Herman Yung 1/9/25 Herman Yung 1/9/25

Coming to terms with the old Doobybrain

Making my website disappear — on purpose.

I used to think the internet was forever. That everything you wrote, submitted, posted, and interacted with online was somehow transformed into a data set that lasted for eternity, beyond my own death.

A part of me still thinks that, but I’ve witnessed huge chunks of the internet that I knew as a kid disappearing forever. There are a few reasons I can think of quickly: site owners passing away, site ownership being bought/sold, life changes contributing to a site’s slow demise… You get the idea. Life happens and eventually, unless there’s a lot of money involved behind the scenes, little guys like me eventually lose a bit of steam.

An ominous email

January 4, 2025 - the day I said bye to an old friend

Doobybrain was started in 2002, in the earliest days of my internet use, when communication was simple and people checked email maybe just once or twice a day. AIM was the chat tool of my peers (texting wasn’t a regular thing) and a blog was just a recently coined internet term that really meant this kid spends a lot of time at the computer.

Doobybrain was, at first, a static HTML page, humbly edited nearly every day by me in Macromedia Dreamweaver. I would add bits of my internet findings to this HTML page until it seemed arbitrarily long for scrolling, and then I would manually make another HTML page linking to the previous one (and so on and so forth). It was laborious but it was fun and eventually, my site grew enough that I converted over to WordPress.

The WordPress age last a long time from what I recall. It was the first real transformation of my site into a blog that handled linking and ads without much input needed from me. It was WordPress that allowed me to grow the site even more and get it in front of hundreds of thousands of readers. It changed my life in a way (I moved to California because of it, which is kind of another story for another day).

But with WordPress came the first phase of letting go of Doobybrain. All of those HTML pages I made didn’t transfer over to the new site at the time. Those HTML pages were saved forever on a 3.5” floppy disk that I lost a long time ago (I do wish I had those archives). And so a small part of me just accepted it even though the early data-hoarder in me didn’t like it.

Eventually, WordPress became a bit of a chore and I switched the site over to Squarespace where yet again, the WordPress archives didn’t really survive online. I have those archives, but they are forever locked away in the WordPress format that is only available in incomplete pieces on The Internet Archive. I did not like having to start-over because of the change in site hosting/format.

What I’ve Learned

This site currently is still on Squarespace, but I have started fresh. The previous Doobybrain-on-Squarespace was not my favorite to be honest which is why it became so easy to neglect. It seemed monotonous, voice-less, and more quick to post without any thought whatsoever. I think of it as my version of Twitter even though I was simultaneously posting on Twitter at the time. I just didn’t know where the website Doobybrain fit in anymore and it really made me sad.

And so it took me over a year to realize I just had to let it go in order for me to begin writing again. All the worries of “breaking the internet” due to hyperlinks going to 404 pages just…had to be. It was the life-cycle of the internet that I had begun to experience more and more so why be so precious about preserving my own digital fingerprints? Like all life, the internet has a death as well and maybe I’m coming to terms with an old version of myself going away forever, unable to be indexed, searched, or read by anybody ever again.

Herman Yung 1/8/25 Herman Yung 1/8/25

Hidden Atlanta: The abandoned Tucker-North Dekalb Line

An abandoned trench in Atlanta once served as a possible extension of the MARTA Blue Line.

Tucked away behind some overgrowth adjacent to West Howard Avenue in Atlanta, GA is an unfinished spur line known as the Tucker-North Dekalb Line. I had the pleasure of checking this location off my to-go list lately after hearing about it from the video below several years ago.

The abandoned MARTA line

The spur line consists of a partially built tunnel between the East Lake and Edgewood stations along MARTA’s Blue Line. Once in the area, the land gently slopes downward toward East Lake station and then underneath it for a few feet in an enclosed tunnel. As you can imagine, the area isn’t very protected and has been covered top-to-bottom in graffiti.

There have been some talks in recent years of expanding MARTA to use this line again but nothing concrete ever happens from it. For now, it’s a peaceful spot hidden from street view with MARTA running above you and light vehicle traffic nearby.

Herman Yung 1/8/25 Herman Yung 1/8/25

Hidden Gem of Atlanta: The Noguchi Playground at Piedmont Park

Isamu Noguchi’s only playground for kids can be seen in Atlanta.

Hidden just behind the entrance of Atlanta’s Piedmont Park, is a wonderful playground designed by Japanese artist Isamu Noguchi.

The Noguchi Playground is his only intact and installed playground despite designing several playgrounds in his lifetime. His design is instantly iconic, with large colorful shapes and sharp angles that might otherwise today be labeled as hazardous to kids. Installed and dedicated in 1976, the playground saw a period of neglect before being refurbished in 1996.

Today, it has some weathering and could maybe use a new coat of paint, but it is in great working order. On my visit, there were kids making use of the fun play-things and slides. The High Museum in Atlanta continues to contribute support to this design mainstay.

Herman Yung 1/6/25 Herman Yung 1/6/25

The last of the Meatpacking District holdouts

A deal has been made for the last meat packing businesses to move out of the Meatpacking District.

The last of the original meat and butchering plants in NYC’s Meatpacking District have accepted a deal to sell the land back to the city for redevelopment.

While I didn’t grow up in the Meatpacking District, the area holds a special place in my heart not too long before it became the upscale shopping and entertainment district it is known for today. When I was younger, I would often walk with my camera to this area of the Meatpacking District to make friends with some of the un-housed people calling the area home. Back in the 2000s, the Meatpacking wasn’t quite as dangerous as I had read about in decades past and it also wasn’t developed much until the boom that came with the High Line Park in 2009. During this period, I would walk around, talk to strangers, occasionally walk the abandoned rail line (High Line), and photograph the “grittiness” of the neighborhood. It was quiet then, nobody around to bother you, and honestly kind of nice.

Soon, the last remnants of what I remember of this area from my own childhood will be gone, and the remainder of the memories of an even older Meatpacking District for some others will only live in the heads of past generations.

If you’ve followed any developments in the Meatpacking District in the last decade, you’ll know that this was a long time coming. Gansevoort Market stood at the epicenter of a grand revival for the Meatpacking, with Little Island on one side and The Standard Hotel and upscale shopping on the other side. It is, in my opinion, an unofficial extension of the West Village and in some ways, even looks it from the streets.

At this time, there isn’t a move-out date for these businesses at the Gansevoort Market, but now that the deal is done, you can be sure that they’ll slowly move out rather than wait for the final hammer to drop.

Herman Yung 12/30/24 Herman Yung 12/30/24

Discovering Bostwick: My Unexpected Stop in Georgia

A close-up look at how cotton is made at a cotton gin in Bostwick, GA.

I took a day-drive from Athens, GA to Madison, GA today with the Robinson family and on the way back I stopped by in a small post-industrial rural town called Bostwick. I’ve never heard of this place before and had no reference for its historical context, but it turns out that this sleepy pit-stop between cities was and still is a cotton-town!

While driving through, we stopped along the side of the road and met John Ruark of Ruark Farms. At first, I didn’t want to disturb him and his small crew as they operated heavy machinery in a cotton gin, but he saw me and my camera from afar and waved me in, telling me that I could virtually go anywhere in the facility undisturbed; I was shocked he wasn’t afraid of letting me in due to some sort of liability or safety concern.

**John Ruark of Ruark Farms**

Quality control checks at the Ruark Farms cotton gin

Inside the seemingly open-air facility, John casually led me through a tight maze of heavy machinery, all clanging and banging away loudly as cotton plants and seeds traveled through the machine lines and ultimately came out as giant compressed cotton clouds. The noise was deafening at times but the sight was incredible to witness (at least for this city boy!).

The final product at this cotton gin saw the freshly spun cotton tightly bound and bagged for shipment off to its next stop. Eventually, John tells me as he points to my sweatshirt, this cotton will become used in a number of textiles just like my clothes.

I witness John and his small team move nimbly through the factory, careful to keep perfect timing on certain machines to ensure quality control. Some of these men told me they had been working here for decades and that some of the machinery was more or less the same since the 1970’s.

Inside, cotton webs hung from every corner and light fixture and the sun lit up every cotton particle in the air. It was quite beautiful given the late time of day.

While the factory itself was a joy to walk through, the thing that stuck with me the most was just how seemingly trustworthy John and his team were with a random photographer showing up and deciding to photograph them at work without any prior notice. John trusted me and I am thankful he did.

Near the end of their work day, they powered down all their machines, closed up shop, and stood for one group photo. What a absolute joy to be connected to the people who make the cotton I use every day. As we all packed up to leave, John invited me back whenever I was in town — I think I’ll take him up on the offer!

Herman Yung 12/29/24 Herman Yung 12/29/24

Here I go (again)

Starting 2025 with a surprise.

Hello.

It has been a very, very, very long time.

I don't really have a reason for why my blogging took such a big hiatus but I think it had to do with me coming to terms with the internet itself changing. It's been such a weird place for me in the last few years with micro-blogging platforms and social media becoming the forefront of the personal identity. Name one platform and I've probably used it (well, except for maybe TikTok) over the years, all in the attempt to make some sense of the rapidly changing world of over-sharing and visual stimulation.

I got tired. I got tired of blogging quickly. I got tired of filtering through the immense garbage that was coming to the front of social media. My body and my mind just got exhausted from it all. It got exhausting and eventually, it wasn't fun anymore.

But I really missed writing. Not to you, the reader, but instead to nobody in particular. I miss just putting my thoughts down in a public place with no real intention of anybody reading it. I have this wild dream that one day, if all things are paid correctly forever and ever, that somebody will come across this site and discover all the great things I did (just a few years later). It's the old "StumbleUpon" feeling.

So here I go (again). Hello.