The Argument for Density, Part 1

Just to clarify here, we're talking about urban density, not the general physical concept of more mass in less space.

1) Sprawl causes deforestation. Whether it's cutting down trees to make room for new subdivisions, or the strip malls that feed them, or the roads that allow transit, or any number of other reasons, thousands of trees are cut down so the middle class can have a yard. Now, numerous practical studies like this one have shown that deforestation has various ill effects to the environment, including loss of biodiversity and desertification. Besides, forests are pretty.

2) In any physical system, the lower the surface area/volume ratio, the less energy transfer there is. Bergmann's Rule regarding the skin temerature of large animals is a biological example of this law. The converse is true, any mechanical engineer can explain that a radiator has to be a manifold with all that surface area to effectively transfer heat to the outside environment. Now, if you accept that population density is analogous to an inverse numerical representation of the surface area/volume ratio (at least for urban areas) then the lower the density, the higher the SA/V ratio, and therefore the greater the energy transfer. Rather than get metaphorical here, for this point we'll just leave it at: heating in the winter and cooling in the summer is more expensive and less energy efficient for low-density urban areas.

3) Transportation for dense urban areas is easier for people who don't insist on driving themselves. Mass transit becomes much more practical (and because it has less area to cover, it becomes easier to cover the area efficiently, leading to the virtuous cycle of people using it more, and so having public mass transit pay for itself.)

4) (This is more of a corollary to points already raised, but it builds on the others, so it gets its own number.) The costs of sprawl go beyond the obvious ones of deforestation, energy, etc. When subdivisions and the shopping centers that feed them are built, they are usually built using subsidies from the municipal government. The first form these subsidies take is that as part of an incorporated city, the city generally pays to build the roads for the expansions, as well as running utilities out to them. Now, if an individual buys a plot of land and builds a house, such niceties as electricity and sewers have to be handled by that individual. But if a developer buys a larger plot and builds lots of houses, the city pays for those niceties. In the case of the malls, cities will often subsidize not only the buildout of services and roads, but will also subsidize the companies opening shop with handouts like tax waivers and such. (Home developers are often given tax waivers as well, for that matter.) The cruel joke is that the taxes that are being waived are the same taxes that would otherwise (maybe, come close to, sort of,) pay for the services build-out, and the almost-immediate need for maintenance.

That's it for now. More later.
Your pal,
Dylan.

So starting off the second week of my break from the drinking life seems to be going better than starting the first weekend. Went to a friend's birthday party last Friday night and wouldn't you know, she (or one of her friends) had been kind enough to stock the party with top-shelf booze (that remained untouched nearly the whole night.) Hard to say no when it's stuff I can barely afford at a liquor store, much less a bar. But despite the temptation, and the soft pressure of seeing my friends booze it up, I managed to drink only water. That being said, it was an odd party. Several of my compatriots (whom included the Hurricane, Gavagirl, and Jefe...perhaps we should have talked about our blogs) commented on feeling like the freaks of the party. Which is true-our birthday-ridden friend T___ had invited mostly conventional (by which I mean Republican) friends, older than herself and married. Our delegation was therefore not only the youngest, but contained the majority of smokers (a little league coach came out to bum one off somebody at one point) and seemingly the only people who were primarily drinking. Except yours truly, of course, and Gavagirl, which meant that we spent equal amounts of time smoking and critiquing the design of the kitchen.

I've become a bit of a design snob recently, though it's not as if I have formal training, or even a specific school I adhere to. I tend to lean toward modernism a little, although I think what really irks me is the faux-folksy-rustic look that seems the (godawful) rule in the suburbs and exurbs. Shaped particle board, coated in woodgrain laminate, or worse real wood stained horrible shades of pepto/vomit pink and white, make my skin crawl. The worst part of this particular kitchen had to be the crown molding free-floating on cabinets that did not reach the ceiling. Come the fuck on, that baroque shit was designed to hide bad joins with the ceiling in the days before caulking. Putting it in any contemporary context is like admitting you're incompetent, if it's actually at a seam between the ceiling and something else free floating like it was in that kitchen, it's like admitting that you not only don't know how to do a nice job, you don't know how to cover it up, either. If anyone knows the architectural firm that designed the cookie cutters at Travis Country, let me know-I've got a lead on some professional drawing-and-quartering people.

To end on a positive note: I've been watching the DVD my dad sent me of No Direction Home, the Scorcese-directed documentary about Bob Dylan. One of the interviewees discusses going to a club during the Cuban Missile Crisis, seeing Dylan on the stage, and being invited up to play a few songs with him. The mental response related in the interview was "how can you be thinking of playing when we could all be dead tomorrow?" I thought, and the Hurricane said as well, how better to spend what might be your last night on earth but doing what you love, or at least having fun? So, more fun and less worry people.

Your Pal,
Dylan.

Not used to this whole "drinking before it gets dark" thing. May take some time, and besides, I'm not sure I want to get used to it. Last Sunday we had a "book club" meeting at Ginger Man, and as had been described, we got about fifteen minutes of discussion in before it devolved into the usual social event. That started at four pm. A few of us ended up continuing drinking well past midnight. Yes there was a hangover involved, but not the rager I expected. Then today, The Hurricane and I went with some friends to a tour of independence brewery, which was really just an excuse to drink beer and sell merch. Must feed the merch beast. Courtesy of a couple of responsibly-minded parents who had come with their impressionable spawn, we received extra tickets, to facilitate a real drinking event. Note that this followed a night of drinking at various functions.

It all puts me in mind of a comment a friend and former roommate made once when confounded by my ability to drink copious amounts and usually not get sick and almost never suffer the next day: "you are built for abuse." An interesting interpretation of my physiology, to be sure; I have to admit my curiosity of whether it goes for my psychology as well. It's hard not to wonder when many of the people I am around seem to collapse under the lightest strain. It seems as though histrionic behavior has become more and more acceptable. Perhaps as we become more and more saturated with the mass media, we gradually assimilate dramatic behavior into our daily routine because we are unable to distinguish our lives from those being represented. In effect, we are like people at a party compensating for increasing volume by speaking more loudly, which adds to a commonly perceived positive feedback loop. Of course, at some parties, people respond by lowering the volume of some easily controlled output source, such as the stereo. Unfortunately, there seems to be little opportunity to do this on a national or worldwide scale; therefore I propose a more general form of TV turnoff week.

I think we should all try to lower the volume in our lives: teach our minds to be quiet by being in the quiet. Sit silently with someone you love for twenty minutes, or by yourself. Here in Austin the weather is perfect for it right now. Go to the park, lay in the grass, and stare at the sky for half an hour, and let the sensory experience settle around you. No radio, no phone, no computer or TV or book. Just be still in the moment. I think it'll help.

Your pal,
Dylan