After a very long flu-imposed hiatus, I have been doing a little bit of yoga. I took a three weekend class for beginners who are interested in preparing to take intermediate classes. I have long understood that I am not actually advanced enough to take the crazy yoga flow 2 classes that I am so fond of at Laughing Lotus. I fall a lot. A lot compared to the rest of the class.
After taking the weekend sessions I have a clearer sense of why that is. I had thought that I was not flexible enough and that my gut was getting in my way. These things do factor in. But additionally, as CK pointed out to me, I am not strong enough yet for a lot of this stuff. My core, my back, my legs, my arms.
Strength comes through more practice and maybe a more diverse program of practice with a variety of different teachers and on my own.
Yesterday, I was in a class in which we did handstands. We did a handstand prep in the middle of the floor. Downward dog, walk your feet in, lift one leg and then kick that leg up. And, I had this moment, where I felt it. I was there. Only one leg, but I was there. I think I even squealed a little. At which point I flopped back down. Close but no stand. It felt qualitatively different from all the times that I had huffed and hopped and kicked and kicked. I felt close. So close that a part of me was kicking myself and asking why I didn't just go with it. Why did I have to sabotage myself like that? While the rest of me was captivated by that feeling. It was like I had kicked up my leg and thrown myself into the great unknown. And the great unknown was there to catch me.
Then we did this exercise where we run up to the wall, using the momentum to throw ourselves into handstand. Which again, I could barely do. I threw myself and at one point found that I had the right half of my body pressed right up against the wall and the left side of me hanging out in the air. In trying to pull myself away from the wall, I crumpled into a little mass of me. It was no fluke, I did this twice the second time during an exercise in which we did handstand on blocks. Same thing, I crumpled.
Part of it was being in a panic at being upside down. Part of it was that I was so disoriented in that upside down state that my brain could not figure out which limbs to control to accomplish the handstand proper.
I need to practice more and get stronger so that one of these days when I throw myself into the great unknown, it will catch me, and I will allow it to hold me.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
won't live long with it, can't live long without it
Last week at work, there was a day in which I could not distinguish the feeling of love from the feeling of hunger. So I called CK to confer on this phenomena. After a bit of teleconferring, and based on the lack of an object for this emotion, we determined that it was probably hunger.
I went to the Dr the other week for a check up. My Dr is a cutie. He looks a little like John Larroquette during his "Night Court" days, only less greasy. My Dr is a wise guy (by which I mean funny) and doesn't seem to mind that I am one too. So he tells me that I am healthy with the exception of elevated cholesterol. Which led me for one week to try to implement the kind of diet that drives a girl to sneak ice cream and cheeseburgers in between austere meals. I call it salad in a pita with a slice of turkey. Horrendous. Without cheese, food became a lonely place and meals were dire.
So I have decided to embrace my mortality and my love of cheese. What is life without cheese? Culinary death.
Addendum: The Dr suggested that I stop having cream cheese with my bagel. I asked if butter was a reasonable substitute to which he shook his head. But he could offer me no alternative. The one that I have come up with is: peanut butter.
I went to the Dr the other week for a check up. My Dr is a cutie. He looks a little like John Larroquette during his "Night Court" days, only less greasy. My Dr is a wise guy (by which I mean funny) and doesn't seem to mind that I am one too. So he tells me that I am healthy with the exception of elevated cholesterol. Which led me for one week to try to implement the kind of diet that drives a girl to sneak ice cream and cheeseburgers in between austere meals. I call it salad in a pita with a slice of turkey. Horrendous. Without cheese, food became a lonely place and meals were dire.
So I have decided to embrace my mortality and my love of cheese. What is life without cheese? Culinary death.
Addendum: The Dr suggested that I stop having cream cheese with my bagel. I asked if butter was a reasonable substitute to which he shook his head. But he could offer me no alternative. The one that I have come up with is: peanut butter.
Learning Curve
I've been learning how to play the REM song "Everybody Hurts." Because I am trying to learn how to fingerpick. Developing the muscle memory takes a lot more time than it used to.
Michael Stipe looks deliciously good in the video.
Walking out of a yoga class the other day I overheard some people talking about the other classes and lessons that they are taking and it struck me that in NYC it seems like everyone is taking a class or a lesson in something. Perhaps it is now New York specific but I am struck by the number of people who are learning to play instruments, learning new languages, learning to dance, learning how to walk and sit better, learning how to do the hully gully, learning to cook, and so on.
On one hand I wonder at the money that people are paying to be taught things. On the other I kind of like that fact that so many people are interested in learning new things beyond their school years.
Michael Stipe looks deliciously good in the video.
Walking out of a yoga class the other day I overheard some people talking about the other classes and lessons that they are taking and it struck me that in NYC it seems like everyone is taking a class or a lesson in something. Perhaps it is now New York specific but I am struck by the number of people who are learning to play instruments, learning new languages, learning to dance, learning how to walk and sit better, learning how to do the hully gully, learning to cook, and so on.
On one hand I wonder at the money that people are paying to be taught things. On the other I kind of like that fact that so many people are interested in learning new things beyond their school years.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Can't fight this feeling
The onion in my fridge,
despite the cold and the dark, has put out tender green shoots.
Behind the door she can sense a change
and reaches out in search of the sun.
despite the cold and the dark, has put out tender green shoots.
Behind the door she can sense a change
and reaches out in search of the sun.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Another Happy New Year
It is the Thai New Year today. I am catching the tail end of it.
To celebrate, I went back to A's yoga class which has become more impossibly hard than it was a few months ago. Murderous. I walked out of it, looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Look at that happy face. Who the hell is she?" Well apparently, she is me after A's impossibly strenuous yoga class.
And then I had one crunchy taco at Taco Bell because I had a little over a dollar in my purse and because I had a powerful craving for that yummy plastic nonsense.
Which is probably not traditional but it was a good night nonetheless.
To celebrate, I went back to A's yoga class which has become more impossibly hard than it was a few months ago. Murderous. I walked out of it, looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Look at that happy face. Who the hell is she?" Well apparently, she is me after A's impossibly strenuous yoga class.
And then I had one crunchy taco at Taco Bell because I had a little over a dollar in my purse and because I had a powerful craving for that yummy plastic nonsense.
Which is probably not traditional but it was a good night nonetheless.
It's like this
In life, there are many things that we learn by example. I think among these is how to love. We learn how to love and be loving by doing but also by the examples around us and through the guidance of those that we know and love.
It may be valuable to meet a person's friends to see what kinds of examples they offer and what guidance they give.
I count myself to be very lucky to have great examples and wonderful guides in my life.
It may be valuable to meet a person's friends to see what kinds of examples they offer and what guidance they give.
I count myself to be very lucky to have great examples and wonderful guides in my life.
Friday, April 11, 2008
:P
There are people in this world who will draw you out, make you think that you share an experience in common and then leave you hanging.
I think those people suck.
I think those people suck.
Mr. Excitement
I took in this youtube of Jackie Wilson singing "Lonely Teardrops".
I have always loved this song. But the man. Good god, the man. He is lighter than air. I have never seen the like of him.
Astounding.
I have always loved this song. But the man. Good god, the man. He is lighter than air. I have never seen the like of him.
Astounding.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Saturday's Alright
I step out of the bathroom at CK's house to witness her watching an infomercial on hair replacement products. When asked about this she says, "I haven't watched TV in a month, it's fascinating!"
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
I tell myself that in sum it's mostly good news here
The good news is that I have health insurance.
The good news is that I now have a primary care physician.
The good news is that the doctor says that I do not have pneumonia.
The bad news is that there are no pills to take to make this go away.
I have been sick with one thing or another since February 10th. For most of that time I have tried not to let it stop me.
Firstly, there were things to do, messages to be relayed and people who needed information and files that are apparently under my dominion.
Secondly, it seemed a damn shame to be incubating all of these germs and not share them with the world. But this past weekend I encountered a particularly nasty version of what for me has of late been the usual and I was home for the week.
At first, I did nothing but sleep but later I alternated between sleeping and working from home. Not because I am the dedicated sort, rather because all those reminder emails were not going to write themselves.
The good news is that I am starting to feel better.
The bad news is that every couple hours I feel faint and need to lay down.
The bad news is that when I lay me down to sleep the coughing keeps me up or wakes me up unless I fall asleep to the sound of golf on TV.
The good news is that I tried to go to work today.
The bad news is that my work computer has seen fit to die on me, a virus perhaps?
So I could do no work while at work. I came home where is it chilly and I do not control the thermostat, my arms are always cold as ice cubes, and I have a big stack of fleece blankets.
I know it is flammable, pills up easily, and does not breathe or temperature regulate but I still consider the inventor of the fluffy fleece blanket to be my own personal savior.
The good news is that I now have a primary care physician.
The good news is that the doctor says that I do not have pneumonia.
The bad news is that there are no pills to take to make this go away.
I have been sick with one thing or another since February 10th. For most of that time I have tried not to let it stop me.
Firstly, there were things to do, messages to be relayed and people who needed information and files that are apparently under my dominion.
Secondly, it seemed a damn shame to be incubating all of these germs and not share them with the world. But this past weekend I encountered a particularly nasty version of what for me has of late been the usual and I was home for the week.
At first, I did nothing but sleep but later I alternated between sleeping and working from home. Not because I am the dedicated sort, rather because all those reminder emails were not going to write themselves.
The good news is that I am starting to feel better.
The bad news is that every couple hours I feel faint and need to lay down.
The bad news is that when I lay me down to sleep the coughing keeps me up or wakes me up unless I fall asleep to the sound of golf on TV.
The good news is that I tried to go to work today.
The bad news is that my work computer has seen fit to die on me, a virus perhaps?
So I could do no work while at work. I came home where is it chilly and I do not control the thermostat, my arms are always cold as ice cubes, and I have a big stack of fleece blankets.
I know it is flammable, pills up easily, and does not breathe or temperature regulate but I still consider the inventor of the fluffy fleece blanket to be my own personal savior.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
the other day
A staunch republican, catholic, neo-con, true believer emailed me to ask whether I was in the "Old School Sisters United" pro-Hillary Camp or in the "Feel Good New Age-y Yes We Can" pro-Barack camp.
I did not reply because I have been in the throes of dying.
He then wrote me again to apologize for being flippant and to say that he honestly did want to know what I thought.
To which I replied, "I am in the 'Why didn't Senator Russ Feingold run for President?' camp."
He has not replied to my reply. And the more I think about it, the less I expect him to.
I did not reply because I have been in the throes of dying.
He then wrote me again to apologize for being flippant and to say that he honestly did want to know what I thought.
To which I replied, "I am in the 'Why didn't Senator Russ Feingold run for President?' camp."
He has not replied to my reply. And the more I think about it, the less I expect him to.
Friday, March 14, 2008
For the love of Bob Mould
The frequency with which I get to a show has severely lessened. But that does not lessen the degree to which it does a heart good.
Today, I went to see the Bob Mould Band. I will confess that I have not listened to that much Husker Du. But I am an enormous Sugar fan. I bought "File Under Easy Listening" and held on to it for years before falling in love with it. That album and "Copper Blue" were the soundtrack to months and months of grad school. They were catchy and crunchy and delicious. By the time I embraced the album, Sugar was no longer a band and I read that Bob Mould had put down the guitar and was making electronic music.
Which made me all kinds of sad but, y'know, "Copper Blue" came out in 1992 (the year I graduated from college) and "File Under Easy Listening" came out in 1994. People got to move on with their lives, right?
So you cannot imagine my delight to hear that Bob Mould had picked up the guitar again.
There I was. Surrounded by a crowd of mostly my age group with a smattering of youngsters. Someone made a joke that this was a crowd of people who couldn't wait to see an old gay man play the guitar. My reply to this would have to be "Hells yeah!"
He opened with a Sugar song. Yeee! Coming down from my fan girl place I will say that the guitar work was not what it was on the album and the vocals weren't either. But being there in the presence of these beloved songs and their creator was still a thrill. Despite the toll of time, the songs have good bones. They hold up through it all. And he holds up too.
He's a tall man with neatly trimmed beard, bald (shaved?) head. He is composed and somehow unassuming, all things considered. No crazy kicks or windmills. In contrast, his supercute bass player was a powder keg all over the stage.
My favorite songs from the night were not songs that I knew. I fell in love with them right there as he was singing them. They were more downtempo. They were the songs of a person who has lived. Songs that a grown up would write for a grown up to sing. The rasp of his voice weaving the line was vivid and intimate. His voice was not in top condition but he worked around whatever condition and issues he was having to create something musical and beautiful and real. It was rough. It was present. No effects, no gloss, just his voice. It was powerful. And I was awed to be there.
At the end a little mosh pit attempted to happen it consisted of tall older men who couldn't find enough people who wanted to crash back into them. One of them rapped me in the head with his arm. It was on accident, I'm sure. But I wanted to do my part so I shoved him and bumped my shoulder into a few of them, bracing myself to get knocked over. The pit did not happen. Perhaps they should have brought their kids to demonstrate that in these times and this part of the country if you were not ready to just crash into people you needed to start dancing out a circle to signal to others what was about to happen both as warning and invitation.
It was mostly a night to be a fan girl swathed in nostalgia and puppy wriggles. But there were moments of something really really fine and elevating.
It was as Tess Gallager said:
Today, I went to see the Bob Mould Band. I will confess that I have not listened to that much Husker Du. But I am an enormous Sugar fan. I bought "File Under Easy Listening" and held on to it for years before falling in love with it. That album and "Copper Blue" were the soundtrack to months and months of grad school. They were catchy and crunchy and delicious. By the time I embraced the album, Sugar was no longer a band and I read that Bob Mould had put down the guitar and was making electronic music.
Which made me all kinds of sad but, y'know, "Copper Blue" came out in 1992 (the year I graduated from college) and "File Under Easy Listening" came out in 1994. People got to move on with their lives, right?
So you cannot imagine my delight to hear that Bob Mould had picked up the guitar again.
There I was. Surrounded by a crowd of mostly my age group with a smattering of youngsters. Someone made a joke that this was a crowd of people who couldn't wait to see an old gay man play the guitar. My reply to this would have to be "Hells yeah!"
He opened with a Sugar song. Yeee! Coming down from my fan girl place I will say that the guitar work was not what it was on the album and the vocals weren't either. But being there in the presence of these beloved songs and their creator was still a thrill. Despite the toll of time, the songs have good bones. They hold up through it all. And he holds up too.
He's a tall man with neatly trimmed beard, bald (shaved?) head. He is composed and somehow unassuming, all things considered. No crazy kicks or windmills. In contrast, his supercute bass player was a powder keg all over the stage.
My favorite songs from the night were not songs that I knew. I fell in love with them right there as he was singing them. They were more downtempo. They were the songs of a person who has lived. Songs that a grown up would write for a grown up to sing. The rasp of his voice weaving the line was vivid and intimate. His voice was not in top condition but he worked around whatever condition and issues he was having to create something musical and beautiful and real. It was rough. It was present. No effects, no gloss, just his voice. It was powerful. And I was awed to be there.
At the end a little mosh pit attempted to happen it consisted of tall older men who couldn't find enough people who wanted to crash back into them. One of them rapped me in the head with his arm. It was on accident, I'm sure. But I wanted to do my part so I shoved him and bumped my shoulder into a few of them, bracing myself to get knocked over. The pit did not happen. Perhaps they should have brought their kids to demonstrate that in these times and this part of the country if you were not ready to just crash into people you needed to start dancing out a circle to signal to others what was about to happen both as warning and invitation.
It was mostly a night to be a fan girl swathed in nostalgia and puppy wriggles. But there were moments of something really really fine and elevating.
It was as Tess Gallager said:
You can sing sweet
and get the song sung
but to get to the third
dimension you have to sing it
rough, hurt the tune a little. Put
enough strength to it
that the notes slip. Then
something else happens. The song
gets large. (Gallagher, 1986)
Monday, March 10, 2008
Rates of Change
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." -Ferris Bueller's Day Off
The problem with having a favorite little place in New York is that you have no way of knowing how long it will be around. There are some establishments that appear to be here for the long haul. Bloomingdales, the Metropolitan Museum, the Statue of Liberty - I think they are pretty safe for now. It really depends on how desperately Manhattan needs more luxury condos and corporate office space.
But for the charming little places that give a neighborhood character, the ones that make you feel like "you are here" there are no such guarantees. Landlords change their minds. Developers gobble up the land from beneath you. Rents rise. Leases are not renewed.
So, Cafe Palacinka closes and the Moondance Diner does too. Sin-e closes for the second time, who knows where or if it will resurface? 7th Avenue Books and next door neighbor Park Slope Books close as well. And how can I forget to mention Sauce?
It doesn't just happen to the little places. It hits chain stores as well: the Barnes and Noble near Astor Place, the Hollywood Video store three blocks from me.
People take these changes in stride. What else is there to do? The world spins fast and ever faster. It's best that you stay in motion with it, loving what you love but always ready to embrace and seek the new.
The Poet Rumi has a line that I do not precisely recall but paraphrase in this way:
"Look long at the face of the one you love whether approaching or departing."
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
re-entry
This is week four since the bug first hit me. I feel a lot better which is great. But for whatever reason I also feel disoriented, as if the reset button was hit on my life and I am trying to piece together where and what I was before being laid low.
It reminds me of a short story I read in which a virus is going around with symptoms that are cold/flu-like but when people recover their personalities are significantly transformed. Dog lovers become pet averse. People give up careers they love and drop hobbies they used to be obsessed with in favor of different ones. They fall out of love with their partners and become estranged from their friends and family who don't understand what is going on. But they themselves don't realize that anything has changed. And as more and more people are felled by the virus, the healthy people start to feel more and more alienated.
Hmmmmm ... if you start to seeing different things here, you'll know why. The flu altered my brain.
It reminds me of a short story I read in which a virus is going around with symptoms that are cold/flu-like but when people recover their personalities are significantly transformed. Dog lovers become pet averse. People give up careers they love and drop hobbies they used to be obsessed with in favor of different ones. They fall out of love with their partners and become estranged from their friends and family who don't understand what is going on. But they themselves don't realize that anything has changed. And as more and more people are felled by the virus, the healthy people start to feel more and more alienated.
Hmmmmm ... if you start to seeing different things here, you'll know why. The flu altered my brain.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
What PBS told me last weekend
-The polar bear is not doing so well. According to the nature program bears apparently have a very long memory for what to eat, where to eat it and when it is available. And this knowledge is passed on from mother to cub. Grizzly bears know about salmon, and eating berries, and shellfish and squirrels because they learn from their moms. Polar bear moms and cubs take advantage of what they can in new environments, but so far, miss out on lots of food because they have no one to show them what to eat.
-The State of Texas now has a $50 lotto scratch game which is proving to be an extremely effective way to tap into the meager earnings of their poor and their people on welfare. It's working so well that they are talking about putting out a $100 lotto scratch game. Who needs taxes?
-Mining companies are lousy about safety regulations and protecting their workers and many of the mining deaths that we heard of and don't hear of didn't have to happen.
-We have a $9 trillion Federal debt. Maybe we should all get a second job.
-Over half of Americans don't believe in evolution.
-Freelancers get screwed out of small amounts of money. Client will refuse to pay figuring that the freelancer cannot afford the legal proceedings required to collect that $200.
-If you are a Freelancer in some states you can join the Freelancers Union and get Health, Dental, Disability, and Term Life Insurance.
-The State of Texas now has a $50 lotto scratch game which is proving to be an extremely effective way to tap into the meager earnings of their poor and their people on welfare. It's working so well that they are talking about putting out a $100 lotto scratch game. Who needs taxes?
-Mining companies are lousy about safety regulations and protecting their workers and many of the mining deaths that we heard of and don't hear of didn't have to happen.
-We have a $9 trillion Federal debt. Maybe we should all get a second job.
-Over half of Americans don't believe in evolution.
-Freelancers get screwed out of small amounts of money. Client will refuse to pay figuring that the freelancer cannot afford the legal proceedings required to collect that $200.
-If you are a Freelancer in some states you can join the Freelancers Union and get Health, Dental, Disability, and Term Life Insurance.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
a silent period punctuated by coughing
"I'm sick"
"I was home sick"
"I was so sick last week"
"I've been home sick for two weeks"
"Cough"
"Coff"
"Cough cough"
I have heard these things from people I know. The information was taken in but did not register significantly until now when I am sick myself. It has been a week.
I am certainly not the only one battling virus in the City, on the train earlier this week I observed the phenomenon of the sympathetic cough. Everyone wants to cough but is stifling it until one person lets out a big old hack which causes other people to let out a cough in seemingly timed sequence in response.
I tell myself that it would be so much worse had I not had my flu shot. Of course, if it were much worse, I might die. It is hard to keep in mind while in the midst of it that this will all pass that I will eventually regain the power of speech and song, that I will be able to taste things, and stop coughing, that I will feel better. I have been housebound, basically bedridden, and silent for four days which is not how I had hoped to spend this long weekend. I am not even muttering to myself because I physically can't.
I lay around and urgently urge my immune system to kick this thing already and wish that I had spent more time studying immunology so that I could individually cheer on each cell type and immune strategy. While my Macrophage and T-cells are going to bat for me, I'd like to be able to offer them my sincere thanks and give them much encouragement.
The flu is not going to help me lose any weight. I've been through a bag of licorice Twizzlers, a bag of parmesan flavored goldfish, two cans of chicken noodle soup, a two liter of ginger ale, several pots of chamomile tea, a pot of sleepytime (didn't work), and a pot of wild berry zinger, four cans of peaches, a bag of frozen raspberries, two plates of melted cheese, a tuna sandwich, a fried egg sandwich, a chicken sandwich, half a pot of badly made fettucine alfredo (not enough cheese), and some toast with apricot preserves. Clearly, we are feeding this fever. Yet, in the midst of all of this glorious consumption, I did not remember to buy myself a bottle of Nyquil.
Chicken noodle soup has undergone some kind of transformation since my youth. Used to be the pieces of chicken in the soup can were tiny, two little bitty cubes tossed in grudgingly to demonstrate that chickens were used on the making of the soup. Now there are three pieces that are the size of my thumb. So it would seem that sometimes new and improved is actually improved in the world of food science.
I've recently had a similar experience with a can of pork and beans. All through my youth I would stir the beans around looking for the pork to no avail. And recently I spied a big old piece of fat in a can of beans. Not as happy to see this as I thought I would be. It was not as good as the chicken thing.
In this downtime, besides tucking into my canned goods, I have caught up on episodes of "One Tree Hill" (Bad Nanny! Bad Bad Nanny!) and "Reaper" (Sam is so dreamy.). I have heard good things about "Ugly Betty" from a few friends so I watched a bunch of episodes. The one that I really liked was the one in which Betty and Henry go to see "Wicked" although the poisoned perfume one was good too. Gio is a delightful guy. But overall I was not knocked out.
I watched episodes of "Lipstick Jungle" and "Cashmere Mafia." Andrew McCarthy's character has been morphed into the kind of delightful imaginary man that will be used as a measuring stick by women to make real male humans miserable. Much in the same way Lloyd Dobbler made life much more difficult for men of a certain age in their youth. Each series is described as a dramedy. So far, "Lipstick Jungle" edges closer to Drama (soap opera) and "Cashmere Mafia" closer to Comedy (and "Sex in the City"). I watched some Sunday PBS programming which did what it always does, entertain, inform, and freak me out about the state of the world.
It's been hard to concentrate on reading or communicating. But I did read an online version of Eric S. Raymond's essay "The Cathedral and the Bazaar" which is an "ancient" account of how Raymond used the Linux / open source model to develop a mail program. I come to it as a latecomer as I do with so many things. It's a pretty interesting read. The roots of internet culture are curious indeed espousing ideas and values not generally in line with the mainstream. We shall see how much of it will survive the the efforts of Corporations to grab grasp and control the nets.
Did you know that 48 million internet users who have posted content, such as blogs or photos, to the Internet. That's you and me.
"I was home sick"
"I was so sick last week"
"I've been home sick for two weeks"
"Cough"
"Coff"
"Cough cough"
I have heard these things from people I know. The information was taken in but did not register significantly until now when I am sick myself. It has been a week.
I am certainly not the only one battling virus in the City, on the train earlier this week I observed the phenomenon of the sympathetic cough. Everyone wants to cough but is stifling it until one person lets out a big old hack which causes other people to let out a cough in seemingly timed sequence in response.
I tell myself that it would be so much worse had I not had my flu shot. Of course, if it were much worse, I might die. It is hard to keep in mind while in the midst of it that this will all pass that I will eventually regain the power of speech and song, that I will be able to taste things, and stop coughing, that I will feel better. I have been housebound, basically bedridden, and silent for four days which is not how I had hoped to spend this long weekend. I am not even muttering to myself because I physically can't.
I lay around and urgently urge my immune system to kick this thing already and wish that I had spent more time studying immunology so that I could individually cheer on each cell type and immune strategy. While my Macrophage and T-cells are going to bat for me, I'd like to be able to offer them my sincere thanks and give them much encouragement.
The flu is not going to help me lose any weight. I've been through a bag of licorice Twizzlers, a bag of parmesan flavored goldfish, two cans of chicken noodle soup, a two liter of ginger ale, several pots of chamomile tea, a pot of sleepytime (didn't work), and a pot of wild berry zinger, four cans of peaches, a bag of frozen raspberries, two plates of melted cheese, a tuna sandwich, a fried egg sandwich, a chicken sandwich, half a pot of badly made fettucine alfredo (not enough cheese), and some toast with apricot preserves. Clearly, we are feeding this fever. Yet, in the midst of all of this glorious consumption, I did not remember to buy myself a bottle of Nyquil.
Chicken noodle soup has undergone some kind of transformation since my youth. Used to be the pieces of chicken in the soup can were tiny, two little bitty cubes tossed in grudgingly to demonstrate that chickens were used on the making of the soup. Now there are three pieces that are the size of my thumb. So it would seem that sometimes new and improved is actually improved in the world of food science.
I've recently had a similar experience with a can of pork and beans. All through my youth I would stir the beans around looking for the pork to no avail. And recently I spied a big old piece of fat in a can of beans. Not as happy to see this as I thought I would be. It was not as good as the chicken thing.
In this downtime, besides tucking into my canned goods, I have caught up on episodes of "One Tree Hill" (Bad Nanny! Bad Bad Nanny!) and "Reaper" (Sam is so dreamy.). I have heard good things about "Ugly Betty" from a few friends so I watched a bunch of episodes. The one that I really liked was the one in which Betty and Henry go to see "Wicked" although the poisoned perfume one was good too. Gio is a delightful guy. But overall I was not knocked out.
I watched episodes of "Lipstick Jungle" and "Cashmere Mafia." Andrew McCarthy's character has been morphed into the kind of delightful imaginary man that will be used as a measuring stick by women to make real male humans miserable. Much in the same way Lloyd Dobbler made life much more difficult for men of a certain age in their youth. Each series is described as a dramedy. So far, "Lipstick Jungle" edges closer to Drama (soap opera) and "Cashmere Mafia" closer to Comedy (and "Sex in the City"). I watched some Sunday PBS programming which did what it always does, entertain, inform, and freak me out about the state of the world.
It's been hard to concentrate on reading or communicating. But I did read an online version of Eric S. Raymond's essay "The Cathedral and the Bazaar" which is an "ancient" account of how Raymond used the Linux / open source model to develop a mail program. I come to it as a latecomer as I do with so many things. It's a pretty interesting read. The roots of internet culture are curious indeed espousing ideas and values not generally in line with the mainstream. We shall see how much of it will survive the the efforts of Corporations to grab grasp and control the nets.
Did you know that 48 million internet users who have posted content, such as blogs or photos, to the Internet. That's you and me.
Friday, February 15, 2008
It was the D of the V, y'all
My two favorite holidays are Halloween and Thanksgiving. One holiday that requires costumes and candy and one in which you stuff yourself silly with your nearest and dearest.
My two least favorite holidays are New Years and Valentine's Day.
One year, I bought the man I loved the soundtrack from the movie, "The Piano" and he gave me a speech about how much he hated stupid holidays popularized by Hallmark that suggested that you only express your love on one day rather than all year around. Years later after we broke up, he admitted that this was a really stupid and shitty thing to say to your girlfriend.
The best Valentine's Day of my life was spent with BBFK. We were each dating some lame-o who didn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day so we went out together and saw a college production of "The Vagina Monologues." We did invite our sig o's along but they politely declined.
This evening was a super close second. I woke up sicker than sick. I was coughing up things, strange things, unspeakable things. On the plus, my UPS delivery came *yay!*, on the minus, the light bulb in my bedroom blew out, leaving me sitting in the dark *wah!*
And I thought I would not make it to the VD is Nasty festivities. I went as far to tell everyone this. But upon hearing that AN was also sick but planning to power through the party, I decided to do the same.
The staff had informed the lovely hostesses that they did not have Karoake in English and there was an ensuing panic that we would all be inventing words and melodies to accompany the greatest pop hits of China. CK practiced in the ways of the Jedi dispensed with this problem. The force is strong with that one.
The second point of concern was in that fact that getting a private room for Karaoke and food would require a $500 minimum. Being that the food was plentiful and inexpensive as was the booze, we kept ordering dish after dish,wine and more wine, and beers by the six pack. We each left with a booze party favor tucked in our bags, a bottle of Tsingtao or a bottle of wine. But after a ton of food, much booze, and six hours of Karaoke we all felt that we got our money's worth. The staff was certainly ready to send us on our way...
The rooms was gorgeous and mostly soundproof unless you were in the ladies room where one could hear everything except the karaoke backing tracks. And we almost had our chance to corrupt the youth when a little 7 year old boy pressed his face up to the glass door. A opened it and tried to coax him into our scary den of song, "sin" and sea cucumber but the boy hesitated and eventually ran into the sheltering arms of his concerned father.
Thankfully, they did not have the Depeche Mode song "Somebody" in their Karaoke library. So I was spared laughing while peeing and barfing trifecta. MomVee, we did sing "I can't fight this feeling any more" in your honor. And Radiohead's "Creep" was a surprisingly excellent Karaoke tune appealing to both genders.
I sang myself hoarse which brought back memories of a sweet sweet piece of hell from college we commonly referred to as Call Backs.
At the end of the night I even got a flower passed to me third hand from a cab driver who got it from a cab rider who got it during what must have been a not very good Valentine's date. After all, people on good dates don't give their flowers to cab drivers.
I hope this gift comes around to that person in the form of a best or second best Valentine's next year. C'mon Universe, what do you say?
And if even I can't speak for a month or die tomorrow, I wouldn't trade tonight for anything.
It was a good night. Better than a room full of flowers and chocolate covered candy hearts.
My two least favorite holidays are New Years and Valentine's Day.
One year, I bought the man I loved the soundtrack from the movie, "The Piano" and he gave me a speech about how much he hated stupid holidays popularized by Hallmark that suggested that you only express your love on one day rather than all year around. Years later after we broke up, he admitted that this was a really stupid and shitty thing to say to your girlfriend.
The best Valentine's Day of my life was spent with BBFK. We were each dating some lame-o who didn't want to do anything for Valentine's Day so we went out together and saw a college production of "The Vagina Monologues." We did invite our sig o's along but they politely declined.
This evening was a super close second. I woke up sicker than sick. I was coughing up things, strange things, unspeakable things. On the plus, my UPS delivery came *yay!*, on the minus, the light bulb in my bedroom blew out, leaving me sitting in the dark *wah!*
And I thought I would not make it to the VD is Nasty festivities. I went as far to tell everyone this. But upon hearing that AN was also sick but planning to power through the party, I decided to do the same.
The staff had informed the lovely hostesses that they did not have Karoake in English and there was an ensuing panic that we would all be inventing words and melodies to accompany the greatest pop hits of China. CK practiced in the ways of the Jedi dispensed with this problem. The force is strong with that one.
The second point of concern was in that fact that getting a private room for Karaoke and food would require a $500 minimum. Being that the food was plentiful and inexpensive as was the booze, we kept ordering dish after dish,wine and more wine, and beers by the six pack. We each left with a booze party favor tucked in our bags, a bottle of Tsingtao or a bottle of wine. But after a ton of food, much booze, and six hours of Karaoke we all felt that we got our money's worth. The staff was certainly ready to send us on our way...
The rooms was gorgeous and mostly soundproof unless you were in the ladies room where one could hear everything except the karaoke backing tracks. And we almost had our chance to corrupt the youth when a little 7 year old boy pressed his face up to the glass door. A opened it and tried to coax him into our scary den of song, "sin" and sea cucumber but the boy hesitated and eventually ran into the sheltering arms of his concerned father.
Thankfully, they did not have the Depeche Mode song "Somebody" in their Karaoke library. So I was spared laughing while peeing and barfing trifecta. MomVee, we did sing "I can't fight this feeling any more" in your honor. And Radiohead's "Creep" was a surprisingly excellent Karaoke tune appealing to both genders.
I sang myself hoarse which brought back memories of a sweet sweet piece of hell from college we commonly referred to as Call Backs.
At the end of the night I even got a flower passed to me third hand from a cab driver who got it from a cab rider who got it during what must have been a not very good Valentine's date. After all, people on good dates don't give their flowers to cab drivers.
I hope this gift comes around to that person in the form of a best or second best Valentine's next year. C'mon Universe, what do you say?
And if even I can't speak for a month or die tomorrow, I wouldn't trade tonight for anything.
It was a good night. Better than a room full of flowers and chocolate covered candy hearts.
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