Saturday, March 29, 2003

Belly is between 90 and 95 % today. At last. Belly Watch is winding down. Or maybe I should call it Navel Gaze. Or Navelgate.
The yard sale did not go well because of the wind.
I'm going to Nissa's tonight.

Oh, and some of you found the last comment of the last post cryptic. Recently there was a fish in a hasidic butchers that started talking about the end of the world to a Catholic, spanish worker who had no idea what it was talking about. The boss came in and understood the fish. NY Times said:
The story goes that a 20-pound carp about to be slaughtered
and made into gefilte fish for Sabbath dinner began
speaking in Hebrew, shouting apocalyptic warnings and
claiming to be the troubled soul of a revered community
elder who recently died.

Just thought you all should know that.

Friday, March 28, 2003

I didn't go anywhere. My stomach slammed me to the ground, so I poured a lot of Immodium into it. Screw that bastard!
Nissa had work to do, so she did that instead of seeing sick lil ol' me. I guess she's doing better than I am. She says that the pattern for her was that it got better, then worse, then better. I'm in the worse part, I think. I just hope this is over soon. Three days! I've thought about fasting, which many experts suggest in these situations. We'll see about that. If history is any guide, I don't do well with fasting. I don't mind the pain, weakness or cramps of fasting, it's the taste of food that I miss.
This next week should go smoother that this previous one. God willing, my stomach will heal. I have less obligations than this past week, so I should get more work done. The air should be cleaner because we're having high winds right now. And who knows, maybe the war will end and the world will decide to disarm. Maybe the economy will come roaring back and we'll all be living a la mode.

Anyway, good sabbath to you all, and to me as well. Don't let any fish tell you that the world is ending.

My stomach is still revolting. Nissa says hers is too. I don't know what we ate or did or who we offended. Phish said that my body might be rejecting the war.
It was nice that Phish just called. It was the first time in a long time that somebody besides Nissa called me just to say hello. I'm told that Charles tried to yesterday as well, but I was out all the live long day.
I spent the morning doing taxes and found that I've a giant refund coming. Well, it's giant by my standards. People in Anaheim Hills would probably think you destitute if you made the amount in half a week. But, like Thoreau, I make myself rich by making my wants few.
Tomorrow my grandmother is having a yard sale in our yard. Her mobile home park doesn't allow such things. So, I may spend the night at Nissa's and let our bellies commune in agony.

Thursday, March 27, 2003

So, I'm trying to figure out in what ways I'm not surrendering to the flow. I used to have it much more together than I seem to now. I used to let everything flow, except work. I used to be uptight about work. But now I'm all screwed up except for work. I don't worry about that anymore. I'm going to try and figure out what's changed and why and when.

By the way, if you get the chance, go rent or buy a film called "The Big Kahuna." It stars Kevin Spacey and Danny Devito in the performance of his career, in my opinion and I'm a Devito fan. And some kid who does an awesome job too.
Rob recommended it and I found it for cheap. I'm glad I own it. I probably wont watch it more than once a year, but I'll probably lend it out a bunch. It's one of the best discussions on the difference between spirituality and religion that I've seen.

I want to get something straight here. There are all of these metaphors that make us feel very safe and very above things that the George Bernard Shaw in me sees as a cart full of manure.
The world situation, with a divided superpower nation and an unjust war, is not like Vietnam. It's not even like the first Gulf War. The Patriot Act is not like McCarthyism. The political coup using the distruction of a great building full of our people and the threat of terror for their own gains is not like Hitler.
Things are much more confusing and new. I think a great step would be to stop pretending that we understand all of this. We're unprepared and we need to realize that we're all screwed in a totally new way. Also that this could go further than all of that evil stated above.

If you want a good metaphor, I've got another one I've been wanting to get out. Making fun of Philip Glass is like beating up Quakers. Just because it's so easy to do doesn't mean it's a good idea.

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

Strange day. The kind of day that makes you feel sane in an insane world. I woke up feeling like a giant, wet rat had crawled into my stomach while I slept and was trying to get out. I also had a mild headache, which I get on occasion probably from my bad teeth or my atrocious sinuses.
Nissa called before I got to stare at the ceiling for five minutes and got me out of bed. She came over and revealed that her stomach was doing the same thing to her. We figured it was the mamey shake that we shared on Monday, chalked it up to experience and went to the Fountain Valley Library. I had another one of my morning freak outs about the world being sinister, so she drove.
I got a modest stack of inventory. It's nice now that I get to buy quality instead of quantity. I like it a lot better. If there's a book I'm not sure will sell quickly, I leave it behind.
We came home and took an hour long nap. My brain felt a little better after that. A little less scattered. Maybe I need to be getting more sleep.
But when we got into the living room, we found that there was a swarm of termites humping the front windows. I usually like to go the natural way with pests, but I didn't have a termite eating ferret or a box of spiders, so I doused them in bug spray. We went for a walk to let the front room air out.
We ate dinner at Mother's. I had whole wheat pancakes, whole wheat toast, poached eggs, organic brown rice, and a boysenberry lemonade. We both felt better after eating. We'd been fasting all day, which may have sped up the healing process, but made us feel like the wet rats in our stomachs were throwing stones. After dinner we felt like they were throwing stones, but had put cushions around the walls of our bellies to do it.
Nissa, ingenious little critter that she is, figured out some codes for the Gauntlet game we like to play at the nickel arcade. She became a dwarf in S & M clothing. I became a chicken that shoots firey eggs out of its mouth. It was fun to be a normal sized chicken fighting the bosses at the end of the levels.
Soon our tummys cried out once more, so we went buckity buckity off to home.

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

Lesson of the day: Rain makes the flowers bloom. We must all press on from our mistakes with new lessons in tow.

Today I went on a walk with my mother and when we were a little over a block from home I spotted a caterpillar on the asphalt. He was black with spikes shooting out all over. Needless to say I have no idea what gender the insect was, but I'm using "he." He climbed up and down my hands on the way home. He also raised up his head as if to sniff the air. I put him in the shade garden and thought, "The storm is gone!"

Monday, March 24, 2003

A bunch more things:

1) The Fox network seems to be tailored to their rich viewers. It's tasteless, flashy, and to the right of Attila the Hun.

2) Tonight's venting goes to Citibank. When I heard that Citibank was going to take over my bank, I was upset and vowed to get my money out of there in protest of Citibank's anti-rainforest policy. But then I spaced and today found that the change has already occured... for the most part. They've reopened their doors in spite of their level of preparedness. Everyone was pissed. They'd frozen everyone's accounts that they hadn't finished uploading. They were rude. I've filled out simpler job applications than their deposit/withdrawl slips. RPM Books is pulling out and seeking a better bank.

3) Yesterday I bought some little goldfish. You see, I have a giant fish called an oscarfish, which I've named Toulouse, who eats the plants I put in his aquarium. This means he probably isn't getting something in his diet that he needs. So I bought six little, eight-cent goldfish. They didn't last an hour with Toulouse. He was a killing machine. His entire being went to capture and swallowing. It was clear that this was what he needed. It was also chilling to watch. Another in a seemingly endless line of reminders of how the angel of death does not readily suffer dalliance.

4) Last night Nissa and I had two ducks fly eight feet overhead quacking.

5) Number 4 was a haiku.

6) Today I saw Michael Nehring and his puppy, Maive. He keeps her in his office while teaches theater. Maive is a one year old black (Lab?) saved from abandoment and saved again from a pound by Michael. Maive is beautiful. Michael is beautiful too.
Then Niss and I went to Felix's for dinner where I got a mamey milkshake with my lemon chicken, blackbeans and rice, and maduros. We watched a Strawberry Shortcake video that she'd found, which gave me an epiphany about surrendering to the flow rather than fighting all of the time. Seeking the joy and spreading same. Advice I give often and find myself wanting more often than I'd care to notice.
"Once in a while you can be shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right." -Robert Hunter

Sunday, March 23, 2003

Two more things:

1) After having seen "Clerks," last night I saw as much as I could handle of "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back." I almost got whiplash! I didn't get to see the slow progression from multi-leveled Clerks, through fame, to teeny gross out flick "J & SB." Great Ceasar's Ghost! Wha hoppen?

2) The color scheme of the yeti was the main difference between the Rudolph yeti and the G.I. Joe yeti. They were built the same and their faces were alike. The G.I. Joe was a yellow and white scheme wereas Rudolph's was blue and white. But even the creepy, toothy smile was the same!

I had a hard weekend. Everybody's heaviness came crashing down on me when they went away and I spent some time alone.

I had a hard time watching the Oscars this evening. I've written to a friend who is having a problem about how open she is on her blog because the people she vents about are reading it. Tonight I understand because I don't feel like I can really express all of what's gone on inside of my head this evening because of people who will read this. I'm not sure about taking my own advice and using this as a monologue instead of a conversation and letting whoever is going to deal with it deal with it. The inevitable emails of concern and apology be damned. It's a lot easier to give that kind of advice to others.

I didn't hear a good deal of the Oscars. I also wasn't allowed to speak, but everybody else was, as well as play loud things behind us on the computer when we tried to hear. I had to stand up for Nissa when she made an offhand comment early on about Geena Davis seeming somewhat spaced was met with stern reminders and reprimands that she didn't know Ms. Davis. Then they openly razzed Meryl Streep for being apparently high, so we didn't hear what she had to say, and Nissa was quite pissed at the hypocrisy. She said so and I backed her. Nobody gave a rat's ass nor took notice that we were saying anything at all at all.
People suck and I told Nissa on our way home that I'm in no hurry to do that again. I told her that we totally should have watched at her place. I teared up over loneliness, which is something I need a lot less of and seem to keep getting a lot more of.

Okay, there's about as much venting as I feel comfortable doing publically. Actually, it's a great deal more than I was comfortable with, but I did it anyway.

God bless Michael Moore though. His courage and his example gives me hope.

Thanks, Kelly. You helped me talk myself through writing what I've just written.