Its winter: crystal's open for bizness, people are coughing in the streets, fireplaces roaring etc etc. Best time ever to cuddle and read. So grab nice paperback and get crackalackin. Because seriously, who wants to cuddle with a kindle?
Graceling – Read by Lindsey Wilson in a period of
physical(and maybe emotional) brokenness. Oxycodone optional.
It was tweeny. Magical powers and big mountains. Angsty love
only consummated post-blindness. Castles, swords, and really awesome fight
scenes galore. But there were no vampires, so it sucked.
Beekeepers Apprentice - LW
Read it mo’fo. Cause it is kickass!! That’s.five.sentences.
Skippy Dies - SR
What do time travel, drugs, donuts and Catholic priests have in common? An integral role in Paul Murray's brilliantly dark novel of adolescent misadventure. Employing a rich tapestry of narrators- from students, to criminals, to parents, to teachers- Murray weaves a tale which successfully encapsulates the complexities and angst of adolescence. And, yes, the title character, Skippy, does indeed die.
The Lonely Polygamist - Father/daughter book/beer club part I
You know that Oscar winning movie you fell asleep watching that was really really "good"? It's a book like that. A seriously unenthralling, often unbelievable, completely unique character study. Life lessons learned: don't play with bombs, don't get chewing gum stuck in your hair and don't fall for spanish speaking women. Total gyp.
In the shelter of overcast Seattle awesomeness, James Green and John Lilly came to town, bringing with them Samurai Swords. All the better to hijack my phone, fb, house and couch with? It would seem so.
Now they are gone, after traumatizing hipster eardrums with Karaoke (may the video never be released) and provoking security in the Bank of America building. They took fliers from the wannabe Daughters of the American Revolution passing out promotional paper on the streetz. We stalked Molly Taylor, who brought some mad housewife into the picture. Drank with Lindsey Wilson, who created a veritable sea of wine on the table. Made some figgy pudding? Not so tasty, no. And played some pinball.
As of late, went midweek backpacking up to the eight-mile creek area. Tried to do some fishing, but ran into technical difficulties - jellies do not make for appropriate freshwater bait I reckon. Drank wine out of Jiffy jars and a childhood TMNT cup. Forgot forks? A sampling of snapshots from the adventure.
The perpetual debate! This is far more serious than the political struggle that is republicans vs democrats. Scarier than alien vs predator. If you ever read Indian in the Cupboard or wanted to be a Pony Express rider when you grew up, this dilemma most likely plagued your wee little kiddie mind like it did mine.
A little background to how it played out in my mind back in the 90s. Grant me the excuse of preschool naivete for the offensiveness of some of the list.
Cowboys: trouble makers, go camping a lot, wear big hats and plaid shirts (the original hipsters?), carry cap guns, shoot first ask questions later, ride white horses through idyllic fields of grass and never get shot, say y'all a lot
Indians: POCAHONTAS! eat berries, walk in the woods without leaving a trace, carve cool stuff in wood, teepees and longhouses, headdresses and beaded thangs, the utltimate foragers/tree climbers
Anyways, while i did want to gallop a little pony with panniers of mail through Pauite territory, I think I'll always be that little kid playing in the woods with a feather in my hair. Or maybe a not so little kid, building a self-destructive/ingenious board game with my friends.
designing/wineing with sean rohan
Went up to the cabin for some woods wandering in good company. Found some mushrooms. Played with pooh-sticks - a few first timers in the bunch. Drank a lot of wine. Created a board game, features include a point system, art (flowers, "sea of wine"), mazes, table descisions, etc. etc. Found a feather!
Life in the technodrome is great. Especially because NOW WE HAVE INTERNETS!! Yep! Now knowledge bombs and 150% mark-ups can be verified via the veritable wikipedia! Family, family dinner with the boys. Paella props go to Ollie and Dutch. BJ's lurking just outside the frame.
Lately I've been keeping a dream journal. Its not going well. Here is my latest entry.
"I dreamed it was the med room and someone was like its daylight savings so its a couple hours ahead, and i said it doesn't work like that. I think it was heather from work. Its hard to remember"
I have run into a few kinks with this project. Namely, I keep dreaming that I am writing in my dream journal. Then when I do actually write, I can only remember snippets, and my handwriting is pretty much illegible.
On the other hand my dreams have become way more crazy/vivid/awesome.
we were at a big building with elevators. and they went up and down. and i was trying to escape from something.or at least there was something scary going down. i had the power of stealth, but the sensation of biking too close to the curb, when you get a jitter down your spine. once i had to pretend like i was dead. it was creepy. i had the cap of something in my hand, and as i lay there, in a gown? i was trying to keep my arms crossed and let them not see the rise and fall of my chest, and the little red bike tube cap in my hand. it was like there was a plot to destroy a royal family, and i was in it. each of these elevators lead to a circular shaped room, like the one on the main floor in berchets. except that the elevators were slow and unpredictable and i was trying to escape. there were stairs and i couldn't figure it out. one time the elevators opened onto nothing.then i was down on ground level and it was a big convention center building. except not - you know, different in the way dream things are. i was running all around it. once i ran the stairs in the bottom basement. i think this is because i hit the P1 button in an elevator to escape.
Weird dream. I dream about work a lot, and the hospital. I also have been seeing more of the people from my life in dreams, instead of strangers. I like dreaming. I like daydreaming. I daydream when I run. Its awesome. Its cool because when I'm running its like there's a soundtrack to my dream, and the music usually affects where my mind goes, and in what direction, before I lose it. I like new music because it takes me new places when I run. I'll run longer. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always longer.
New day. New couch. New speakers. New shirt. New music. Feeling good.
Spent yesterday running around Seattle doing nothing, doing everything. Highlights include a feature in a granola ad? Seattle, the mostest naturalest city? Greenlake high-dive minus the diving board. Swing dancing in the living room. Exploring John Marshall High School - abandoned school for the miscreants of Seattle. Finding an original copy of the 1967 classic, The Man Who Walked Through Time: The Story of the First Trip Afoot Through the Grand Canyon. Meeting up with my friend Craig to buy cheap electronic equipment. Frequenting the fruit stand. Blasts from the past? Secret notepad notes that make my day. Figuring out my agenda with a little help from friendly neighborhood corespondents. Silk-screening.
New Simba in Shades t-shirt. Shout out to the Pride Rock Crew. Thanks boys.
Figured out that my computer has a photoshooting setting thang where it takes sets of photos over a period of time. There is a name for this. I expect it can be found on wikipedia. Anyways. Took a series of pretty funny photos hanging out in the living room. I'll spare you the creeper eye ones we took.
Now, for a little art appreciation. Please critique "Mary". She graces the mantle above the fireplace. I think it might be time her to get a feature exhibit! In the basement!
It's true that I've been relatively stationary for the past month. But you are stationary on a plane, when in reality you are moving a bazillion miles an hour, or however fast planes fly. Regardless, you feel like you are still as you zip along. Right now I am sitting still, on the couch at Ian's house. But time is moving by. As fast as time goes. Which is not really a number. So here I am traveling right along with time. Thus justifying the revitalization of my travel blog? I know I know, it's a stretch.
I am about to travel again! So soon, yes yes. From here, in bromantical fremont, to a new home in the Tacoma Dome! A long and treacherous 3.6 mile journey. Perhaps as I pass under I-5 I will mutter the words: the way is through the mountains. Probably I will forget. Word on the street is that the house will be renamed the King Dome. Or the Astro Dome. Maybe even ___: The Champagne of Houses. The task of renaming our home has been left up to Ollie, Dutch and BJ. No word yet on their progress. But we did clear up a few misunderstandings as to the presentation of attractive features (as documented in legal proceedings). I'm excited to live close to the fruit stand, the ravine and 3rd place. My feelings are yet to be decided on our neighbors to the north, what with their late night wheelings and dealings.
Lately I've been thinking a lot about how difficult it is to present who you really are. It's so easy to change in the presence of others. Sometimes it happens almost unconsciously, as we simply become who we are expected to be. I realize this sounds like some sort of play on Kurt Vonnegut. Whoosh. Blame it on my residency, which makes me feel like I'm still in school. Except now we play with the code cart during recess.
Shout out to Sean Rohan for being my introspective soundboard.
Recently I learned that you can have a heart rhythm known as a "Wandering Atrial Pacemaker". WAP WAP WAP!! As awesome as this acronym is, the abnormality is asymptomatic. Rendering its kickass name a tad gratuitous. Kids, if the doctor tells you your heart is WAPing, don't freak out. It's like your heart is hiccuping. (harmless side effect of that cheering charm you did last week?)
A little Scandinavian synthpop to creep out my readers. Happy tuesday!
There a lot of people floating around the solo traveler circuit who have been in orbit for quite some time. From time to time they like to discuss what they're going to do first when they get home. The topic is a bit overused, considering that most of the answers fall to the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy. Aside from see Harry Potter (3D? I think so.), I am looking forward to breakfast. They don't eat it here. Probably because their cereal options include corn flakes and corn flakes. So sitting in the airport, I am thinking about cereal. And very happy that I realized ten minutes ago that I was waiting at the gate that corresponded to my seat number, as opposed to the one where the plane going to Seattle waited. Disaster averted.
Wine tasting!!
My last few days were pretty awesome. It poured rain. I tasted some wine. Played around on a farm. Went to a chocolate factory. Explored a creepy abandoned village. Got back to Rome. Decided that staying out all night is the best way to handle a 4am taxi to the airport. Waited in the longest baggage check ever.
RAIN!!
The last few days its been raining. Then yesterday, it poured. BUCKETS!! I hid in an irish pub. This turned out to be a fantastic idea, shared by many other people. This is the best photo seemed capable of taking. Doesn't do the downpour justice really.
OK FAST FORWARD!!!! Right now I am sitting on lindsey’s front stoop, crankier than any cranky I have been yet this trip, after having torn her house apart for my “prominently placed” car keys. Yes its true. I am home. I also want to sleep now. In my own bed.
Yesterday someone asked me if I was “eat pray loving it”. For those of you who are not familiar, “EAT, PRAY, LOVE” is a book/lackluster movie starring Julia Roberts. It is the epic journey of one woman trying to find herself by travelling to Italy, india and Bangladesh. Not to give the game away, but she finds out how to eat, pray and love. Anyways, I’m left wondering if I look lost. Or if I am suddenly lacking a lower lip. Eat, pray, love is a nice idea. But you can’t go out looking to find yourself.Finding yourself is like hunting horcruxes. Completely accidental, and usually involving magic (that’s luck to all you muggle minions out there). I’m not looking to find anything more than third George Martin book.
Travel recap: Spent another day in the Cinque Terre swimming in the sea and reading. Went to Florence. Got my culture on with a series of museums and monuments. Experienced a total downpour, reminiscent of monsoon season. Had some quality heart to hearts with strangers. Missed another train.
Headed to a farm tomorrow. Love farms. Natural habitat of my spirit animal!
Yesterday evening I wrote something of the following in my journal. No shower 3 days. No place to stay. 9pm. Have some bread? 24 hours later I have an apt for nothing (including unlimted showers), tasty food, sunburn etc etc.
Its very pretty here, and I spent the better part of nine hours hiking/beaching/day drinking with a girlfrom Vancouver.Now I am feeling the effects of this.
Life is good. Going for a mosey.
Also, there is a train strike for the next 24 hours starting in about 34 minutes. Who cares.
Went up to Alpe Scilar/Catinaccio for what my dad promised to be the best mountains Italy has to offer. Didn't disappoint. Could have sworn that LOTR characters were going to pop out from behind boulders. The altitude and mileage were a challenge, but I came out on the otherside in one piece. Due to my train schedule on day one I had to run/speedwalk to my first hut. For the first bit I was encouraged to turn around. The second bit I saw no peoples. But made it up in time for dinner and sunset! Day two was long. Longer than the punishment tromp. Met some more nice italians, shared some more wine, got some more blisters. Day three, wake to snow. Run away home.
You can kind of see the Rifugio I stayed at in the background, and the rock that I used to prop my camera up on in the foreground! Self-timer success!
Before my gnarly descent/ascent to passo prinipe. Not really sure why I'm smiling here.
Yes. A skeeter did bite my eyelid. It looks fantastic thank you, I know. A little parting gift from Venice.
To recap my travels: Saw some more historical sites and monuments. Spent another night in Rome making trouble and barely making my morning train to Venice. Spent a night on top of a mountain in Cortina with my long lost childhood friendsie Melissa Cafferey. Took a particularly precarious cable car to some snow and an abyss of fog. Met Marco, who invited us to Padua.Scored some free grappa samples. Arrived back in Venice for Redentore. Drank magical lemon drank. Fell asleep during the longest firework show of my short life thus far. Woke up late. Wandered the city. Happened upon haplessly lost Australians. Almost went to Fusina with them. Woke up in time for train to Bolzina. Fell asleep at train station. Missed train. Got a new ticket. Fell asleep again. Got new ticket. Drank three shots of espresso. Currently waiting for train..
Yes. Forgetful and sleepy I am. But missed trains means misadventures of the best sort. Plans as of right now is a three day, two night hut-to-hut tromp through more of the Dolomites.After that maybe Cinque Terra. It is a long a train ride, but I am told by Australians that it is possible to sleep under a bridge when accommodationhas not been arranged and cannot be found.
Travelling alone, there is no one to get crankypants at but myself. I have however, left several crushed cans and other signs of violence at dead ends and movie theaters without subtitles.
Shout out to my fluent tour guide in Venice Melissa. Without you I would be in a canal. Or Fusina.
Shout out to George Martin. Your writing is kickass.
It was tweeny. Magical powers and big mountains. Angsty love only consummated post-blindness. Castles, swords, and really awesome fight scenes galore. But there were no vampires, so it sucked.
