UrFix's Blog

A geek without a cause

Designed with WordPress

Author: Isaias Irizarry

A draft of my wordpress Weather dashboard.

type: sidebar
path: test
title: weather
cards:
  - type: iframe
    url: >-
      https://embed.windy.com/embed.html?type=map&location=coordinates&metricRain=default&metricTemp=default&metricWind=default&zoom=3&overlay=wind&product=ecmwf&level=surface&lat=42.553&lon=-91.758
    aspect_ratio: 50%
  - type: clock
    view_layout:
      position: sidebar
  - type: vertical-stack
    cards:
      - type: custom:mushroom-template-card
        entity: sensor.nws_alerts_alerts
        primary: 🌩️ National Weather Service Alerts
        icon: mdi:alert
        icon_color: amber
        multiline_secondary: false
        tap_action:
          action: more-info
        secondary: |-
          {% if (states('sensor.nws_alerts_alerts') | int) > 0 %}
            {{ states('sensor.nws_alerts_alerts') }} active alert{{ 's' if (states('sensor.nws_alerts_alerts') | int) > 1 else '' }}
          {% else %}
            No active alerts
          {% endif %}
        badge_color: ""
        fill_container: false
      - type: conditional
        conditions:
          - condition: numeric_state
            entity: sensor.nws_alerts_alerts
            above: 0
        card:
          type: markdown
          content: >
            {% set alerts = state_attr('sensor.nws_alerts_alerts', 'Alerts') %}
            {% if alerts %}
              {% for alert in alerts %}
            ⚠️ **{{ alert.Event }}**

            📰  {{ alert.Headline }}

            🕒 Issued:   {{ as_local(strptime(alert.Sent,
            '%Y-%m-%dT%H:%M:%S%z')).strftime('%B %-d, %Y at %-I:%M %p') }}

            ⏰ Expires:   {{ as_local(strptime(alert.Expires,
            '%Y-%m-%dT%H:%M:%S%z')).strftime('%B %-d, %Y at %-I:%M %p') }} {% if
            alert.Severity != 'Unknown' %}

            📊 Severity: {{ alert.Severity }} {% endif %}

            {% if alert.Certainty != 'Unknown' %} 📡 Certainty: {{
            alert.Certainty }} {% endif %}

            <details> <summary>📝 <strong>Description</strong></summary>
              {% set desc = alert.Description.replace('\n', ' ') %}
              {% set parts = desc.split('* ') %}
              {% for part in parts if part %}
              <strong>{{ part.split('...')[0] | trim }}:</strong> {{ part.split('...', 1)[1] | trim }}
              {% endfor %}
            </details>

            <details>
              <summary>📢 <strong>Instructions</strong></summary>
              {% set instruction = alert.Instruction.replace('\n', ' ') %}
              {{ instruction | trim }}
            </details>

              {% endfor %}
            {% else %} No active alerts. {% endif %}
    grid_options:
      columns: 12
      rows: auto
    view_layout:
      position: sidebar
  - type: custom:windrose-card
    title: Wind direction
    data_period:
      hours_to_show: 4
    refresh_interval: 300
    windspeed_bar_location: bottom
    wind_direction_entity:
      entity: sensor.wind_direction
      use_statistics: true
      direction_compensation: 0
    windspeed_entities:
      - entity: sensor.wind_speed
        name: speed
        speed_unit: auto
        use_statistics: true
        windspeed_bar_full: true
        output_speed_unit: mps
        speed_range_beaufort: true
    direction_labels:
      cardinal_direction_letters: NESW
    windrose_draw_north_offset: 0
    current_direction:
      show_arrow: true
      arrow_size: 50
      center_circle_size: 30
    compass_direction:
      auto_rotate: true
      entity: sensor.wind_direction
    cardinal_direction_letters: N,E,S,W
    matching_strategy: direction-first
    center_calm_percentage: true
    view_layout:
      position: sidebar
  - square: true
    type: grid
    cards:
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.esphome_web_9e83dc_temperature
        detail: 2
        name: Inside
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.esphome_web_9e83dc_higrow1_humidity_2
        detail: 1
        name: Humid
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.esphome_web_9e83dc_bh1750_illuminance_2
        detail: 1
        name: Lux
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.wind_speed
        detail: 1
        name: Wind
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_dew_point
        detail: 1
        name: Dew
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_grass_pollen_day_0
        detail: 1
        name: Pollen
    view_layout:
      position: sidebar
  - square: true
    type: grid
    cards:
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_apparent_temperature
        detail: 1
        name: Outside
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_realfeel_temperature
        detail: 1
        name: Feels like
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.humidity_kikk
        detail: 1
        name: Humidity
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_uv_index_day_0
        detail: 1
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_thunderstorm_probability_day_0
        detail: 1
        name: Thunder
      - graph: line
        type: sensor
        entity: sensor.home_precipitation
        detail: 1
        name: Rain
    view_layout:
      position: main
    columns: 6
icon: mdi:weather-cloudy-alert

I Will Embrace This Pain and Burn It as Fuel for My Journey

by

words and shit

I will not flinch.

Not from the ache in my bones
nor the heaviness that gathers in the folds of my spirit.
This pain—raw, holy, and uninvited—
has set up camp in the hollows of my ribcage,
and I have made it tea.

I will not cast it out.
I will sit with it, name it,
trace its origins like constellations
stitched across the firmament of my becoming.
I will not beg for numbness.
Let it throb. Let it throb like a warning drum,
a sacred rhythm that means: I am still here.

I will press my lips to the fire
and drink it slow.
Not because I am unbroken,
but because I am willing to be broken beautifully.

I will feed this flame with the letters I never sent,
with the nights I cried into my own hands,
with the echoes of voices that told me I’d never rise.
I will burn what tried to bury me.
I will turn grief into gasoline.

And when I walk,
the earth will remember me not as a man
who suffered quietly,
but as one who lit his pain
like a lantern
and kept walking into the dark—
glowing.
“The Fire I Do Not Feed”

by

words and shit

I walk with a furnace under my ribs.
A red beast pacing behind my teeth.
Sheer voltage in my palms,
heat in my hips,
lightning nesting at the base of my spine—
and still, I do not touch.

My body is a hymn of hunger.
Not just wanting, but roaring.
A lion made of lust, pacing the cage
with velvet paws and blood memory.

I see skin and hear psalms.
I smell sweat and taste scripture.
The ache is constant,
like waves against a dam
that I refuse to let break.

Not because I’m holy—
but because I’m healing.
Because I am tired
of giving away thunder
to people who only wanted the storm.

I want to be a lover who knows his own name
when the clothes come off.
I want to stay whole,
even when I open.

So I let the fire burn inside me
and make art from the smoke.
I turn my wanting into poetry,
my ache into prayer,
my restraint into power.

Not untouched—
but untamed and unspent.
Not numb—
but sovereign.
Not lonely—
but lit.

They say men like me are dangerous.
That we must be broken or bled.
But I am not starving.
I am fasting.

And in that difference,
there is revolution.
The Light Has Died

by

words and shit

There is incense in the walls.
Sandalwood and salt.
It clings to the air like memory—
burned slow,
never fully leaving.

I used to wake to bells in my chest,
a rhythm that knew sunrise
before the sky did.
Now I rise only
because gravity insists.
No melody.
Just the dull tug of skin on soul.

She—
or whatever wore light so easily—
left me a silence so loud
it bruises the birdsong.
Even the robins hesitate
at my windowsill now,
uncertain if my hunger
is for seed
or resurrection.

I walked into a church the other day,
but the pews had teeth,
and the stained glass wept red.
I whispered a name I wasn’t supposed to say.
Not in this world.
Not anymore.
The altar cracked a little.
The candle gave up.

There was a crash once—
not metal, not tire,
but spirit tearing fabric,
like linen at a funeral.
Illinois took something holy from me.
A flame that hummed in my ribcage.
Now there’s just a cavern
where offerings used to go.

At night I dream of a humming—
not electrical,
but celestial.
A tune braided in gold and marigold,
calling me to remember
what I must forget.

I still bless the soil.
But the basil wilts with no reason,
and the moon forgets where my house is.
I light candles,
but they curl away from the match,
like even fire is tired of pretending.

I am not bitter.
Bitterness requires hope spoiled.
I am beyond the spoil.
I am bone without marrow,
a psalm missing its last line,
a prayer left in the throat
of a man who once glowed.

There was a voice—
gentle, sacred—
that used to call me something
only God could translate.
Now the heavens are silent.
Or I am deaf.
Either way,
the light in me
has gone.

And I am still here.
Ash in my lungs.
Honey on my hands.
No idea why.

UrFix's Blog

Author: Isaias Irizarry

A draft of my wordpress Weather dashboard.

I Will Embrace This Pain and Burn It as Fuel for My Journey

“The Fire I Do Not Feed”

The Light Has Died