Looking down on the drone on its launch pad, we project a triangle flat to the earth, with reference vertexes: Blue, Red, Yellow. We think of a Green beacon high above (out) or far below (in) vs-a-vs the surface of Planet Earth. At the center of BRYG: orange (O for origin, also).
That’s the horizontal plane (triangle BRY), combined with the 90 degree ± G adding a “normal regime” and giving us: plus-vs-minus; up-vs-down; in-vs-out.
The six XYZ spokes always come through the mid-edges of the reference BRYG tetrahedron, used to anchor quadrays.
The drone in question was meant to spy on a certain steer that had escaped the neighbor’s property and was squatting near Walden Pond (this is a west coast Walden).
By the time we’d re-figured out the setup, we’d burned through the drone’s rather limited battery.
What to remember: the base unit controls the drone through ordinary radio, but if you want a real time picture (you obviously do) then the phone itself, mounted in the base unit, needs to connect to the drone’s WiFi channel, emanating from the drone itself.
Mere radio contact is insufficient but for the most limbic of systems.
Some in our school are aware I’m on another Cascadian circuit these days, this time a coastal versus a mountain, although there’s a range of mountains to go over twixt Portland and the coast.
Despite its name, Portland is far inland, on a north-flowing river (like the Nile) entering the Columbia, more like the Nile in size, which flows west to the Pacific and is navigable, thinks to dredging around the mouth at Astoria.
My route took my past the McMinnville Air and Space Museum, playfully decorated with hand-me-down 747s (Boeing) and made over to advertise Evergreen, the company behind this museum.
My activist friends used to protest outside of Evergreen cuz it was in cahoots in Central America with what would end up destabilizing the USA: secret teams operating off the books and under the radar, thereby destroying any chance might weddcall our way of life “democratic”.
All water under the bridge by now, now that the USA is gone, leaving the empty shell we still salute and pledge allegiance to, especially if we’re not yet thinking adults i.e. are still juveniles (not yet geeks, just nerds i.e. “ugly ducklings” (awkwardly unaware)).
I made a beeline for D River, the world’s shortest (east to west) only to discover, upon arriving in my parking lot, that I had degraded my not-tinted lenses and in fact one was missing from its frame. How did that happen?
All I remember is Dr. Jiang coming through on Verizon, with audio through my Bluetooth Bat (a tiny amplifying speaker device), talking about Dante, Virgil, Purgatory, Heaven & Hell. A great lecture!
Somewhere in the drive, I switched glasses, from not-tinted to tinted. How I managed to mangle the non-tinted pair is still a mystery, a miracle. I’ll need to get replacement eyeglasses when I get back to Portland.
I bring up Dr. Jiang in part because my “bus binder” homework reader contains a 40-pager mapping three namespace, that of Jiang, that of Blake, and that of Friedman, the paper’s author.
I showed that binder to a Wanderer in Depoe Bay, over oyster stew. We could find a common language in archeology and geology, and changing sea levels.
Depoe Bay owes its craggy gothic shoreline to pyroclastic flows that happened millions of years ago, whereas similar flows from Vesuvius buried Herculaneum just moments ago, relatively speaking.
The wayward steer and drone action all came later in that same trip. I was only in Depoe Bay for the one night.
