my turn to manifest whales

Whales whales whales!

Last summer I went down the Wind and the Peel with my amazing sister and some very cool women.

This summer I head north again! To Whitehorse! Then we go to the Dawson City Music Fest! Then we goof off for a few days and get ready to drive to Skagway! Then we take an overnight ferry and end up in Sitka! Then we paddle in kayaks up the coast! Then we play with whales! Then we go to Pelican (pop. 163) to hang out with Rose and Marcus and enjoy ourselves at some "party's"! Then we end up in Hoonah! Then we take a ferry home!



I have not paddled with whales before but a friend of mine who has says it is wonderful and terrifying! Like standing next to a speeding train whip by on a track, because it is huge, powerful, and near! I am glad a kayak can be hosed out if I crap my pants or experience any form of stress incontinence!

As you can tell, I am excited!!!!!11!!!!1!!!1111!!!!!!1!1!!!!!!

loose end

Some people have asked how my relationship with Olive Oyl is going. It's going fine, she's been very patient with me despite my occasionally mercurial behaviour. (I was away for work for a week, and left her behind, choosing instead to eat free ice cream twice a day and stuff my face with tapas and rioja at night. I still fit in my pants, though, so no real damage was sustained.)

So what's the verdict at this point? Whether my "legacy brain" is really being tricked or it's just that fat triggers a feeling of satiety, I'd say drinking oil between meals totally kills my appetite and makes me feel full much faster. I'm using it more to stop myself from munching endlessly. Because I feel full for a long time, it's easier to concentrate on other stuff and not daydream about food all the time. I imagine I could use it to lose weight very easily, but because I haven't been too scientific about it, I haven't lost any. We'll see over the next month. I have to give science a chance.

good way to start Thursday

Oh god, this one is good too.


Mockingbirds

This morning
two mockingbirds
in the green field
were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons
of their songs
into the air.
I had nothing

better to do
than listen.
I mean this
seriously.

In Greece,
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door

to two strangers
who were,
it soon appeared,
not men at all,

but gods.
It is my favorite story--
how the old couple
had almost nothing to give

but their willingness
to be attentive--
but for this alone
the gods loved them

and blessed them--
when they rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water

from a fountain,
the light
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,

and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
bowed down--
but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled, as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning--
whatever it was I said

I would be doing--
I was standing
at the edge of the field--
I was hurrying

through my own soul,
opening its dark doors--
I was leaning out;
I was listening.

Copyright © 1994 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; February 1994; Mockingbirds; Volume 273, No. 2; page 80.

an armful of white blossoms

Maybe I'm just feeling all poemy these days (revisiting my first love, Mr. J. Alfred Prufrock, who reminds me to NOT live like that), but I just stumbled across this site that posted a bunch by Mary Oliver. Oh, she's good.


The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross
Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings
Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

© Mary Oliver. From The Paris Review # 124, Fall, 1992.

I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled

My back is so messed up right now I'm taking the day off work to deal with it and rest. Yesterday I was in so much pain, and not even THREE ibuprofens made a dent. (I have it on good authority that four is the actual safe maximum, but don't take my word for it, ask your doc.) I could barely think straight so used a little graphics project at work to stay as focussed on other stuff as possible. I got it done, but all afternoon I fantasized about going home early and drinking myself into a numbed stupor. I'd have tried the eeeevil Robaxacet, but that stuff just makes me high (in a bad way), and does not do much else.

This morning, I woke up and puttered a bit, lined up some appointments, felt sorry for myself, and then cooked up a huge hamburger for breakfast, which I ate sans bun and with loads of worcestershire sauce and ketchup, followed by a hearty bowl of Crispix and blueberries with soy milk.

I can already feel my life force returning.

hoop some ribs

There's a rib cook-off in my town today. My office is a wasteland - everyone has gone off to spend their $15 on a plate of greasy pig meat slathered in sauce.

I suggested to some other friends here (the ones who are hipper than I ever care to be), that we go later in the afternoon. Yeah, one said, let's go hoop some ribs around three. Hoop? I asked. It's something you do with drugs, he said, you shove them up your butt.

Maybe "hoop" is in the second edition of the slang flash cards.

after market parts

Recent message on my answering machine:

Yeah it's Ronnie down at the garage. Your car is ready. I had to take the tranny apart there, replace the flywheel, 'cause the clutch was slippin'? Uh, but I found out that the housing was cracked, I had to order you a new one, but I got one second hand, it was rebuilt so, the price comes down a little bit for that, but anyway, she's all ready to go...

Who am I kidding!?! I don't know shit about cars! Damn! Cover blown again. [sings:] K, I'm home but not forever, call me if you FEEL like it, don't if you don't. Chowder!

It was not Ronnie from the garage at all, but rather my awesome friend Mike, builder of houses and master of a million voices. He has also left entire messages talking as though he'd just had his wisdom teeth out, sounding spacey and spittley: "Hi Roo, isss Mike, isss Ssursday? I jusss hass my wissdim teesss out. Anyway, derss ssome ssonserts on ziss weekend?"

There have been a few observations lately that 30-somethings are acting like teenagers, wearing colourful sneakers and ironic t-shirts, listening to the latest cool bands, etc. and I agree that these articles are missing the point. But if 30-somethings acting like teenagers even a little bit means that I keep getting novelty messages in silly voices, then bring on the social regression!

the only way my dad would use a belt, other than to hold up his pants

coco: i'm hoping to grade on Sunday for my next [karate] belt

banjeroo: which belt then?

coco: brown with 2 white stripes
last one before black

banjeroo: wow

coco: actually, it's partly your father's fault
when i had dinner at your's last year, i mentioned how i had trained to brown belt
and he said well, what's the point of that, why not black?
and i was slightly indignant

banjeroo: ha ha! that's SO dad
he's hilarious

coco: but there you go, it motivated me to really get back into it

banjeroo: "well what's the point in that" oh god
he is funny

coco: i thought, dammit, i'm better than that
i'll show him, mumble mumble

banjeroo: man, welcome to his parenting style
how he pushed us all to excel by inciting mild indignation