in “The Adobes”, dramatic Mancos Shale (Prairie Canyon Member, Upper Cretaceous) badlands on the southern flank of Grand Mesa.

It is quite depressing to see what isn’t being recycled … all kinds of metal, glass, wood. A picker could make a fortune with a truck, just taking scrap metal to Recla (“We put the “S” in (s)crap!” down in Montrose). I snagged a few small aluminum bits that I will add to my next—and hopefully last—recycling run from the property. But the heavy machinery rigs are running around crushing, compacting, and smoothing the detritus, so, it’s not particularly safe trying to retrieve anything.

field work, bi-annual trip to the landfill, Eckert, Colorado, May ©2022 hopkins/neoscenes.
field work, bi-annual trip to the landfill, Eckert, Colorado, May ©2022 hopkins/neoscenes.

Case Study: Denver – 9 August 1967

Major magnitude 5.3 earthquake shock in Denver

On 9 August 1967, Denver experienced an earthquake that caught the city’s residents by surprise. The tremor, which registered 5.3 on the Richter scale, was particularly notable as it occurred in a region not typically associated with significant seismic activity. What made this earthquake even more remarkable was its eventual connection to human activity—specifically, the disposal of wastewater at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal, a chemical weapons manufacturing facility northeast of the city. This event would later become a classic case study in induced seismicity, where human actions trigger earthquakes, and it helped establish important precedents for understanding the relationship between fluid injection into the ground and subsequent seismic events.

One of the strongest and most economically damaging earthquakes to affect the Denver area in the 1960s occurred on August 9, 1967 around 6:30 AM, awakening and frightening thousands of people. This magnitude 5.3 earthquake, centered near Commerce City, caused more than eight million dollars (2022 dollars) in damage in Denver and the northern suburbs.

Felt reports and intensity ratings were described by von Hake and Cloud (1984). Intensity VII damage was reported in Northglenn, where plate glass windows broke, many walls, ceilings, foundations, and concrete floors cracked, and several businesses sustained damage due to fallen merchandise. One liquor store had estimated damage at USD $90,000 to $175,000 (2022 dollars).

Intensity VI damage was reported in 28 locations, many of which suffered considerable cracked plaster and mortar, broken windows, damaged foundations and chimneys, and damage to household goods. The earthquake was felt as far as Sterling to the northeast and Pueblo, Colorado to the south, as well as north to Laramie, Wyoming.

Based on the isoseismal map, the estimated felt area was about 20,000 mi2 (50,000 km2). Von Hake and Cloud (1984) proposed a size of 15,000 mi2 (39,000 km2), while Hadsell (1968) indicated it was felt over 45,000 mi2 (117,000 km2). Docekal (1970) reported a felt area of 20,000 mi2 (52,000 km2). A magnitude of Mb 5.3 was reported for this earthquake by von Hake and Cloud (1969). Nuttli and others (1979) calculated an Mb of 4.9 and ms of 4.4. Herrmann and others (1981) suggested a focal depth of 1.9 mi (3 km) for this event. The overall felt area is prominently elongated in directions parallel and perpendicular to the (north-south oriented Front Range) mountain front. The intensity V and VI contours are also oriented in an elongate pattern perpendicular to the mountain front.

Aerial view of the Rocky Mountain Arsenal, south plant, 1970. Photo credit: US Library of Congress.
Aerial view of the Rocky Mountain Arsenal, south plant, 1970. Photo credit: US Library of Congress.

This substantial earthquake, the largest of a long series, is believed to have been triggered by the deep injection of chemically-charged wastewater into a borehole drilled to a depth of 12,045 ft (3671 m) at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal in 1961. It was followed by an earthquake of magnitude 5.2 on November 27, 1967. In total, between 1962 and 1967 the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS) recorded over 1,500 earthquakes in the area. The Arsenal was a large chemical weapons-manufacturing facility run by the U.S. Army in Commerce City. Wastewater injection at the site stopped in 1966 and the entire facility closed in 1992. Much of the area is now a national wildlife refuge.


Citations NOTE: The ON-002 Earthquake Reference Collection which includes most of the following references, and 700 more—is available to researchers—see instructions on that page to access the collection.

Bardwell, George E. “Some Statistical Features of the Relationship between Rocky Mountain Arsenal Waste Disposal and Frequency of Earthquakes.” The Mountain Geologist 3, no. 1 (1966): 37–42.
more “Case Study: Denver – 9 August 1967”

house for sale

Open season! If you are looking for a retreat from the busy world, one with fertile soil, water rights, and high agricultural potential, next to some of the best Nordic skiing in the US, silent nights with dark starry skies, bright days with a sky to watch, read on. There’s plenty of wildlife: every sort of raptor, ravens, Colorado bluebirds, jays, magpies, flickers, marmots, foxes, deer, and ground squirrels, along with occasional coyotes, mountain lions, elk, and bears (haven’t personally seen these latter two on my property per se, but they are around!). The property is at 6500 ft (2000 m) on the southern flank of Grand Mesa with fine spacious views of the Uncompaghre Uplift, the Mesa, and the San Juan Mountains to the south. I’ve got decent neighbors as well.

the property, Cedaredge, Colorado, June ©2024 hopkins/neoscenes.
the property, Cedaredge, Colorado, June ©2024 hopkins/neoscenes.

I’ve put in a lot of sweat equity improving both the entire property and the house: removing tons (literally) of detritus from prior residents, caring for the trees and other vegetation, re-doing the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen (with its ever-changing view from the sink!); upgrading parts of the roofing; re-doing the deck; and the whole house is scheduled to be painted next week. Also, because the property is largely open, it is insurable (unlike many rural properties in the state)! This is becoming a serious issue because of climate change and risk of natural disasters! The property is essentially not at risk of flooding, landslide, rockfall, earthquake, or fire.

Much of the process has followed the principle of sustainable DWAM (doing with available materials), and with the idea of sustainably re-wilding the property.

– 13.4 acres (5.4 hectares) 18145 Surface Creek Road, Cedaredge.

– 2 bedroom, 1 bath; 1362 sq ft; 300 sq ft finished root cellar w/ water and electricity; 600 sq ft workshop/outbuilding; 2 additional outbuilding/stable areas; metal roofing throughout; some fencing supplies available;

– several producing fruit trees: apricot, apple, cherry plum.

The best apricot tree on the property, July ©2022 hopkins/neoscenes.
The best apricot tree on the property, July ©2022 hopkins/neoscenes.

– Electricity (DMEA) to house and garage (220v) with a 30 amp RV hook-up.

– Upper Surface Creek Water Users Association (USCDWUA) provides domestic water from their treatment plant about five miles upstream

– Agricultural water shares in Leon Lake and Marcot Park Ditch and Reservoir Companies.

– Fiber-optic internet to the house (up to 8gb available) via Elevate.

– Eligible as an Agricultural Property.

USDA loan eligibility.

Cedaredge is a small town about two miles away. It’s got a decent grocery store, laundromat, library, dispensary, thrift stores, doctor/dentist offices, a handful of restaurants, excellent acupuncture/CTM center, the Grand Mesa Arts Center, elementary-through-high schools, and a friendly Ace hardware store. There are abundant fruit, vegetable, wine and other organic sources locally, and if you are a carnivore, there’s plenty of game.

– Delta (17 mi); Paonia (32 mi); Montrose (40 mi); Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park (40 mi); Grand Junction (50 mi); Telluride (100 mi); Moab UT (150 mi); Denver (250 mi).

Aspen (Populus tremuloides), Cole Reservoir #5, Grand Mesa, Colorado, September ©2024 hopkins/neoscenes.
Aspen (Populus tremuloides), Cole Reservoir #5, Grand Mesa, Colorado, September ©2024 hopkins/neoscenes.

– if escape from this pleasant reverie is necessary, both Montrose and Grand Junction have airports with daily direct flights to DFW, Salt Lake, Denver, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Las Vegas, and other points.

— if you know anyone who would be interested, let me know, I’m prepared for sale-by-owner. Price $400,000. The house will be listed in a few weeks at $459,000, I will not be signing with a RE agent until then.

the property, Cedaredge, Colorado, March ©2024 hopkins/neoscenes.
the property, Cedaredge, Colorado, March ©2024 hopkins/neoscenes.

going to the mat

It’s difficult to write these days. Internal monologues are focused on figuring out how to pack up life asap. It’s a bit strange to say that the past four-plus years is the longest I’ve lived in one place continuously since leaving my parents home at 17 y.o. And further, it’s one of the few periods of time that I have had *all* my belongings in one place and (mostly) out of boxes. The majority of my adult life, my stuff has been in a storage unit somewhere—New Jersey, Prescott, Golden, Boulder—or in someone’s garage or so. Uff. Packing the entire archive back up seems absurd as it was hardly accessed in the time it was out of boxes. A useless pile of detritus. Why, why, why subject myself to the ignominy and energy-waste of maintaining something that I’m the only one who has an interest in it?

Now Reading: Absorbing the epic six-volume autobiography, Min Kamp, from Norwegian, Karl Ove Knausgård. At Zander’s recommendation, and then, once I started and realized that I actually was in the same locations at the same times—Bergen, Trondheim, Stavanger, Kristiansand, Oslo—as Karl Ove back when I was spending a fair amount of time in Norway in the late 1990s and early 2000s. A compelling read.

Knausgård, Karl Ove. My Struggle: Book Two: A Man in Love. Translated by Don Bartlett. 1st Archipelago books edition. Vol. 2. 6 vols. Brooklyn, NY: Archipelago Books, 573.

I recently checked in with Julia, my former CGS intern. She’s a Mines (hydrogeology) graduate, who has, wonderfully, found a shared pathway to follow her bliss. She and her boyfriend, Torin, also a Mines alumni, have taken their connection with yoga to a higher level, gaining the necessary credentials for teaching and are planning to go international with that sooner than later. They have also started a YouTube channel—Wellbeing Cafe—already with a huge number of yoga routines and a variety of other material. Very cool to see this transition.

Somewhat disturbing to me, though, is that part of this personal evolution is almost forced to take place within the sphere of social media, especially YouTube, given the oligarchic control that it exerts on any and all users. That and the insertion of ads that cannot be cancelled or avoided—all of them utterly useless and annoying—until the channel receives a minimum number of subscribers (1,000). At that point the channel owners can at least select when the ad is played. Otherwise, one will show up in the middle of a yoga sequence or more often. I was stuck with one that played for ten minutes. Finding an independent pathway to socio-economic viability is challenging for their generation. They could have gone full-engineering and been working in a (potentially) stifling ‘regular’ job with deluxe cash flows. But they are cognizant of the lives of some of their cohort who are extremely unhappy (and unhealthy!), coasting along on that trajectory. Given the wider-scale complexity of what is ‘going on’ in late-stage Empire, best to work at basic life-skills like body-health, psycho-spiritual development, consumption habits, community-building, and look to develop trajectories that are beyond the reach of Empire (if that is possible in this new-ish multi-lateral oligarch-and-authoritarian-driven global power struggle).

Later, I juxtapose those assessments with the swirl of jagged thoughts and impressions that are filling my consciousness: monkey-brain on amphetamines, faugh. Complexity increasing, logarithmic, with age (of Self and Empire), while neuronal synapses are dulled, blank. Is this what life *is*, or what it becomes when attention is shredded by too much stuff? Packing boxes, why hold so tightly to this stuff when it will likely sit in those boxes for a long time. Possibly for the existing life-time! Having is a form of suffocation, burdened by excretions of other lives, but mostly my own. Giving is an exhalation, from the deep belly, giving inspiration to the cosmos.

Venus is high and brilliant in the evening, Saturn much less so in the sunset’s glare, Jupiter, Mars high with the waxing, near full Luna, invisible-but-present Uranus. I regularly take a late night stroll around the property before bed, no matter how cold. Waking the deer snoozing in the openness, their greenish-yellow headLight eyes blazing in my headlamp. First encounter, the eye pairs rise vertically, then, after staring, frozen, as the LED supernova waxes, they bolt to the tree line or across the street to a neighbor’s yard. Occasionally, a tinier pair of eyes, one of several feral cats that are encountered, or, rarely, a fox or skunk. So far no encounters with the large carnivores that do frequent the area: bears and mountain lions. Much of the walk is without the headlamp on, and aside from the always-on brightest-Light-within-several-miles that my neighbor installed a year ago, it’s dark with the brilliant streak of the Milky Way in all its offset-rotational glory.

A 30-minute call with George, I feel rusty, awkward and jumbled. He and I never developed an audio tele-presence connection, given the logistics and expense back when. Our connection was forged across some immersive instances of intense f-2-f interaction. After those formative encounters at Mines and in Santa Monica in the early 1980s, and aside from one more f-2-f in 1989, it’s always been text. Hand-written or typed letters through the post, then email, and these days, texting. I wonder if we will ever cross physical paths again in this incarnation. Doubtful, especially when I remove myself from this nation, and head for another, though there are no guarantees of anything anywhere anymore.

DMNS Meteorite Collection

Colleagues at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, led by Dr. James Hagadorn, the Curator of Geology at the museum, released a fine 36-page publication The Meteorite Collection of the Denver Museum of Nature & Science. It contains a fascinating history of the collection with back stories on some of the many specimens, along with a reference list and a full catalog of the collection. It’s available as a free pdf download, but the paper copy is well worth the $3.16 price-point (how do they manage to sell it for so little??). It’s the next best thing to a visit to the DMNS … when in Denver!

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Hagadorn, James W., Emerald J. Spindler, Ada K. Bowles, and Nicole M. Neu-Yagle. Denver Museum of Nature and Science Report 17: The Meteorite Collection. Vol. December 11, 2019. Denver Museum of Nature and Science Report SR-17. Denver, CO: The Denver Museum of Nature and Science, 2019.

Following is a selection of meteorite specimens in the Denver Museum of Nature and Science collection:

Broken piece of Cañon City meteorite (DMNH EGT.165), fell through the roof of a garage in Cañon City, Colorado, 1973. Exhibits black fusion crust surrounding an interior dominated by lighter-colored minerals. Photo credit: R. Wicker for the Denver Museum of Nature and Science.
Broken piece of Cañon City meteorite (DMNH EGT.165), fell through the roof of a garage in Cañon City, Colorado, 1973. Exhibits black fusion crust surrounding an interior dominated by lighter-colored minerals. Photo credit: R. Wicker for the Denver Museum of Nature and Science.

more “DMNS Meteorite Collection”

QoD

In the stead of the tedious roll-calling in my more formal university classes, I started to implement a Question of the Day process. At the beginning of the semester, at the start of each session, one student was asked come up with a question and pose it on the QoD form which then circulated around the room during the session, to be filled out as decided by each individual. I placed no restrictions on content, and one didn’t have to answer at all, but at least had to note presence.

This turned out to be a marvelous way to tap into individual/personal energies that students would typically not ‘reveal’ in a classroom setting. As the paper circulated, accumulating answers, it would travel slower and slower as students read prior answers and came up with their own. The process sparked both basic human connection as well as significant discussion on occasion, and on others, amusement. After a couple weeks of me assigning the Questioner, there were usually volunteers at the beginning of each session who had come up with something to query their peers with. Also interesting was the sheer variety of handwriting samples and forms of expression.

Question of the Day, Atlas2000, 25 April 2013, CU Boulder, Colorado.
Question of the Day, Atlas2000, 25 April 2013, CU Boulder, Colorado.

clouds and meaninglessness

Siri's butikk, Bergen, Norway, September ©1993 hopkins/neoscenes.
Siri’s butikk, Bergen, Norway, September ©1993 hopkins/neoscenes.

Siri's butikk, Bergen, Norway, September ©1993 hopkins/neoscenes.
Siri’s butikk, Bergen, Norway, September ©1993 hopkins/neoscenes.

I set off with a sigh. Above me the entire sky had opened. What a few hours earlier had been plain, dense cloud cover now took on landscape-like formations, a chasm with long flat stretches, steep walls, and sudden pinnacles, in some places white and substantial like snow, in others gray and as hard as rock, while the huge surfaces illuminated by the sunset did not shine or gleam or have a reddish glow, as they could, rather they seemed as if they had been dipped in some liquid. They hung over the town, muted red, dark-pink, surrounded by every conceivable nuance of gray. The setting was wild and beautiful. Actually everyone should be in the streets, I thought, cars should be stopping, doors should be opened and drivers and passengers emerging with heads raised and eyes sparkling with curiosity and a craving for beauty, for what was it that was going on above our heads?

However, a few glances at most were cast upward, perhaps followed by isolated comments about how beautiful the evening was, for sights like this were not exceptional, on the contrary, hardly a day passed without the sky being filled with fantastic cloud formations, each and every one illuminated in unique, never-to-be-repeated ways, and since what you see every day is what you never see, we lived our lives under the constantly changing sky without sparing it a glance or a thought. And why should we? If the various formations had had some meaning, if, for example, there had been concealed signs and messages for us which it was important we decode correctly, unceasing attention to what was happening would have been inescapable and understandable. But this was not the case of course, the various cloud shapes and hues meant nothing, what they looked like at any given juncture was based on chance, so if there was anything the clouds suggested it was meaninglessness in its purest form.

Knausgård, Karl Ove. My Struggle. Translated by Don Bartlett. 1st Archipelago books edition. Vol. 1. 6 vols. Brooklyn, NY: Archipelago Books, 2012.

word, Bergen, Norway, September©1993 hopkins/neoscenes.
word, Bergen, Norway, September©1993 hopkins/neoscenes.

The photos were made around the same time Karl Ove was living in Bergen: I was teaching at KHiB (now the Faculty of Fine Art, Music and Design, University of Bergen). Probably no need to explain the resonance of this particular passage to other entries on this blog.

The Long Night of Radio Art

At the vilma offices thanks to Gediminas and Nomeda — for hosting the stream I’m sending to Steve of art@radio in Baltimore who has an elaborate studio set-up for the live streaming he’ll be doing from there to The Long Night of Radio Art that is part of the Reinventing Radio project of KunstRadio. the whole project will be broadcast on FM, shortwave, a special 5.1 digital satellite transmission, and online. (Taking a breath). Yeah, live online. Meet August on the IRC channel broadcasting from Santa Barbara.

The Long Night of Radio Art, online and Linz, Austria, September ©2004 hopkins/neoscenes.
The Long Night of Radio Art, online and Linz, Austria, September ©2004 hopkins/neoscenes.

The Long Night of Radio Art, online and Linz, Austria, September ©2004 hopkins/neoscenes.
The Long Night of Radio Art, online and Linz, Austria, September ©2004 hopkins/neoscenes.

Baltimore, USA :: jamming radiophonic space :: 19:30 – 06:00 Eastern Standard Time

“jamming radiophonic space,” modulates the interplay of radio, Internet, wireless transmission, an private space.

This experientially diverse and geographically scattered group will contribute to “jamming radiophonic space” through decentralized, networked, and collaborative strategies of production and distribution. Streaming feeds from microphones places in and around artists’ workspaces will be gathered along with ambient sound called in via wireless and landline phones; requests have already gone out over electronic list-serves for individuals to call in and point their live phones for 10 or 15 minutes towards sounds emblematic of their time and place.

These sonic interruptions will then be mixed and processed into a stream of “hot media” by artists present in the Baltimore studio space using baby monitors, short-wave radios, software, and other improvised sound tools. The stream will then be made available world-wide to streaming clients via wired and wireless data connections.

Artists:

Chris Basile, Goeff Bell, Steve Bradley, Phaye Poliakoff-Chen, Chad Eby, John Hopkins (Vilnius, LT), Brendan Howell, John Hudak, Jacob Kirkegaard, Tim Nohe, Joe Reinsel, Jodi Rose, Bill Shewbridge, Nicole Shiflet, John Sturgeon, and others …

The Long Night of Radio Art, online and Linz, Austria, September ©2004 hopkins/neoscenes.
The Long Night of Radio Art, online and Linz, Austria, September ©2004 hopkins/neoscenes.

field work

looking south to parts of the Blanca Massif from the east side of Mt. Herard, Great Sand Dunes National Preserve, Colorado, September ©2018 hopkins/neoscenes.
looking south to parts of the Blanca Massif from the east side of Mt. Herard, Great Sand Dunes National Preserve, Colorado, September ©2018 hopkins/neoscenes.

from Story Club

[ED: Edited to clarify sense and meaning. It will likely be edited after posting as well.]

George, you know me as something of a cynic, and while I have always admired you and your trajectory, and what you have accomplished over the past 45 years, I’m afraid that I disagree with the idea that culture (cultural production) can save our society from what is, perhaps, an inevitable trajectory. Having just finished reading

Klemperer, Victor. To the Bitter End: The Diaries of Victor Klemperer, 1942–1945. 1st ed. Vol. 2. 3 vols. New York, NY: Random House, 1999.

and

Klemperer, Victor, and Martin Brady. The Language of the Third Reich: LTI Lingua Tertii Imperii: A Philologist’s Notebook. Bloomsbury Revelations edition. New York, NY: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013.

I was reminded how culture is often (always?) overtaken (taken over?) and becomes an extension of the dominating state (or power in control of the state). While throughout the Third Reich, there were countless small acts of kindness in the face of extreme social oppression and control, this did not stop the juggernaut of singular human pathology turning the overall society into a violent (Nazi) killing machine. And along with the killing, that machine simply subsumed cultural production. Remember book-banning-then-burning? Oh, wait, no need to remember, I can read about the banning here, now!

The foundation of the Amurikan system since WWII is predicated on an often-hidden-but-often-expressed element of violence that has superseded any prior Empires by orders of magnitude. We are of that system, and fully immersed within it. Think of both our long-ago stints in service of the “Imperialist Vanguard”!

I do truly hope that your optimism is not misplaced as we seem to slide into a vortex quite similar to the many vortices experienced by humans in the past and/or in other places. I often have the feeling that so many people in the contemporary developed world are so fully immersed in the consumption of mediated constructs of the world that unmediated, meat-space, direct apprehension of the world has been lost or at least stripped of its value. This would include direct face-to-face engagement with proximal Life (not in films, not online, not in books, but in direct expression and embodied impression). This is a fundamental of community that has been severely drained of vitality … by, for example, ‘social media’. Vitality going down the drain, along with the fundamental structures of a sustainable society.

In a way, the power of Klemperer’s diaries, as written/mediated, contradict everything I have expressed here and do support your core idea, as they were ‘simply’ his writings—detailed daily reflections on events and feelings in his more immediate surrounds—that, through his perseverance, made it, bound, to my bedside table. Thence, in hand, giving rise to change within my embodied system. However, the time I spent reading them, well, would it have been better spent helping a neighbor (as I have been helped on occasion during my recent rural existence)? We cannot have anything approaching a democracy without community, and neither can we have a just or truly diverse society without the repeated, crucial encounter with the Other: open, embodied, hypostatic, indeterminate, unscripted, and imbued with the active presence of change. (Again, I contradict, yes, writing can do this, any mediated fragment of culture can do this, but …)

Hope this jangling screed doesn’t come across badly. Maybe I should have kept it in our private convos, such as they are! You know my respect for you. So it goes.

to Story Club, and Prof. Saunders, December 2024.

Perhaps this points to the idea that there are only small acts of kindness. That there are, in perceived reality, no societal, cultural acts of kindness. That tribal is tribal, clan is clan, and the will to survive in that exclusive social configuration is primal and primary. Altruism, while potentially able to bridge particular rival societal strictures in particular instances, is not able to change wider societal trajectories. This may be the source of liberal failure: imagining, falsely, that it is possible to do what is not possible, taming animal nature. Perhaps this impulse is simply another expression of human hubris. It also may explain the sudden withdrawal of (many) liberals from the scene in the moment, in the face of that wider swell (tsunami!) of societal grievance led by … a singular pathological will-to-survive. This retreat may have a texture of localized kindness, wonderful! But cataclysm at the more global scale may be inevitable. Indeed, at the psycho-spiritual scale maybe this is what Life is: the challenge to find a(n internal) energy source for the expression of kindness in the cataclysm. Not sure I personally have the capacity for this anymore, but that is another issue.