Sunday, May 30, 2004

Kiss and Make Up

Listening to Sleater-Kinney

The popular vote is in favor of reconciliation. I keep getting the same feedback from every sounding board, and I am just telling stories not asking for advice. Its a crime they say, shocking stubborn streak they say, get over it. It may be time, considering that eye-gouging rage is a wicked weed, so too should be its fruits. Right? All about my friend Jenni. What should I do?

--------------------

Hung out with the biologist. We ate pasta and calculated the speed of light, talked about first grade and first impressions. I ate a jalapeno pepper and he didnt feel obliged to be macho and do the same. I think that is so sexy. Macho makes me roll my eyes.

Friday, May 28, 2004

Survival of the Fittest

This day, that started with rain and hail even, yes hail, has become clear and sunny...much like my mind. I finished with a scholarship application that has been looming for over two months. In its wake, a vacuum. The dissonance that damn thing created by being un-done is totally disproportionate to the size of the actual task. I cant believe how little I actually have left to do.

On the way to drop the packet off I saw a truck, big you betcha, with a bumper sticker that said HEALTH FOOD SUCKS.
What a jackass. Why would you want to advertise that as your primary concern when you are a total unknown quantity to the world in every other way. I mean, we all run around putting out these signifiers right? We do it all the time to varying degrees. Its our primary language, its our most effective way of communicating with the world....body language and its logical extentions... our clothing, our cars, houses, jobs, lovers... to some degree we chose these things to let the rest of the world know just how cool we are right? It lessens with age, teenagers don't exist without their signifiers. At least I didn't think that I did.

I wonder about people who put up bumper stickers that say stuff like:
I DO WHAT EVER THE LITTLE VOICES TELL ME TO DO
LET ME SHOP AND NOBODY GETS HURT (actually my friends put this one on my car and I didn't discover it for a week)
GIRLS RULE, BOYS DROOL
Its just not funny. Have you no pride? Have you no class?

I have always wanted to make a bumper sticker that says GUNS ARE FOR PUSSIES. Anything you want to get done with a gun you should be tough enough to do with your bare hands. That's what I say.

I am sick of cars anyway, and sick of cars as ego. I mean, there is something inherently Darwinian about driving and its just a buncha baloney. I don't want any part of it. Its like an exercise in brinkmanship,totally not democratic. It evokes some subconscious panic of extinction. People behave like if I pass you I am the superior specimen and my progeny shall graze forever in the green, green fields. The emotions that driving cues up are like the appendix or tailbone.
I am trying to evolve beyond that and driving, it arouses the last vestiges of my anger years. Anger is a precision instrument and probably the most misused in the range of human emotions. Anger is for survival, Period. Anger is for reminding your central nervous system that you have a right to fight for your life. Any other application is like using an UZI to kill an annoying housefly.


Its raining again.

Dinner Shift

I only had an hour off between shifts, and that includes driving time. I came home, wrote a couple lines tried to take a close up picture of my jade plant sprouts and was late getting back for the dinner shift. Its bad enough working a twelve hour split shift, its much worse when you get a rush fifteen minutes before close...

But I still dragged my self to the gym and ran four miles, imagined myself breaking down in tears at the 23rd mile marker during a marathon and that kept me going. Its the mental stamina that I need. There is a point about two miles from the end of a race where my heart breaks and I want to start crying cause you have given it everything you got and you have nothing left to give, nothing, but you have to keep giving whatever it is you don't have for two more miles that stretch on into eternity. Two miles becomes longer then you ever imagined, longer then you can comprehend.

And after all I am sitting back eating really spicy Pa Nang curry and feeling not so bad about the world...

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Lunch Shift




It is raining. My god, is it raining. There are only two customers in the restaurant, two women eating Pad Thai and talking about their Masters Degrees. I am the other end of the dining room staring out at the rain, absently folding dinner napkins. I feel like a raindrop, quivering with surface tension, free falling...

ARE YA DAFT?

All my layout work somehow managed to make it onto the zip disk after all. The end is in sight! I got all excited and printed out the whole zine from Pagemaker, then cut-and-paste the whole project into a mock-up for Xeroxing. Duh. So I went out to Kinko's and spent $33 on copies for this thing, which, admittedly I suspected even at the time, was coming along to a suspiciously smooth conclusion... and guess what? I didn't proofread it. Who does that? Who goes out and spends a wad of cash on an unproven product? Apparently I do. Why didn't I just read it first? Why did I have to make THIRTY DAMN COPIES? Do I know that many people?

I like to think of myself as pragmatic and thoughtful but its a damn lie.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004

Bad People

I was sitting with a group of girls half-in, half-out of the moment and sort of chewing on my nails and nodding. One of the girls mentioned that she was still living at home, and shrugged apologetically, kind of embarrassed. I don't think she should feel bad...
I said, THAT'S NICE, I BET THEY LOVE HAVING YOU AROUND STILL. She perked up and nodded. I KNOW THAT MY DAD WOULD PACK ME UP AND MOVE ME HOME IN A MINUTE IF HE COULD.
She nodded again. Admittedly, this girl, she is kind of a goofy, dorky girl but she is nice enough, ya know? And this other chick looks at us and says LIVE AT HOME? JEEESUS, HOW OLD ARE YOU GUYS ANYWAY? I was enraged. I just wanted to slap, slap, slap, open hand, back hand, open hand, back hand...YOU FUCKING BITCH. She flounced out of the room before I was done focusing my death stare on her. AND GOOD THING TOO. Conversation resumes, I begin chipping the glittery nail polish off my other hand.

I spent a good few days reading about tyrants, petty and paramount. Vlad the Impaler, for example is just a total jerk. Even before he died German Catholic refugee monks were spreading rumors about him all over Europe. Just think... at the time there were hundreds of small principalities and kingdoms, viceroys and emperors and governors and priests ruling the shifting borders of Europe. But it is him we remember. Vlad's legend is hugely disproportionate to his actual role. I mean, he only ruled for six years, from 1456-62, and briefly again in '68, and here we are FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY EIGHT YEARS LATER and he is still infamous, still scaring the pants off little kids and adults alike. He is said to have killed over 40,000 people in a land that was populated by only about a half a million. Higher estimates put that number closer to 100,000. A little calculating suggests that he was murdering 18-45 people per day, depending on which estimate you go with. His favorite method was, of course, impaling. He loved to suspend folks (just about anybody really), on a stake from their heiney through their mouth. Care was taken to prepare the stake with a nicely rounded end and lubricated with oils to ensure a prolonged death. He was a mean, mean old bastard and someone finally offed him though the circumstances are murky. In the 1930's, headless but well dressed remains were found outside the main entrance of a monastery. Was it him? Probably.

I only hope that history serves the memory of George W. Bush the same due acknowledgement. I hope our children and grandchildren and the ones who come after that shudder at his legacy.

Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Study Me

I am a real live Biology classroom. I am studying joy and exhaustion, and that chemical cocktail that makes me feel anticipation. I jog and my muscles contract and my cappilaries expand, but when I run I unfurl into uncontrolled bliss and its not biology any more but theology. I am a university.


Moxie and Mr. Hanky

Moxie has taken a liking to a Mr. Hanky doll that Xavier left over here. He carries it everywhere. He pounces on my feet when they are under the covers, he climbs on the tub wall when I am showering and attacks my shadow through the curtain, he gallops up and down the hallway, slides across the wood floor and chirps like an ewok.

Dan is coming back to town tomorrow for two weeks. We have tickets to see Yo La Tengo .

Maybe Its Not Meant To Be...

I failed another ASL test tonight but not cause I was daydreaming about birds nesting in my hair. I STUDIED THE WRONG GOD DAMNED CHAPTERS. I am being sabotaged.

The end of the term is closing in on me, AGAIN, and I don't have anything done, AGAIN. I feel like burning my books and making war paint from the ashes.

And I have lists like you wouldn't believe. Lists to organize my lists, and books with lists and lists of books, and lists going up my arm and composting into lint in every pocket of every jean and jacket that I own.

But it was pretty today, oh man oh man. I spent almost three hours in a cloistered classroom working on layout. When it was time to come up for air I tried to save everything on a zip disc and Pagemaker got all cranky and stopped responding. Everything was lost.

And I just didn't care after all.

Monday, May 24, 2004

Unreal

Listening to Idaho: Three Sheets to the Wind

My bones are tired, my head is heavy and my feet are sore. But I am up cause I need to nail something down about how I feel right now besides acknowledging the blisters on my feet. What is it? I feel alternatively alien and positively human. I cant figure it out!

Sunday, May 23, 2004

Letter Never Sent

Not sure when it was written...

Dear John,
I am feeling rather defenseless. I am not used to it but its giving me an opportunity to exercise GRACE <-----The Most underrated of all states of existance.

Grace and Humility and the Reality ------> That being: Get the fuck used to it already.

So, anyhow. I am waiting for 6:30 when my accelerated sign class begins - accelerated like a foot on the pedal.
Day Two - Still gaining speed.

I feel like pricking people with thorns. I don't feel very nice right now. Suddenly the light seems unnatural and I cannot imagine any premeditation in the movements of these people moving left to right, right to left across my field of vision. Not because they couldn't explain to me where they are going but because there is actually no inherent value in the what and why. In anything. Nothing matters. If we are all going to die, what does it matter if we all do? Its days - weeks like these that are best spent napping. I feel hungry when I am full, full when I am hungry - Pretty is the New Ugly.

But this much I know - If I hold my breath and sit real still it will pass. Knowing that I still hold my breath through tunnels and wish on dandelions. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Magnetism


Mad as a wet hen.

I am livid, I mean furious, really really mad. I have spent three hours on the phone with my phone company trying to call Mexico and they are incapable of doing a damn thing to connect my call. I wont mention any names but their initials are V.e.r.i.z.o.n. and I hate them. I have a lust for the sound of breaking glass.

I went out last night with the biologist who just baffles me. I mean, I like him but I see him about twice a month and just feel like I am left scratching my head in his wake. I am never sure if I want to answer the phone when he calls or delete him entirely. I bet he confuses himself. We talked hurriedly on big topics and watched a video that we didn't really watch at all. And today he is going back to the coast, to all the places that I left and he tells me about winding trails and rotting cabins using their secret names I thought only I knew. I draw maps in the air and tell him where the salmon spawn and of course he already knows. I am all excited and dismayed at the same time.

Saturday, May 22, 2004

B.U.R.N.O.U.T.

I guess I don't write a lot about what is going on in my real life. Last week I picked up my road bike from the shop all shiny and sexy and slick as hell! I got a tune up and a whole new drive train with integrated shifters and a third chain ring. It was a financial investment subsidized by both my Mother and Father.

THANKS GUYS! LOVE YA!

But worth it. I am registered for two rides this summer and will really appreciate the lower gears. The first is a one day ride at the end of June, a 98 mile ride that climbs 7000 feet and tours three mountain prairie lakes. I have about one month left to train. The second ride is in July, 200 miles in two days.

It has been a tiring week. I went to class Monday, babysat Xavier on Tuesday and used him as an excuse to miss the rest of the week. We went to the park and hid from monsters behind trees and rolled down hills, made daisy chains and went higher on the swings then we ever had before. When Katrina came to pick him up I sent her home with the seed starts which are starting to grow up my window sill. Last Sunday we tilled and weeded and weeded and tilled till our arms fell off. The ground is ready.

My Political Science professor from last year wrote me an incredible letter of recommendation for the scholarship committee in which he says, among other things, that "Asia is a person of high moral character. She is highly thought of by those who know her and is respected for both her intellect and insight into interpersonal relationships. She is a very good student and a fine human being." HOLY CRAP, WHAT A COMPLIMENT! He shook my hand and wished me well. I read the letter as I walked back to my car and got all misty eyed behind my cool-guy sunglasses.

I am nice, true, but if you knew what goes through my mind... And yes, it bothers me. Then again, I am probably one of the most transparent people I know. I mean, every thought that passes through my mind passes over my face too. That is no joke. I am trying to purify my mind. They say that you have the face you deserve by the time you are forty, and I don't want to be forty and still looking pissed about annoying customers that I poured beer for over a decade earlier.

Anyway, I am reaching burnout with my running. Feeling frustrated and static in my training I decided to push the envelope and add ten miles to my running schedule instead of the usual two miles every other week. So now I am struggling with a huge emotional resistance to the idea of lacing up those shoes, in addition to feeling a faint achey-ness in my Achilles tendon. I ran six miles on the treadmill twice this week which doesn't help matters. Treadmills are great for controlled training but death for the spirit. But there is this one thing that makes it worth it. If you run long and hard on a treadmill, when you step off the first thirty seconds afterwards feels like walking on air. Its my favorite feeling, a dream feeling, cause you are floating and high as a kite on endorphins.
Tonight after four hours of bargaining and cajoling myself I finally went out the door at dusk with my camera and ran sprints down the main drag taking pictures in the dark. My hair tie fell out and OH MY GOD it felt so good my hair all heavy with sweat in the wind and it felt like someone was messaging my scalp. I took a bunch of pictures of a house on fire with Christmas lights, and the park, and steeples and chainlink fences. I got inspired right out of my resistance.


A Million Christmas Lights in May

Oh boy! I got a postcard with my Bloomsday results. I in my age category I finished in the top 200 out of 1880, and overall came in 5198th out of 39,694. Not bad.

I spent the rest of the day making fridge magnets from old political propaganda posters I found on the internet and reading up on Vlad the Impaler and the Mayan calendar and the Shroud of Turin... I know so little about the world...

This morning I went to meet up with a girl from my ASL class at a coffee shop. She told me that the whole class failed the test and the instructor went over the next two chapters hoping we would do better. There is another test on Monday. After she left I sat there waiving my hands in the air over my text book with mediocre success. It occurs to me that when I read I mentally convert everything into a visual image or I get hopelessly lost in the abstraction of language. For example...

The court also ruled that people with disabilities have the right to sue in federal court to enforce their Section 504 rights. Furthermore, said the court, a person with a disability does not have to exhaust administrative remedies before bringing a lawsuit.

In order for me to understand this I have to picture the whole scenario, like a comic book drawing. It makes dry material that does not flow like descriptive prose very tedious for me to read. Otherwise I just don't understand it. I am a pretty slow reader for how voracious my appetite is.

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

One Last Word On the Subject

There are other cycles too, like ultradian and infradian cycles. Ultradian cycles are shorter, occurring within a day and are therefore easily observable. Examples of ultradian cycles would be like, REM sleep, or how your nostrils take turns breathing (they really do!). Stuff like that. Infradian cycles are harder to observe because they can span weeks, or months or years. Beyond annual cycles, I don't think many have been tracked; think of all the unexpected variables!

But humankind has had some good inklings of longer infradian cycles. The development of Astrology as a discipline would be one, even if it is inexact. My friend Leslie used to garden by the phases of the moon. She swears that weeds are easier to pull at certain times of the month. Ultimately though, it was less work to tug a little harder then to track lunar cycles so she went back to gardening like the rest of us.

I kinda suspect infradian cycles in my own life, and have for a long time had a half-cocked theory about slipping between the molecules...for lack of better semantics, this was how I always understood this sort of, um, intuitive theory. What I mean is, there are these incredibly opportune times for certain endeavors, like quitting a bad habit or instituting major changes when, for some reason, like the particularly obstinate tap-root, they just suddenly want to let go of their grip of the Earth. And if you can learn how to track these cycles, or even know what the hell to track I think that one could be incredibly successful, especially if they learned to apply the basic principles to all aspects of their lives.

I am not trying to get all New Age Hippy or anything like that, but from my own experience this is what I know. I have tried to quit smoking when the timing was just not right and my heart raced and my nerve endings blossomed like old shoelaces and my pores opened and closed and sweated ice water and I just couldn't seem to breath at all till I got dizzy with the sound of my blood rushing...it was awful. And the time that I did finally quit it was like I never had started at all. It wasn't internal or external, I know that. It is like, well, like slipping between raindrops. I cant really explain it. But I dig this whole Chronobiology concept cause it sorta resonates.

Actually, a quick search on infradian rhythms indicates that I am way out of my depth here. There is a lot to know. I guess I should make it clear right now that I am only ever about 90% right, ON A GOOD DAY. I don't intend to be taken as gospel, cause, man, that is just too much pressure. There are some things that I know, and everything else I am trying to assimilate into my GESTALT understanding of the universe around me which is VERY LARGE INDEED.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

How I Flunked My American Sign Language Test

I just got my ASL test scores back... I got 48 out of 81. I was in the library studying before the test and started day dreaming with the thunder and lightening, and when I got to class the whole second half of the test covered the last page of the chapter that I neglected to read cause I was thinking about how I wanted to be a tree and wishing birds would land on me when the barometric pressure got too high for soaring and DAMN IT I AM REALLY MAD AT MYSELF. REALLY REALLY MAD, cause I am right on track to get a D in this class for reasons unknown, cause I cant pay attention and cause the test is one degree into another dimension, and the text is like 20 years old and the Deaf people on the video sign really fast and wear distracting 80's clothes and if I had only read that last page.....

The Sum of Our Parts

After I came home and posted my coffee shop writings I got around to reading up on superstitions. In a matter of minutes I found myself waist deep in the Spanish Inquisition, and incredibly sad about it. THE INQUISITION HURTS MY FEELINGS.

It got me thinking about walking through the Bitterroot Mountains and how picking morel mushrooms represents the culmination of every bit of knowledge belonging to humankind. I go home and eat my mushrooms with rosemary and don't die. I don't die cause someone already did. I don't die cause someone decided to see if their starving body could be sustained with funny looking fungus growing on a rotting log. And I don't get lost either, and I don't get many blisters. I swear loudly when I get poked with a thorn and I don't end up strapped to the Catherine Wheel.


St. Catherine of Alexandria

All those things I do because of every human who came before me. It is with incredible humility that I consider this. If you have never seen me that way before it is just sort of a blank look...

We all know how powerfully full of meaning language is, little words spinning around like charged ions that fuse into a nuclear bombs. Have you stopped to think about how women were burned at the stake because they knew that the bark of a willow tree contained pain relieving properties? And the animals that were vivisected, strapped down and bled to death when we were excitedly discovering that willow bark also had anti-coagulant properties? And now when you have a wicked hangover you just pop a couple aspirin. See that? Can you see it?

On a timeline of human history there is an actual tick-mark where as a species it dawned on us that we die. Ever since then each successive child comes into this inheritance at about the age of seven, though it may not sink in for another decade or two.

I am not railing against injustice. I am not seeking redress or validating a movement. I am just acknowledging that I am a product of both Galileo Galilei and the Holocaust, Pop Culture and superstition, Malocchio, Eugenics, Genetics....they say Ergot of Rye led to the madness of the Dark Ages, indeed that this fungus is also responsible for some of the geographical boundaries of Europe today. Think of it! Half the population of Europe running around higher then your parents at a Dead Show, with absolutely no sense of humor about it. Think about how much that warped the Collective Unconscious...


St. Anthony--Patron Saint of Ergotism


I hold a mushroom and sense the history of mankind.

Monday, May 17, 2004

[From Latin] SINISTER: On the Left; Unlucky; Inauspicious; Disastrous; Injurious; Evil




I sat there like a wilting plant over my coffee, writing - engrossed - obsessed - inspired. He leaned over me and said

"sinister"

THAT'S LATIN FOR LEFT HANDED. I STUDIED LATIN. He is dirty and drunk in coveralls. He looks like he only studied wrenches, a man destined to live by his hands.

Everyone hates left-handers. Or did. Modern day southpaws get to drink out of coffee cups that say Only left-handed people are in their right mind. But it wasn't always so neat-o. In India your right hand is pure, for eating and touching. The left, for with to wipe your heinie, is filthy and shameful. In Salem, the left handed were practitioners of witchcraft and suffered terrible fates. In West Virginia their knuckles were rapped sharply with rulers. Mine were. And now the Romans too? I don't know what to say to this. Was there ever anyone who wasn't picked on?

OR REALLY...HUH? I neither encourage or discourage him.
YEAH, THEY WERE AFRAID OF US.
HUH! I say again, down on my paper over which my left hand is poised is suicide, loss.
I NEVER KNEW THAT.
I'M A LEFTY TOO SEE! WELL, ANYWAY, GUESS I'LL STOP BUGGING YOU.
By now several other people have indicated that they too are left handed though a couple of them are drinking with their right hand. On the page a life passes...has passed...on. Upon returning I realize the distraction is welcome. I have no idea where to go from here, or how. I can't do this. Write.

-----------------------------------

I'm sitting in the library - 53 beats per minute and there is thunder and lightening and I might be up to 63 beats now cause I am getting excited. Up here on the second floor is a bay of floor-to-ceiling windows and I am there, between the heavens and the earth. The trees move in the wind like one body, not like a collection of leaves. That's what I want to do too!! That's what I have been trying to do all along! Under that big black cloud I'm getting all trembly and my breath is shallow. 78 heartbeats per minute.

Not Biorhythms

The study of circadian rhythms is called CHRONOBIOLOGY. It is an interdisciplinary field within the field of Biology. Chronobiologists are not propagating the theory of Biorhythms, which is a silly new-age pseudoscience that greatly oversimplifies the complex and diverse forces that create and destroy us. Okay! So, there were a couple neat-o things that I wanted to say about Chronobiology if I can find my musings on the subject. I ran 10.82 miles yesterday and believe me, that is a lot of time for musing, even including time given to whining about chaffing. I got chaffed yesterday too. Man did I get chaffed, Ouch.

I wish I could remember how it all went...

Thursday, May 13, 2004

Two things...



First... Apparently the Earth is receiving 10-15% less sunshine then it did 50 years ago. HOLY SHIT! THIS SCARES THE BEJEZZUS OUTTA ME. I mean, I don't know about you but I like my sunshine and rather fancy myself to be an amateur photosynthesizer. Has anyone else heard of this trend? Its called Global Dimming. To think...the very source of life on earth. I cant even wrap my brain around this.

Meanwhile, the gas prices in my already dim state are going up about .10$ a day and OPEC has apparently not raised the barrel price for oil. The industry's feeble response is THIS IS DUE TO ENVIRONMENTAL REGULATIONS. Maybe its just a perfect example of what happens when the industry is owned by a smaller and smaller group of people, the Exxon/Mobil merger for example. I don't know ...*shrug*...

The thing is, I don't mind paying exhorbant prices for gas. In fact I have this whole dissertation laid out in my head about market price vs true cost and how Americans could stand to learn a lesson or two about the real world...like if we factored in the price of building restoration due to acid rain corrosion (anyone remember acid rain) when we purchase our manufactured goods, and if we factored in the cost of operating the SOA when we price our cheap bananas for the market...and maybe we should not forget the cost in human life either.
But WOAH, this is getting too inclusive to take on tonight....

What I mean is, I don't mind paying a lot for gas. I really don't, if it was for Environmental Regulations. I don't like being gouged by the richest people on earth for a little more of my damn pocket change. I think the money should go into the public coffers to start cleaning up this mess we live in...is this reversible? Does anyone remember eight grade science when we were taught that we owe our lives to plankton. Oh the humble little plankton! Will they get enough sun, so deep in the sea?

-------------------------------------------

The second thing is, by comparison inconsequential. In the last few months I have initiated a few changes that while relatively small, seem to be having a huge impact on my life. (And no, I am not talking about getting a job.) Mostly I have made changes regarding my marathon training, less salt, less sugar, no alcohol, vitamins, protein powder, nuts and fruits, no caffeine, gallons and gallons and gallons of water...

For the most part I have had no problems implementing these changes though I drink about 58 pints of Thai Iced Coffee at work, and I don't feel like reading labels for sugar and sodium.

But the thing is, my sleep patterns have just gone crazy. I have always been a frenetic night owl with a romanticized crush on the morning serenity that I imagined but rarely experience. And I have always felt kinda sleazy about sleeping in, I mean, the cultural meme is that if you want to be respected if you want to be influential, if you want to make lots of money and make it to the top of the heap in this dog eat dog world and eat lots of worms, and if you wanna fool me then BY GOD YOU BETTER BE UP BEFORE THE CRACK OF DAWN. And, well, what about those of us who are rolling over and scratching their belly at 11am? Are we just fated to withered obscurity, bad teeth, blankets nailed over the windows and the late shift at 7-11?

Anyway, one of my New Years Resolutions was to get out of bed at 9am every morning...and I was doing pretty good until recently. Now I just cant go to sleep before 3am, sometimes later. I have always been this way, but this is unbreakable. I am not tired, no matter what I have done that day. Run ten miles? Work eight hours? Drive barren landscape for 7 hours in the hot sun? Nope. And then,in the morning? Forget about getting up. I am asleep like a log. Like I am made of stone, and a stone monument to slumber. Deep. I mean deep, core of the Earth deep. I looked up sleeping disorder on the web and this is what I came up with.

Your Circadian Rhythms Tell You Its Bedtime
This is not so for a sleep disorder called delayed sleep phase syndrome (DSPS) This syndrome is sometimes caused by a circadian rhythm abnormality. In this case, the sufferer is on a rhythm where his or her body wants to rest from about 4 am until noon instead of the hours of sleep familiar to most people.....the patient simultaneously indulges his or her late night sleep routine and yields to the wake routine of society.


There are a few treatments...sit under bright light for a half hour every morning at 8am, go to sleep later and later chasing sleep around the clock till you wake up one day and its morning!, vitamin B-12 and Melatonin. And, good Sleep Hygiene is recommended. What is Sleep Hygiene? I am glad you asked. It seems some of the things that I have changed have, in effect, improved my Sleep Hygiene which is why I am suddenly entrenched so successfully in my natural "circadian (about a day) rhythm."


BUT WAIT!
If you have, in effect, just made yourself a more effective sleeper by improving your habits, then what is the actual cause of such devious inclinations? I am glad you asked!

All living things are carbon-based and have the capacity for self-replication, other then that there is not a whole lot we have in common with our brethren the blind eels of the deep-sea, or the tropical bot-fly, or any of the trillions of odd life forms on earth. In the last several decades we have also become increasingly aware of and interested in the fact that all living things from the simplest plant to most neurotic late-night writer possess an innate rhythmicity. The sleep-wake cycle is natural behavior and superficially appears to be associated with the solar day. However, we must consider the full complexity and richness of the living tides.

Back in 1954 Dr. Frank Brown, Morrison Professor of Biology at Northwestern University packed up a bunch of oysters in an airtight box and relocated them from the coast of Conneticut to Illinois. He wanted to know a thing or two about their 'constants'. For example, oysters open their shells to feed as the tide comes in, covering them with water, and close them as the tide recedes. A simple observation with an obvious explanation, much like my own sleep cycle...the depth of water determined the opening and closing.

But this was not so! Oh no! These sapient little mollusks continued to open and close with the Conneticut tide in far off Illinois. Even cooler though, after a few weeks they began to change their rhythm. With a few calculations Dr. Brown concluded that these Conneticut oysters were opening on an Illinois tidal schedule, as if Illinois had a seacoast. How did they figure that out????? Dr. Brown speculated that the cyclic pattern of every living thing is linked to complex and pervasive rhythms in the earth's geophysical environment, magnetic field, whatever.

They did more experiments too, like put tidal snails in boxes with exits facing magnetic south and the snails still knew where they were, but when they used magnets that equaled the magnetic field at that test site they could make the snails spin in the opposite direction.

Basically, all living things experience the same cyclic fluctuations, linked to the same variations in the earth's normal electromagnetic field. The CRUX OF THE MATTER may be why the hell my biorhythms, according to some quick late-night calculations, place me right at home about a thousand miles off the shore of Japan. A circadian clock is most useful when it is set to local time. Maybe my real disorder isn't DSPS but something to do with my synchronization mechanism. Maybe my soul is in Atlantis.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Sheesh, I don't know if I am all fired up or exhausted. Coming soon! Cheap drama and tawdry gossip and all that that implies!

Music: Air: Elle a Du Shell(all in keeping with my new treatment plan for respectable sleeping hours)

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...

President Bush, Bad Fruits versus Good Fruits
"This spiritual fruit is so rotten you can smell the sulfur and brimstone straight from the Pit of Hell."



Monday, May 10, 2004

Good

Everyone should read this article. Despite the fact that it was written over a year ago it is highly topical on the salient political scandal of the day.

Vote

I know, I know...I should be in bed, or at least reading a textbook or something.
I still got smoldering fire in my belly about my Bush dream the other night. Registering voters on Saturday we canvassed a Republican without any pants on (he was barely hiding his junk behind the door) who looked just like a Peter Bagge drawing (I swear he did). Twenty minutes later I was scribbling survey notes and as he was leaving his driveway he shoved a twenty dollar bill in my hand BUY YOURSELF A FEW DRINKS because he appreciated what we were doing. I am just filled with the milk of human kindness, really I am, cause this stuff just keeps happening. I mean, I dont even want this dudes $20 bucks...I was so astonished I just stood there saying OH MY GOSH, THANK YOU SO MUCH, BUT...I...THATS SO NICE... THANK YOU and he pealed away in his rusted out pickup. But, see, the most unexpected people are the ones just knocking my socks off.
And I feel really protective cause deep down Americans are really good people and I cant stand it. I just cant stand it. The whole world thinks were a bunch of assholes...and we are kinda... but, awe heck, sometimes I go and get all sentamental.

You wont be seeing these pictures on the news. I cant tell you hom much this angers me. Empty Rhetoric about abstract principals like Freedom and Liberty, BOLD FACED LIES and then refusing to acknowledge the dead, denying the public its grief....

Sunday, May 09, 2004

Waking Up

I slept in this morning. Good Lordy! I have to start going to bed at a reasonable time. Yesterday was Katrina's birthday. I took her out to dinner and dropped her off at the bar up the street. At 2:30am I got the designated driver call and went out to shuttle people home. After hanging out with her for a bit, and convincing her it wasnt a good idea to drop in on the new neighbors, I came home and stayed up for another hour. I feel like my day is wasted.

Some of my seeds are starting to come up, a few beans mostly.

Comic Book Pages

I feel like live animation...mysterious light sources and incongruous color schemes. I just go crazy to drive through the inner city freeway, bridges on overpasses under overpasses and swooping lanes like carnival rides and that eerie orange glow...
especially when everyone elses pain is making me feel so spaced out.

Saturday, May 08, 2004

If You Love Something Set It Free....

Moxie is back! I was walking out to my car and I saw him cruising down the sidewalk. I think he couldnt find his way. He did double time on his food dish, rubbing my ankles between bites, and slayed a catnip mouse. I tried to stretch out my two very neglected legs but he crawled up and slept heartily on my belly, so I lay there on my back staring at the ceiling trying to drink soda water from the prone postion without bothering him. He purred, I purred.

Later he sharpened his claws on my yoga mat.

Friday, May 07, 2004

Tom-Kah Gives Me Weird Dreams

I have been listening to Air America a lot lately. I had awful dreams this morning about a Bush victory on election day and was filled with such utter despair that I woke up in tears. Following the election all the schools in the country were closed for lack of funds and we watched on the news all the kids file out of classrooms on the last day of public school.

**I also dreamed that Katrina had a full size horse in her house that nudged me violently for affection and that I was moving into a new apartment where I could walk around inside the walls. In fact there was so much room back in there I decided to set up a painting studio and writing office.**

A.n.y.w.a.y... I feel pretty resigned to our fate. EXTINCTION. Procreation is not recommended if you can comprehend the level of impoverishment, pain and misery that you are offering to your children, but you can atone by leaving them your Nevada beach front property when you die. We have been given a death sentence and have not been listening...its time to start accepting it folks. However, maybe there is a tiny part of me that still hopes we can pull it off, AND THE LYNCHPIN IS WHO WINS THE WHITE HOUSE THIS NOVEMBER. That said, I guess its time to step up to the plate. Shortly after I woke up, a Moveon.org volunteer called to remind me of the voter registration drive this Saturday. Do I have enough faith in the forces of good? Well, I'm more like a force of Not-Evil.

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It is a dark gray day. My cat has been gone for 36 hours. I am sad.

Incidentally, I just dug up an editorial by Arundhati Roy for a friend and I think everyone should read it. She is brilliant. I love her.

Music: Songs: Ohia

Mysterious Ailments of The Heart

I am kinda fed up with myself, ready to throw my hands up in the air. Getting on task is an incredibly difficult for me, like herding cats. FINE BY ME THEN.

My friend C*** seems to be sorta caving in on himself. We sat on the sidewalk and I stared at trees and imagined grabbing peoples tushes as they walked by. He makes vague, yet provocative comments with flat affect that sink in like abstract art. I HAVE NO CONTEXT FOR THIS, I HAVE NO GAUGE FOR SEVERITY... I made him tea and cooked him bicycle shaped pasta with homemade pesto. He ate one set of handlebars and a rear wheel and pushed his plate aside. I dont know what to do but offer empty platitudes.

Tuesday, May 04, 2004

Metalanguage and Content Acquisition

Language is crucial to the acquisition and development of background knowledge, i.e. context.
Literacy is a misunderstood concept...for reading it may entail three types: functional, cultural and critical.

"ASL is the best language model that is within the biological reach of Deaf children in this country. It is the language s/he will be able to learn naturally, easily, appropriately and fully. Because ASL is a natural language it is rule-governed, predictable and generative; hence it can be used for full communication and as a means for acquiring new knowledge, including the knowledge of other languages, specifically English (a language whose written form involves the representation of sounds the Deaf child may have never heard before)."

When are we going to learn that oppressing any group of people, whether they are Deaf (language minority), gay (sexual minority), black (racial minority), female (power minority), Jewish (religious minority), etc.... will I.N.V.A.R.I.A.B.L.Y. result in uncomfortable, long standing, and difficult divisions in community at best and violent revolt at worst. NO GROUP WILL ACCEPT OPPRESSION ONCE THEY HAVE IDENTIFIED IT IN THEIR MIDST, EVER. At best you can achieve a sustained, uneasy truce, more a lack of visible conflict then a true peace. That this truism is not understood at large, and in practice is, to me, shocking evidence of widespread CRITICAL ILLITERACY.

UNDERSTAND THIS: GAY PEOPLE WILL BE MARRIED ALONG SIDE STRAIGHT PEOPLE, WOMEN WILL VOTE AND SLAVES WILL BE FREED. There is no alternative, they will not rest, they will win over your children if they can not win you over. How will history align you?

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I have a broad, all-encompassing discussion taking place in my brain integrating these various sentiments and assertions that I dont have the time to address at the moment. I just wanted to make a notation.

Monday, May 03, 2004

Lilac Bloomsday 2004

My brother, who is getting sent to Iraq later this year, lives in Missoula with his highschool sweetheart. We spent two days visiting, went hiking in the Bitterrroots, found morel mushrooms, ate tacos and cruised around town on foot. On Sunday we drove over to Spokane to my Aunts house, had a big rowdy dinner on the deck and ran the Bloomsday 12K in the morning.

LOOK AT HOW MANY PEOPLE RAN THIS RACE!! OMG! This is just one of the streets. The race took up the parallel blocks as well. By the time I got to the start line the timers were calling out two minutes. For the first few miles it was a frustrating matter of weaving in and out of the tight knit of slower runners, often requiring short bursts of speed and fancy footwork which I am sure I paid for later. Climbing Doomsday hill I could feel every charge I led earlier in the run. It was also humid as hell running in the fog of sweat and exhalations of tens of thousands of people. How did this race get so big???

I wasn't in the door two minutes when my neighbor came and told me M- partied under her window till six in the morning. Moxie shredded two whole rolls of toilet paper in the hallway cause his mice were stuck under the couch. Home sweet home.

Now that I am back its time to get on task. Katrina has moved into her new house and the plans for the garden are kicking into phase two. The seeds are getting started here while she settles in and the plot of land gets readied for the rototiller. We have carrots, bell peppers, pickling cukes, lemon cukes, pumpkins, kohl rabi, zucchini, rosemary, sugar peas, salad greens, jalapenos, bush beans, spinach, tomatoes and herbs. The herbs that I have already started on my tiny porch are staying here, along with the one tomato plant, my cedar and chestnut trees, alyssum pot and fushia. There is hardly enough room to stand out there.

Spell checker suggests that I should replace jalapenos with Calvinists. God forbid.

Sunday, May 02, 2004

Road Trip

I just got back from Spokane a few hours ago...too many hours on the road... drove circles around the Tri-Cities trying to find a highway south. If you look at the area on a map the roads make this loop that I drove round like a f*ckin' Mobius Strip. I was a little addled to begin with having only chewing gum to keeping me awake in the hot car after a seven and a half mile run first thing in the morning... My brain is like poached eggs right now. I put over 1200 miles on my car in the last few days.

Maybe I should be in bed, asleep. For six hours in the car I wanted to write about how much I love s-curves and family history and internal dialogue with characters that I am inventing. So I tried to scribble on my atlas and drive at the same time. Its not a recommended approach to writing.
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WHY I LOVE THE ROAD ATLAS.
Maps represent sheer potential - all the things a person can do. They can scream, climb a rock face, aspire to sainthood or fall through the ice. Build a fence, chisel rock, or taste test canned soups. They can not send word of their well being, they can not send it from jails or crazyhouses or morgues. I want to write about all of it.

"He was a tightrope walker from Maine who built retaining walls in the summer season. The previous autumn he had pulverized the bones in his left hand setting stones"

And my neighbor would read that and tell me that there's no such job like that. -YOU DON'T JUST GO AROUND BUILDING RETAINING WALLS - ITS PART OF GENERAL CONTRACTING.

And a tightrope walker would tell me -WELL FIRST OF ALL, THERE'S NO WAY HE'D BE BUILDING RETAINING WALLS IN THE SUMMER - THAT'S THE BIG PERFORMING SEASON. THE OFF SEASON IS IN THE WINTER.

-NOPE, CONCRETE DON'T SET RIGHT IN THE WINTER, AND YOU'D HAVE TO BE A REAL IDIOT TO CRUSH YOUR HAND LIKE THAT, HOW YOU DESCRIBED. JUST DOESN'T HAPPEN.

And I'd throw up my hands and say WELL WHAT DO I KNOW? They can't all be like me, drinking grapefruit soda and writing novels in the backs of receipts. If they were all like me my stories would be about photosynthesis, me photosynthesizing and thinking about how the sun is really just a nuclear explosion in slow motion, wondering if light can be lonely.

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