Growth, you say?

Downtown Newnan, GA. (If you knew where to look, you could squint and see my house.)

 

I live in my hometown of Newnan, GA, in Coweta County. (Yes, that Coweta County.) In fact, I live two blocks from the historic Court Square in a beautiful historic neighborhood filled with lovely homes and lovely neighbors. It’s a great place to live, with vibrant social and cultural communities.  Like most cities in the past, it was laid out in a grid that rapidly dissolved at the edges. Hold that thought.

The explosive growth of Newnan and Coweta County has become a topic of concern, mostly because of the increased traffic. It can get gnarly out there multiple times a day, so I thought I would provide some hippie-woo perspective on the problem and at least one solution, even it’s not an easy one.

First of all, City of Newnan, if that is your real name even, I think y’all should have a retreat and read through A Pattern Language together. You might even consider someone who is familiar with the concepts in that tome to help you figure out What It All Means and how it might help you in keeping our fair city a fabulous place to live.

tl;dr: A Pattern Language is structured through 253 “patterns” that the authors derived from their examination of land, cities, streets, homes, public spaces, all the way down to individual rooms, that seemed to work for the people who live there, all around the world. As it says in the Wikipedia article linked above, “Patterns describe a problem and then offer a solution. In doing so the authors intend to give ordinary people, not only professionals, a way to work with their neighbors to improve a town or neighborhood, design a house for themselves, or work with colleagues to design an office, workshop, or public building such as a school.” (The “walkable city” movement springs from the concepts in this book.)

What does this have to do with traffic congestion in Newnan, GA? A lot.

A couple of decades ago I suggested to the city manager at the time — based on my experiences with Pattern Language — that we should build a main road between and parallel to two existing main roads, Bullsboro Drive/Hwy 34 and Lower Fayetteville Rd, as well as connecting roads. In other words, lay out another grid.

Eventually, the light went on in someone’s brain, and we now have the Macintosh Parkway extending from downtown out to City of Hope, our regional cancer treatment center.

You know what we don’t have? Any new cross roads connecting the parkway directly to the other two main arteries. (There is sort of one there in the lower left, but it’s all twisty roads, not a straight grid. In fact, I drive both Macintosh Parkway and Lower Fayetteville Road multiple times a week, and I was completely unaware of that cross road until now.

You know what we do have? Multiple (and an increasing number of) subdivisions with at most two exits onto the main artery.

And here’s what brought this blog post into being: This morning I needed to run a couple of items to the dry cleaner, which is a four-minute drive from my house.

Usually.

Today, I decided that rather than drive to the end of my street and have to deal with turning right onto a main artery and then facing an immediate left turn — I was in a mood — I would simply drive over to one of the two main downtown streets , crossing over Jackson Street over to Jefferson Street and just zip up past the Dairy Queen, etc., a route didn’t require me to deal with oncoming traffic.

However, when I made the first right turn to head over to Jefferson, there was a cop car, blue lights going, blocking Jackson St. Hm, I thought, no problem. I made a right turn, then a left, but there was another cop car blocking Jackson St.

Of course: Today was the Juneteenth parade, and they were blocking cross traffic from the parade route.

Again, not a problem. I simply went back to my neighborhood and went through the grid and circled back to the cleaners. And to get home, I circled back in an even bigger loop, mostly because I had nothing pressing waiting on me at home and I wanted to see what my childhood neighborhood looked like these days. (Nearly 50 years after I moved out of my parents’ house, the trees are gorgeously bigger.)

Now imagine having a parade on Lower Fayetteville Road. How many subdivisions would have to stay put at home until the parade was over and Lower Fayetteville was clear before they could run an errand/go to the doctor/etc.? Some have twisty-turny paths they could take, but some don’t even connect through to the next subdivision for an escape route.

And now you understand why traffic can get so bad on those three main arteries: There are no capillaries connecting them. All those cars must pour on to those three main arteries — and onto the main arteries that do cross those three — whereas unless my street is shut down — I’m looking at you, PorchFest, Halloween, etc — I can get almost anywhere in town multiple ways.

Is this pattern an easy solution to our traffic issues? No, but the usual practice of adding lanes to existing arteries is not a long-term solution. There’s a reason our bodies need capillaries, and our cities have that same need for the exact same reason.

You can read/download a copy of A Pattern Language here.

Fun in spam comments

My website is hosted out in California by prxy.com, owned by an old AOL friend (and actual Apple designer back in the day). His spam filter is excellent, sending a daily report of what it’s trapped. I scan it to make sure there’s nothing I should have received, and then hit the “Delete All” button.

However, there are times when the spam header is so gonzo that I have to go look to see what the actual email says. (The filter allows you to peek at the email contents without actually opening a dangerous email.)

Mostly, though, I just laugh at the preposterousness of the scams they’re trying to pull. Almost all of them are some variety of Costco is giving you a $100 gift card, stuff like that, and there is nothing legitimate looking about them.

However, as a public service, let me give you a pro tip. If you get an email that looks legitimate, say from your bank or Social Security or Costco, the first thing you do is check under the hood:

  1. Click and hold on the From: field and see if the domain it’s coming from is actually your bank, etc.
    1. This info is sometimes right there in the Reply-To: field.
  2. If it’s not, then shift-ctrl-J (or your email/computer’s shortcut for Send to Junk is, is your friend.

As an example, allow me to share today’s haul.

First, a few examples of the clickbait headers, followed by the actual email each is from:

  • A $100,000 credit is now on your Netflix account, netflix [netflix@streamingeurope.homes]
  • Strange Black Elixir increases d*ck [sic] size by 3.6 inches, Men’s Health [support@livlfe.shop] (This one seemed oddly specific…)
  • That gaunt, haggard look…, Appearance Warning [help@garagewarrior.com]

You get the idea. Now here are the actual email addresses for the rest of today’s haul:

  • representativesbattery.lat
  • centurysteam.garden
  • understandprison.living
  • publicationsdangerous.living
  • everywherebid.living
  • holylegacy.blog
  • meatfamoous.garden
  • fbicard.garden
  • grore-images.com
  • gamercum. com
  • angular-engenharia. com.br
  • manuallift.living
  • whomnick.homes
  • chinesemusic.skin
  • surpriseltd.homes
  • emmaopinions.garden
  • jontglide.shop
  • underrapidly.property
  • startedlandscape.property
  • cabinetdevice.living
  • votedburied.homes
  • frauenvernaschen. com
  • shoppingtreated.garden
  • penwin.property
  • franckprovot. com
  • alonginvestements.property
  • cableplan.fit
  • alexanderrealized.garden
  • findingcares.lat

I mean to say, wot? I’m aware that the domains have multiplied beyond .com/.edu/.org/.gov, but most of those seem not credible in the least, not to mention the account names. In a quick check of two or three of them, none connected to a website, so you might wonder how they expect to scam you.

The answer is that each email gives you a simple way to claim your $100,000 credit from Netflix (??) — they give you a button to click.

And if you uncover the link in that button: http://www.claimxngoing.living/me/dl3nyxovwzn. There is no telling what that links to, but I suspect it installs malware on your computer.  (I have modified the text so that it’s not a link to anything.)

Anyway, I hope this entertained you as much as it did me, and I hope it was at least a little informative. Protect yourself!

—————

I recently tried a link to a domain that just seemed odd, but with a great name: look.feel.be — there was nothing there, so I suppose it’s available for your business or personal use. What would you put there? Feel free to speculate in comments.

The invasion of Newnan, GA, August 2025

You may imagine our astonishment when we awoke this morning, August 15, to find this announcement on Facebook:

WTF, as the majority of the comments ran. We were being told that we were to be the hosts for a military training operation tomorrow.

Reaction was swift and mostly negative. There were some MAGAts who apparently are thrilled that our military might be training to invade American cities to protect us from the usual suspects — immigrants, trans people, and drag queens — despite fact that our military is forbidden to do shit like this.

Beyond that, the actual language of the press release is worrisome, especially in these days of rampant Nazification. Let’s take a look, shall we?

1. Surprise! That’s tomorrow! That’s not going to raise eyebrows or panic people, not in the least HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT EVEN?

2. We all know exactly what a “United States Army Special Operations Command” is, right? Special Ops… that’s like the people who raided bin Laden? And they’re going to train here because… Hold that thought.

3. Yep, that’s what it says: “in and around” Newnan. Hold that thought.

4. “Rotary wing” operations. Could they possibly mean “helicopters”?

5. And what exactly are “operations”? I have to presume weapons will be fired. Tough, manly “warfighters” running through our neighborhood? Swarming the Court House? Getting lunch at Redneck Gourmet? Also, “groundbased, closequarter” needs those hyphens and that comma. Your English teacher is ashamed of you.

6. “Battle training.” Ah. In and around Newnan. I’m beginning to feel as if I should be concerned, especially if it’s going to be “close-quarter.” [See: 5.]

7. “Simulates environments troops may encounter while deployed” — to small American towns, you mean?

8. “for more information”…

Let’s start there. I clicked through to the city website, where I found exactly this DOD press release along with a bit more information. But nothing that explains one bit of this.

Okay, this whole thing, taken merely as a PR announcement, is a disaster. Let’s do a deep dive.

First some caveats: I am assuming that the City of Newnan was told that they were in no way to alter the wording of this release. I can assume this because a concerned citizen — whose name I am not going to publish, but THANK YOU! — made it her business to call the mayor and get some actual facts, the first of which was that “operations” weren’t going to be in Newnan, but on a piece of property that the land owner offered to the DOD for “operations.” (Hold that thought.)

Also, all of you who worship our military, please note that I don’t. Like the founding fathers, I have a deep distrust of the military. They were right, and so am I. So bugger right off with your weepy-ass SUPPORT THE TROOPS KENNETH bull.

So. What a pile of ill-begotten propaganda! The whole thing is designed to obfuscate, confuse, conceal, and intimidate. Note the jargon like “rotary wing” — why not say “helicopters” and/or “drones”? Why not indeed? Because, citizen, it is not necessary for you to understand what they are up to. In fact, they’d rather you not. One of the additional bit of info on the city website was more DOD propaganda, including the phrase “Robust safety precautions are currently in place to protect both the participants and the City residents, along with significant planning considerations to minimize the impact to the community.” Protect the participants? Bubba, you signed up to go to war — shouldn’t you be prepared to sustain injuries?

And what makes our fearless “warfighters” so concerned about their safety? Is there something in the air that makes them think that their presence in these “operations” might not be welcomed by the community and that they might need “robust” protections?

The additional information goes on to say “No public viewing opportunities will be available throughout the exercise, as the participants will maintain the highest level of security.” Translated into English, they’re telling us that you will not be protesting this event and that if you do… well, you’ve seen the ICE/DHS/National Guard videos, right? Pure intimidation.

I get it. You don’t really want civilians in the way when you’re training your teenagers to go kill people, you really don’t. They have a tendency to be a bit on edge, don’t they? And you can’t vouch for what an edgy teen with a gun might do if any part of real life intrudes into that bubble you’ve created around him. What if it suddenly dawns on him that he’s being trained to obey unlawful orders? NOT THAT THAT WILL EVER HAPPEN IN THE AMERICA KENNETH.

But this announcement? It’s practically a provocation to panic for the citizens of Newnan, for all the reasons I’ve limned above. I mean, how do we know this isn’t a “operation” to arrest enemies of the state for thoughtcrimes against Dear Leader? This communication does nothing to dispel thoughts of conspiracy.

Oh, and the property? Our intrepid citizen activist kept calling until she got the location: the old hospital building and grounds on Hospital Road. And the “land owner”? Piedmont Healthcare. Draft your emails and letters accordingly.

Onward to the Glorious Reich!

::sigh::

I’m reading back through this blog’s 20 years of posts, and just now I came across this post, written in 2008 while I was still trying to write the Symphony in G, back when I was still checking out books to kindergartners during the day and riding herd on Georgia’s gifted and talented teenagers during the summer.

You don’t need to read the post; essentially, I was whinging about Dvorak and never being able to match his inventiveness. Of course, I said, it was his day job. He had all the time he needed to be inventive.

And then I wrote this: I begin to wonder if I would be more productive if I had all day every day to thrash out ideas and discard the less worthy ones.

Oof.

I guess I’ve answered that question.

Not an Easy Question

Well, not an easy question for him.
My email to my congresscritter, Brian Jack:

Whoever had control of the “AUTOPEN” is looking to be a bigger and bigger scandal by the moment. It is a major part of the real crime, THAT THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 2020 WAS RIGGED AND STOLEN! Millions and millions of people knew that, but the Radical Left Democrats waged a campaign on inoculation [sic] and innocence like none that had ever been waged before. THIS IS WHY THE UNSELECT COMMITTEE OF POLITICAL THUGS, WHO WERE GIVEN A FULL AND COMPLETE PARDON BY THE PERSON WHO WIELDED THE NOW ILLEGALLY USED AUTOPEN, DELETED AND DESTROYED ALL EVIDENCE AND INFORMATION FROM THEIR CORRUPT AND VICIOUS WITH HUNT AGAINT ME, AND MANY OTHER PEOPLE, WHOSE LIVES WERE COMPLETELY SHATTERED AND DESTROYED BY THIS HISTORICALLY CRIMINAL EVENT. Remember, it all began with DIRTY COP James Comey, Obama, a hapless and cognitively impaired Sleepy Joe Biden, and my now very famous ACCUSATION that, “THEY SPIED ON MY CAMPAIGN!” Whoever had control of the…

This is who you support and — indeed — worked for. Why?

As usual, your reply will be posted on my blog and on Facebook. Thank you for your attention.

I don’t know about you guys, but I’d fake my own death to avoid answering this for my constituents.

Hey, MAGAts, I sympathize with you

No, really, I get it. The fear and anger with which those of us on the other side are reacting to the rapid, overwhelming Nazification of our country should feel familiar to you — it’s exactly the way you reacted during the Obama years or the Biden years, with panic and anger over the RADICAL LIBERAL TAKEOVER OF OUR GOVERNMENT KENNETH.

I am not mocking you. I get it. Your world was rocked because the Democrats were giving you affordable healthcare, infrastructure funding, alternative energy support, family medical leave, etc, etc, etc. It must have felt as if the wheels were coming off your Cybertruck. No wonder you revolted and ran straight into the arms of the Big Daddy to protect you.

However.

You were afraid of affordable healthcare, etc, because you were told it was SOCIALAMIZM KENNETH. You scorned alternative energy support (even though most of it went to your states) because WINDMILL CANCER KENNETH or DRILL BABY DRILL or something. You screamed with irrational rage at the two Democratic presidents even as they fixed the broken economy left to them by their Republican predecessors, raging about actions which neither man was taking nor was even considering, and not just allowing yourselves to be lied to by Fox News and the Republican Party but lapping it up like mother’s milk without any skepticism at all. (Receipts upon request; I got links, I’m just venting.)

We are afraid of the Gestapo, the crashing of the world economy, the wrecking of the post-WWII alliances, the blatant bribery and corruption, the dismantling of our social safety net, the dismantling of the agencies that keep our food, our water, our cars, our airports safe, the targeting of minorities, and above all, the arrogant incompetence of the Republixanazi Administration.

We are not the same.

The Parable of the Mud

Once a man had a vision as he was meditating. He told his friends:

As you know, my practice is to meditate on the four elements — Fire, Water, Earth, Air — and express my gratitude to the spirit of each for what it has granted me in my life.

Last night, as I meditated, I gave thanks to Air for my breath, my mind, for inspiration. In return, Air gave me inspiration and creative breakthroughs.

I thanked Fire for my will, my blood, my passions. Fire gifted me courage and transformation.

With Water I was grateful for my emotions, my unconscious, even my aging and death. Water gave me love, hope, compassion, and dreams.

To Earth I gave thanks for my body and for the earth’s great riches.

But the spirit of Earth in return mocked me: “You presume to thank us, but your pride in your spirit is misplaced. Soon enough you will die and will be nothing more than mud.”

Mud.

I sat quietly with this thought. I brought to mind the gifts of all four elements, Air, Fire, Water, even Earth — all part of me and the sum of me.

I spoke to Earth. “It is true that I will become mud. But I am not mud now, nor will I become mud until I am Earth again, when I am no longer One of Us.”

Earth was silent.

“And even then, O Earth, I shall be Earth and Air and Water and Fire — I shall be All of Us once again.”

Earth listened.

“And why do you scoff at my mortality, Earth, when you know that soon enough we will all combine again to become a new spirit, a new being, and we will once again be One of Us. You will be One with Us.”

Earth was still silent, but I knew the Earth had blessed me.

“Thank you for this blessing, Earth, for without your harsh truth I might not have found this comfort.”

And his friends marveled.

More Adventures in Hoarding

Having emptied out our storage unit, we are now faced with dealing with the boxes of personal papers that we stuck out-of-sight-out-of-mind for twenty years. (There’s also a bunch of furniture as well, but that is not my concern at the moment.)

You will recall that I came across a box of materials from our 2007 William Blake’s Inn workshops, and I actually took that to a meeting on Friday with potential collaborators to show exactly what I mean by workshopping the world premiere.

There were also two boxes/tubs of empty three-ring binders, and given that we now live in the space science future I’m having a hard time re-homing them. But look at these:

These held the scripts for some of the very first shows I directed in Newnan. (Time’s Wingéd Chariot alert: The first show I directed was Georges Feydeau’s Hotel Paradiso, in the summer of 1975. I will spare you the mental math — that was 50 years ago.) Of the actors involved in these shows, several are still doing theatre, and one ended up on Broadway.

Then there was this:

It was attached to the script for the “Epilogue” of William Blake’s Inn, and I know it had nothing to do with my magnum opus. But I have absolutely no clue what I was working on that I would need this quodlibet of songs — and what’s with the ? on p. 12?

In the storage tub of music that I was surprised to discover in the back of the storage unit, there were all these notebooks:

BACK IN MY DAY, WE HAD TO SCRIBBLE OUR MUSIC ON ACTUAL PAPER AND JUST HOPE IT SOUNDED RIGHT. I actually had a music pen, a fountain pen with a broad nib that allowed me to write noteheads and staves and flags and rests that looked almost like real music.

Eventually, though, I used pencil and paper to scribble ABORTIVE ATTEMPTS before transcribing them into Finale and beating them into shape. Here’s the sketch for “Wise Cow Makes Way, Room, and Believe,” from William Blake’s Inn:

What else was in those notebooks?

IYKYK.

The real treasure trove?

My manuscript copies of William Blake’s Inn. I’ve put them in a portfolio binder, and I seem to be missing “A Rabbit Reveals My Room,” “The Man in the Marmalade Hat Arrives,” “Two Sunflowers Move Into the Yellow Room,” and the above-mentioned “Make Way.” I don’t know whether I ever created an actual manuscript for those pieces; they may be in that tub or in the study somewhere.

Just look at what is still in the tub:

I see at least three never-finished projects there, and there are scraps of ABORTIVE ATTEMPTS littered throughout. My current plan is to take this tub with me on the Lichtenbergian Retreat in a couple of weeks and go through all of them, transcribing bits that are still only on paper and cataloging them all. And then?

I don’t know. Put them back in the tub. Store it in the basement or something. Wait for the biographers to show up.

So far behind…

The past couple of months have been a drag, which you may have suspected after my account of our trip to Germany in December broke off mid-trip. For that I can only say that the wifi in the Motel One chain is weird and unreliable, and it was cold.

Then the holidays, and more cold, and so much crap being sprayed about by whatever fan we as a society have been cursed with that I couldn’t see sinking myself even further into nonaction (and not the good kind) by ranting about it here, plus all kinds of paralysis over on my Lichtenbergian blog due to the impending possibility of a world premiere for William Blake’s Inn, and soon you’re talking about real stagnation here.

So I am now going to raise myself out of my torpor by talking about an amusing kind of failure, a backlog of cocktails.

Some background: I subscribe to several emails from websites like liquor.com and diffordsguide.com which send me recipes nearly every day. I’ll go and look them over, and if I think one might appeal to me, I copy the recipe into a word processing document that is always open on my desktop. When the page is full, I print it out and start experimenting.

That’s the theory. The reality? See this photo?

On the right, my bar book. On the left, twenty-one pages of cocktails that have built up over the past year or so. Either I don’t get around to making them, or I’ve run out of a key ingredient or there’s some syrup or tincture you have to make first… You get the idea.

How bad is it?

On those twenty-one pages there are 189 cocktails.

Of those 189 cocktails, I have approved 26 of them and eliminated 14, i.e., I have tried 40. That means that I have made only 21% of the cocktails that I claimed to be interested in.

I hereby commit to doing better.

The Parable of the Setting Sun

A young person journeyed far, on a pilgrimage to gain wisdom from those who possessed it.

One night, as she walked along the road, marveling at the stars above and the earth around her, she saw many people seated in a meadow, all facing the same direction. All were weeping and beating their chests. Some threw themselves prostrate upon the ground in their grief. Their clamor was heartrending.

She approached one and asked, “Who are you? Why do you weep? What great tragedy has befallen you?”

The man replied, “We are the ones who have seen the day and mourn its passing. We sit facing west, mourning the setting of the sun, our grief overwhelming us.” He paused. “This is our wisdom. It brings us no joy.”

“But…” the young person began, but the man was no longer listening. With a loud cry he rejoined his fellows in their clamor.

She stood silently for a moment, observing their pain, and then walked away, toward the east, where the sun was already rising.