Ello people, just got in to Belmont, Ma. I live in Gaithersburg MD for those of you who don't know, which is probably most of you since i just moved there. We rented a windstar for the trip. Its pretty sweet, but i wouldn't drive it everyday. I'm not a mini van type of person. The tire pressure sensor was pretty cool, along with the adjustable pedals. I hadn't used either before, so that was cool.

I'm in town till monday morning for a funeral. My great uncle Johnny, on my dads side just died. Heart disease. The funeral is set for Friday, but I'm not sure of the time nor place. Its not going to be to bad of an occasion, we all new it was coming, so did he, so its not like its a suprise. He spent a lot of time in the Bahamas during the winter, so it wasn't like he was cooped up or anything. It will also be good to see all of the Marcell family. Talk about your strange family, we NEVER see each other. Although, i guess thats not so strange.

But anyway. Saturday is dihydrogen monoxides Birth day, so you should say happy happy day to her. I plan on getting her a gift, which i will reveal after i give it to her.

My not so random noder of the day is Lucy-S.
She has a picture of a very pretty cat in her homenode, although i can't be quoted on that, its just the consensus at the moment. I wont nodevertise anything for her, that is not why i am writing this, i just have enjoyed the nodes of hers that i have read. Check her out! It will do you good.

So I'm trying to give up eating.

Not like in an anorexia nervosa way, though. I think they call it buji in some parts of China, when you no longer need to eat. Skepdic.com refers to it as breatharianism, or inedia. I guess sages, mystics and yogis do it.

I haven't eaten or drank (bar a piece of lemon the size of a seed, and a sip of water) since Tuesday night, which was about sixty hours ago.

The way it works is, I sustain myself by breath, through the pranayama. I sit in meditation for half an hour, when I'm having a "meal", and absorb energy from the aether.

I concentrate on my crown chakra while holding my breath, for about ten cycles. Then I visualise the energy coming down into me, filling my centre. Then I let it form an aura around me. After sitting for about half an hour or so, I don't feel hungry any more.

They say that Jesus went into the desert for forty days, not eating - this gave birth to the tradition of Lent. Coincident'ly, forty days is the traditional time, in yoga, of breaking a habit.

Anyways, I think I'll see if I can go without food for a week.

"Dr. Feeney is studying contusions in rats. What you'll be doing is surgery on the rats to bruise the brain. This surgery will be done without any painkiller, which even I don't like and I'm hardcore into neuroscience. You'll also be killing the rats so we can cut up their brains and look at them. It is really bloody. You'll cut along the stomach and through the ribcage and make several injections into the heart to kill the rat. After that, the rat will be decapitated and its brain will be removed, frozen, and cut into slices. It's really bloody. Does anybody in here have a problem with this sort of animal research?"

Nobody raised their hand, but I knew I had chosen the WRONG lab to sign up for. I'm sure that studying ways to recover function after brain injury is important, but if it involves drilling holes in rats, using a weight to damage their brain, injecting them with amphetamine, then later killing them, I don't want to be a part of it. So, I dropped the lab and signed up for Human Evolution instead. If I want to take a lab, I'll sign up for something less bloody like Human Learning + Memory or Social Psychology Lab.

I still feel ill after touring the laboratory facilities and hearing all the graphic descriptions... The "Feeny Contusion Apparatus" and whatever other bizarre equipment and procedures.... I guess I'd better not do Behavioral Neuroscience in grad school.

My mom is recovering very well from her pacemaker insertion. She will return to Florida in 2 days.

This has been at the same time stressful, good/bad, full of strange role reversals, even at times fun.

I am grateful that it happened while Mom was here on “vacation”. I’m glad I’m a nurse. I’m glad I recognized the problem in time. I’m glad we have medical care. I’m glad I still have my mom.

Hopkins was great, really good care there. Dr. Hugh Calkins is the man to see if you have cardiac arrhythmias.

I think this has needed to be done for some time now and mom was just feeling more and more fatigued but was just hiding it. My dear departed mother-in-law actually went blind from cataracts before she would admit she needed surgery. Why do people do that?

I wonder what I’ll be doing when I’m 76. What kind of nutty stuff will I put my kids through? The saying is “payback is hell”.

I’m currently in the procedure of making one of the worst decisions I’ve made in my entire life. The only thing I have to stave off insanity any longer is the knowledge that I’m not really making a decision. It’s just that the logical part of my brain can’t control the emotional part of my brain. In fact, it’s gotten to the point now that my logic and emotion controlling lobes are working almost completely against each other, as if they were arch rivals, fighting for the fate of humanity. Unfortunately- or fortunately, depending on outcomes- the emotional lobe of my brain is beginning to seep it’s dirty little notions into the logical portion of my brain. When things like that start to occur, my logical lobes seem to take these emotional ideas and run with them, as if they were deep seeded conspiracy theories.

It’s now more than ever when I can define the word “want” as “the state of not having her.” Because she’s not mine. And she never will be mine. Or maybe she will. Maybe the conflict is all in my mind. Maybe the only way to put it to rest is to let this war spill out onto paper, and let the punches be thrown, and let my mind go where it may. As if I could stop it if I wanted to. I want nothing more than to stop my mind from letting these thoughts creep in. That’s a lie. I want one thing more. I want her. I don’t want her in that physical, sweaty, down-and-dirty, touchy-feely want. This is a desire to be with her. And to have her with me. Not necessarily with me as in standing next to me or being everywhere I go, but having her with me, as a state of relationship, and commitment, and attachment. Not that we’re not already attached. But it’s not that kind of attached.

I want to stop the thoughts from entering my mind. I spend all my time trying not to think about it. Before it used to make me smile to think about her. That was before. That was before this got drawn out, and stale, and bitter in my mouth. Nothing about her is stale, and nothing about her is bitter. She is the one sweetest, most amazing, most awe-inspiring muse that I’ve ever laid eyes or hands or lips on. But it’s the situation that’s become stagnant and putrid. It’s a state I don’t want to be in anymore. But I can’t explain that to her. Because she won’t understand. She’ll understand, but she won’t want to understand. She’ll want to blame. Blame is the cause of all of life’s little problems. At least all the ones that involve her. Because if there’s blame to be placed, she’ll find it a good home. But that’s just me blaming her.

These thoughts are everywhere. There was a time, a few weeks ago, when I thought it was going to happen. It was really going to happen. I don’t mean “it” the way junior high kids mean “it” when they say “it.” I don’t mean the physical act of “doing it.” I mean “it” in that same relationship, commitment, attachment way that I mentioned before. When I say I thought “it” was going to happen, I don’t mean that I thought the two of us would lie down and make passionate, sweet, 1976 love. I mean that I thought the two of us were finally on the road to being an us, a we, a couple, a she & I. That was a few weeks ago. It seems like months. Maybe it was months. Weeks make up months, I still know that. I still know that weeks make up months, and days make up weeks, and hours make up days, and so on and so forth. I even know that months make up years and you get the idea. I still know that. I’m starting to think that those are the only kinds of things I still really know. I’m starting to feel I was so wrong, and now I’m so right. I knew so much so little time ago. Now I know so much different stuff.

That part of my brain that controls emotions. It’s a pretty crazy sonamabitch. I mean certifiably bright-shiny-new-hockey-helmet-in-the-back-of-the-little-yellow-van loony. I really believe that my emotional side could have thought up all the alternate shooter scenarios that the conspiracy theorists concocted about the JFK shooting. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that the emotional chunk of my gray matter is such a way gone daddy that he may have actually shot JFK himself, were it not for his apparent attachment to the rest of my brain/body. But that part of my noodle has come up with some good ones now. Because she doesn’t care anymore. That’s what he’s telling me. That’s what he’s whispering in my ear, in every breath I take, in every blink I blink, in every ounce of my body, that’s what he’s telling me. She doesn’t care anymore. Somedays it’s just that she’s starting to care less, but mostly now it’s full blown “she doesn’t care”. I messed up somehow. I wish I knew how. That’s what’s really beating me up around here. I wish I knew how. I wish I knew if only I knew why can’t I know does anyone know. Weeks or months or days ago we were so close to being a thing. Now she’s gone back. Back where she came from. I don’t mean “back where she came from” in the sense that she moved to her childhood town, and I of course am making no reference to the absurd notion that she could have in someway returned to her mother’s womb or father’s sperm. That would be ludicrous. I mean “she went back where she came from” in the sense that she returned to Him. And by “Him” I am in no way referenced God in Heaven or any other deity that may or may not exist in our plane of existence or any other. I when I reference “Him” I intend to refer to the young man who has “apparently” found some sort of way to keep her heart with him. How he’s done it is beyond my comprehension. It may be beyond human comprehension all together, although I don’t want to insinuate for even one instant that I am in any way far superior at grasping these situations than any other primate, human or otherwise. In fact, I personally feel that my understanding of these types of situations in general, my specific situation included, is more comparable to the comprehension levels of some of the lower primates. Maybe even invertebrates.

I wish I knew what he did. Although I spend most of my time thinking about her trying not to think about Him. I wish I knew what he did to get her back to Him. Right now right this very second and every second and every right now I’ve tried to think about going to work has been consumed by not wanting to go to work. And it’s because of her. It feels like I should be dedicating my time to her. Every second that I think of going to bed just keeps me up that much longer because the sooner I go to bed the sooner I have to get up and go to work and every second I spend at work I spend not with her. Not that she calls me back anyway. I don’t have a schedule anymore. I have her schedule. She has her schedule, and I have her schedule. I don’t have my own. I can’t have my own. She might get upset. I need to go to bed. But then I’ll have to go to work. Can’t buy her nice things if I don’t go to work. She’d get mad if I didn’t buy her nice things/take her nice places/call her pretty names. She’d get mad. Not that she doesn’t get mad anyway. But then she’d have a reason. It’s easier when she doesn’t have a reason. If I don’t go to work, I can spend the time with her. If I quit another job, there can be more time for her. I’ll just wait until she gets out of work. I have to have my phone on me, because if she calls me from her job I have to be able to talk to her. She can’t get my voice mail/answering machine/constant ring, because then I’m evil. Man-whore. Because then I’m a man-whore. But she can shut her phone off, and laugh at it in the morning. Every morning. Every morning when the night before she said she’d call me back. When she said she’d come and visit and hang out and watch cartoons with me. Last night she could go get ice cream, but couldn’t come see me. So she shut her phone off so I couldn’t call her. It was pretty smart of her. She’s so smart. I wish I were more like her. I wish I were more like her. And she wishes I was more like her. She loves herself. As much as she hates herself, she loves herself. She wants everyone to love her. Why shouldn’t she? I wish I loved myself the way everyone seems to love her. My parents don’t love her. Good for them. No traps for them. That just leaves me.

Traps are for bears, not for boys. Why am I in this one? Why can’t I act anymore? All I do is question. I never questioned before. Before life went forward, always forward. Progression, education. Life doesn’t move forward anymore. Life sits in one place and thinks. Thinking is okay. No it’s not. Not anymore. Thinking is destroying me. Thinking is stopping my life. It’s stopping the progression. It’s stopping the education. Thinking is an abomination on my existence. She’s not. She’s a ray of hope. She’s THE ray of hope. The flame from one single candle can be used to light many, and yet, that first candle’s flame still burns as hot/bright. I’ve met the candle. She is the candle. She can spread happiness just through the way she walks, and the way she talks, and the way she bosses me around and the way she ignores me, and the way she makes herself feel better. As long as she feels good, we all can feel good, can’t we? Isn’t that how it works now? We’re all that much better off for having known her. Thank you so much, Ms. Candle. I have met the candle.

It is my own fault you know. It is my fault for having feelings, and sharing them. Why would anyone do something like that? I wish someone could tell me. I know days and weeks and months and etc., but I don’t know the answer to that. Not one bit. Why did I have to have feelings? It’s my fault, because I have feelings. She told me so. It’s all my fault. That makes it so much easier. As long as it’s not her fault. The blame the blame the blame the blame. “Blame” is a funny word. Ha ha funny. Say it a lot. Out loud. Blameblameblame. It’s funny. I’m funny. She’s really funny. Funny and pretty and special and don’t ANYONE FORGET IT. She doesn’t like it if you don’t tell her how special she is. She’s a fragile unique snowflake, and she needs attention. Attention is the sun to her magnolia. “Magnolia.” I'm Sorry. I’m so sorry.

my mother said to make it rain today. so i did.

Strange days these have been
These days.
The tigress, abused and
Thinks she knows
What she wants
Is all wrong.
But I know she's right.
I went with Lou
To the Dark Side of the Moon
And ended up in Strawberry Fields alone.
Forever. For the night.
From drunken chastity to
Hormonal sobriety
In less than 24.
Good for me.
Or bad.
It's been strange days these days.

didn't it end up exactly how you'd expected?

Today I signed the lease on my new apartment. We can't move in until tomorrow, because the floor shampooers were there, but we did crack a couple of cold ones with the carpet guys before heading back to our parent's houses to finish packing. I'm nowhere near ready, but I'm excited to (finally!!!!) be getting back out of their hair and their house. I'm looking forward to all of it.

I got up at 5:20 A.M. and went for a short run. It was still dark, sunrise isn't until 6:37 A.M. today. I was hoping to see what was left of the full moon but the skies were overcast. The streets were still wet from last night's rain and it felt very close. The temperature was 72 degrees (fahrenheit) with 100% humidity and a dew point of 70 degrees. I saw my neighbor walking his dog and I saw the paper carrier's car way up the street. We get our paper long before we get up most days. I could hear the low roar of the occational air conditioner and an occational car would pass. It's amazing how many people are already up and on their way at 5:30 in the morning. Most days I'm still asleep at that time. I wondered about how much heat those AC units were giving off.

We've had a very warm summer, makes me wonder about global warming. Pittsburgh is about 90 miles to the south of Oil City, PA where I live and they average about 8 to 10 days over 90 degrees in the summer. This year they've had over 20. Yesterday was no exception. I'm almost done with my first glass of water. I think I sweated out at least that much. I only ran three miles. I wore my new running shoes for the second time. They're still a little stiff and tight but not bad for right out of the box. I bought my son a pair too. He's running on the cross country team at school. We picked them up with a few other things while doing some back to school shopping last week-end. Next week-end is Labor Day Weekend. Summer's almost gone. Time to squeeze in those last days of fun in the sun.

Our president, George W. Bush is on vacation, I guess you could call it a working vacation because I still see him running around making public appearances. I haven't heard him talking about the economy, and the Dow went back over 9000 yesterday. We're going camping for the 3rd time this summer, with the scout troop this week-end. Our primary objective is to hike ten miles. Some of the scouts need this as part of their rank advancement requirements. I have to leave right after work which means I have to pack the car before I go to work. I'll get the perishables on my way to the school where we meet. It is 6:40 A.M (10:40 utc) and the sun has come up, behind those clouds. The street light is still on across the street though. A new day has begun.

The Honorable President George W. Bush made a cameo appearance here in Portland, Oregon yesterday, after discussing his intent to increase logging here in the great tree state in an attempt to reduce the fires here. But that's not why he came to Portland, the city his father called Little Beirut due to the actions of protestors. No, Bush came here to raise money for the campaign of the local Republican Senator, Gordon Smith. For just the low sum of $25,000 one could get their photo taken with Mr. Bush, his mickey mouse hands and all. He helped to raise two million dollars for his good friend, who he called also an ecological-minded politician. I have no idea how much it is estimated his visit cost the city of Portland, what with the local police force is huge numbers, Blackhawk helicopters flying in between the buildings, and the shutting down of many businesses throughout downtown.

I work at an employment law firm downtown. I watched as the day progressivly turned... weird. Today is the 23rd of August. Yesterday, I watched people get shot with rubber bullets, and apparently (though I swore I heard and saw tear gas) much beating with batons and pepper spray insued. It was crazy. The protestors were in large number, and I felt a great amount of pride in this city.

I wanted only to make the situation more extreme. I wanted to practice William S. Burroughs' theories in the Electronic Revolution. Create a feedback loop to bring these people to a further action. I wanted to set up loudspeakers and blast godspeed you black emperor!'s world police and friendly fire, I wanted to make the city SCREAM! But I did not. I just motivated my self to find my girlfriend, and make sure she was okay, like a good domesticated primate. Which is fine, I guess. Almost disappointed in my self though.

For this attack oriented on the viable, I wanted everything to build and build! But, I avoid apocolypse; buy hope and soothed my self with Sigur Ros, and coffee--made my head dizzy with cigarettes. And now, I sit at work again, knowing the he, member of the Black Iron Prison resides in a hotel room, just blocks away... Back to my little police state, and my life of quiet desperation.

A friend called.
"He died !", he said.
I knew who he was talking about. A cook. The cook of a chinese restaurant in Hamburg, Germany.
The man who, with his brother serving the guests, would never create anything but the perfect meal. Now - don't misunderstand me - I am no talking about Sweet and Sour Pork nor any other dish so popular with Europeans. I am talking Duck Soup with Ginger, Chicken baked in Salt, Northern Style Dumplings, Lobster in Pepper Sauce. Those - and many more incredible dishes.

This man died today.

You would call a week in advance. "I want to come on Saturday, with six people."
No details, as you would leave the menu selection to him.
You would arrive at six - and if you were early, leave by midnight. Then, you would wait for an opportunity to visit again. And again.
About 25 years ago, his brother introduced me to Dim Sum. Working for a different restaurant, of course. Some years ago, his brother would join him in Hamburg and they would open Chung Quong. Never too popular with the locals, too unknown for the gastro scene people. Hard times for them, but they managed.

Why do I mourn a cook ?

Because he was more than that. He was a teacher in chinese culture, a medical advisor, in a way a friend.

I do not know his name, but I miss him.

His brother will not re-open the restaurant.

Chasing the Siren Song - Day 3

I visited Girlface and MartianBob in the afternoon in Iowa City. I had lunch and dinner courtesy of Girlface, and she got to hang out with her friends from downtown. Organic food and beer is everywhere, but so are the sorority girls.

I've never seen a college town so integrated with the populace before, let alone any college town in the United States.

As a warning to all bus travelers - get a coat. The air conditioning sometimes have the tendency to go full blast, and it's pretty much ravaging my throat. I nearly coughed my lungs out!

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