Author: cdwan

Shortly after I got home from Detroit, we received a citation from the city for failing to obtain the registration that I had just renewed. In that citation was the following line:

“A fine paid before this hearing date shall be reduced by 10% and a fine paid after this date shall be increased by 10%. There is no reduction or increase in fees for early or late payment.”

I love this city.

Also: I called the city’s “tree removal” department at the number listed at several places on their web page. The number has been disconnected.

Also: I called to find out what time the inspection might occur on Thursday. That number rang and rang. I called the front desk and verified that I was calling the correct number.

Me: “Well it just rang and rang”
Them: “Yeah, they cut out pretty early. You should probably try in the morning.”
Me: “Don’t they have an answering machine or anything?”
Them: “No, I don’t think so. Did you have any further questions for me sir?”
Me: “No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

I forgot one amusing anecdote from this weekend: We had a cherry wine blowout.

NRG, redmed, and I were sitting in the living room of the apartment after a tour, in which I showed off the mighty collection of fermented products that I’m carrying around at this point. Suddenly, we heard a solid THUD, followed by a WOOOOOSH, followed by “glug glug glug.”

The cats rocketed past, to hide … lest it was somehow their fault. “The guilty flee when no man pursues,” as my father in law says.

It turned out that the “thunk” was a cork hitting the opposite wall of the laundry room.

The “woosh” was about half a bottle of wine absolutely soaking the entire opposite wall, including both ceiling and floor, both the washer and the dryer, and filling (filling!) the cat’s drinking bowl.

The “glug glug” was aftermath.

The whole wall, I tell you. The room is perhaps 10′ by 10′. This was, as Darth Vader said of young Luke’s skills in ‘Empire,’ “Most impressive.”

I have apparently gained the ability to summon spirits which cannot be contained by a cork. I need more technology.

fanw suggested this crazy idea where you ask people about the interests that they list in their profile. I, for one, had forgotten that I list “interests” in my profile … so it sounded like a fun game. If you want to play, leave a comment. Here are the ones she asked about:

under this here cut …

Essentially, this is my life:

Long-time-friend NRG is in town, so we’ve had many activities this weekend.

First, we all went to the Boston Vegetarian Food Festival. Totally free, and lots of fun stuff. I got a bumper sticker that says “There is no mad tofu disease.” redmed got a shirt that says “Eat like you give a damn.”

Also, lots of not so fun stuff … including belligerent animal rights activists. It’s a hard balance for me these days. I find that I frequently agree with some protest or consciousness raising … but I don’t have the mental energy to get angry or even to engage with the righteously irate. This puts me, superficially, in the same group as “people they really need to shock.” Then they wind up trying to piss me off in order to get a reaction.

I’ve decided that tending to my own state of mind is an important and valid pursuit. I’ve realized that the horror available in the world is well beyond my ability to consume it. I can only stare into the void (be it animal cruelty, people cruelty, or the general state of nature being beyond our control) for so long. Every time I do, I have to sit and think about the goodness and light for a while, lest I go insane. This means that sometimes, I’ll simply walk away from a protest with which I happen to agree.

What I mean to say is that I, personally, can’t spend all day, every day, looking at pictures of animals being tortured. Sometimes I need to look away from that sort of horror. It’s not that I don’t know, and it’s not that I don’t care … though perhaps I should care more.

I just wish that I could get a card or something indicating that my momentary lack of interest is not that of the sleepwalking masses. I know that evil lurks … I was just taking a day off from focusing on it. Sorry guys.

Anyway, we also stopped off at the Tiffany store and looked at some seriously high end jewelry. Wow. Shiny.

Then, it was off to a Boston Bruins hockey game. The game was tied at the end, and proceeded to a 5 minute overtime, followed by a “shootout” in which a member of each team took a solo shot on goal. Our mighty hometown boys defeated those scummy out-of-towners on the final shot. I found myself on my feet and shouting … which was pretty cool.

Finally, we walked all the way from North Station to Chinatown, and had a big, spicy dinner at Shabu Zen. There was another game on, in which the Red Socks got ahead of some other scummy bunch of people from not-around-here by, like 10 to 1 very early in the game.

All in all, good times.

The Interview, starring Hugo Weaving, is one of the very best films ever made.

There is a cleaning product named “Resolve.” It claims to “remove tough stains,” “penetrate deep,” and to “neutralize odors.”

Having just used it on one of the more vile cat-pukes I’ve seen in a long time … I have to say … I swear by this stuff.

If you want to watch the non crapped up version, click here.

I seem to wake up in empty houses relatively frequently these days.

Yesterday and today, I’m at a conference in Providence, RI. Since the house we own here still hasn’t sold, I stayed there last night. We knew we were buying a new bed, so we left the old one at the house for exactly this circumstance. Aside from the bed … there’s not much else left there.

It’s the same house, same rooms … and all that … but without my stuff it feels like a shell. A negative space that simply occupies volume. I would say that it feels sad … but it doesn’t. It’s more that it fails to feel full of life. It’s nothing … which … having expected “home,” makes me feel kind of sad.

To my eternal shame, I have joined Oprah’s book club. To my credit, I joined only to get access to her interview with my all time favorite writer – Cormac McCarthy.

He’s a wonderfully intelligent, private man who has spent a lifetime of turning down speaking engagements, saying “everything I have to say, I’ve said in my books.” He opens up with complete honesty, and it’s beautiful. Of course, Oprah is way out of her depth. One blogger commented that it’s like watching Jessica Simpson interviewing Henry Kissinger … and I have to agree.

One thought that resonates is on having a 9 to 5 job: “I thought: you’re just here once – life is brief – and to have to spend every day doing what someone else wants you to do is not the way to live it. I don’t have any advice for anyone on how to do that, but if you work at it you can do it.”

On the subconscious – they were talking about how he feels that he’s “taking dictation” when he writes – and he tried to explain the feeling of the subconscious always being present – but that it decides at any given point “okay, tell him this, no no … he’s not ready for that.” He tried the example of the chemist who realized the structure of benzene rings while dreaming. Then he asked, somewhat rhetorically, “why wouldn’t your subconscious just tell you? Maybe it’s because the subconscious is older than language. Perhaps it’s just more comfortable in images … maybe that’s why it speaks most clearly in dreams.” He looked at Oprah, checking for comprehension.

She said, and I quote, “wow.”

To which I say: Hey, check out this interview:

A writer who renders the brutal actions of men in excruciating detail, seldom applying the anesthetic of psychology,

Yup.

It’s probably time to read Blood Meridian again … though as usual I’ve given away all my copies.

I’ve held off on gushing about a book I’ve been reading, until I reached the end. I just finished it … and without a doubt it’s one of the most accurate, direct, and well written texts on the martial arts that I’ve ever read. Beginning to end, it’s a totally worthwhile read … whether you fancy yourself a follower of a martial “way,” or are just curious about people who do. This book takes a set of feelings and impressions that I’ve been slowly gathering, and gives them incisive and expert voice.

Living the Martial Way by Forrest Morgan.

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