Friday, August 29, 2008
You've Come a Long Way, Baby...
This morning we went to the playground where young Thumper met the "Scabby Guttersnipes" (as anniemcq called them), and I thought about my former reticence at telling those kids not to touch him. I thought, too, of our trip to the mall playground earlier this week, when a young lady put her hand flat on his face and began to forcibly eject him from the rocket ship. I said, "Don't push him, please!" firmly enough to make her jump, and I held eye contact long enough to make her nervously look away and lamely say, perhaps by way of explanation, "I'm a big girl." I even smiled into the wordless glare of her mother. And it occurred to me that Thumper's not the only one who's grown and changed over the last year.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Circle of Life II: This Time, It's Personal
In 1974, I had a Fisher Price Joey Lapsitter. I loved him beyond his ability to endure it, and so eventually I got another one. I named him Georgie. I don't believe I recall the original Joey, but I definitely remember Georgie. I carried him around by his hair until it stood straight up on his head.
And now, thanks to the miracle of eBay, 34 years after Joey broke onto the scene, I give you:
"Let the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by."
And now, thanks to the miracle of eBay, 34 years after Joey broke onto the scene, I give you:
"Let the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by."
Three Undignified Sentences
I've taken to painting a double coat of stinging Nu Skin Liquid Bandage onto my right nipple before a workout to keep it from being sanded off by the fabric of my shirt as I jog. Only the right, not the left, is abraded, and I cannot fathom the physics of this exclusivity. Painting one's nipple strikes me as an undignified sort of activity.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Things I Learned by Chatting with a Giant at the Circus
I met a giant at the circus last night. If his back had been straight, he might have been close to 8 feet tall, but he was a little hunched over. His hands and feet were huge. He said he always wanted to join the circus when he was a kid, so when he turned 18, he did. He's worked 4 different shows, some of them tent shows. It took him seven years to get into Ringling, but it's by far the best he's ever been on. That's why it took him seven years.
He told me about the one time in Georgia, when the circus was stuck between 2 tornadoes, each about a half-mile away. They evacuated, and everybody left including all of the cast and crew, but he was left behind to "take care of the tent." It had 362 stakes. He ran around and around the tent tightening the ratchets on the lines, around and around until the tornadoes passed. It was loud. But the tent stayed standing.
He's only been with Ringling for 4 months, "ever since New Orleans." His job is taking care of the horses, ponies, and goats. He works one of the shifts, feeding, watering, and scooping the poop. "That's a full-time job right there, just cleaning up shit." When his shift is over, he chain smokes Newports and chats with the guys on the local crew while he waits for the bus back to the train where they all live. Sometimes it's a mile away, sometimes ten. If he knew where it was, he'd ride his bike.
When they travel, he doesn't get much sleep, because the horses only sleep about an hour at a time, and really, "that's not even worth the trouble of lying down." Because of the rocking motion of the train, the water slops out of the troughs, so he constantly has to work at refilling them. It's a bad design. They should make them so that the sides curve back in toward the middle so that when the water sloshes, it just falls back in the trough. Bad design.
The size of your room on the train is based on your seniority, which grows over time, like the size of your room, "if you're a hard worker." His room is about the size of "the back seat of a car." Well, you know, bigger than that. But it seems like it. It has a bed and a small refrigerator. The refrigerator's right next to the bed so he can't open the door all the way. That's a bad design, too. The other rooms have the refrigerators up, but no, his is on the ground so he can't even open it all the way. And he can't put his feet down next to his bed. He has to turn them sideways.
But Ringling's the best he's been on. The pay's good, the benefits are good, and the rent for your room is only $7 a week. You believe that? But then, take a look at the room. He doesn't know what those animal groups are protesting about. The animals get better treatment than the people. Ringling doesn't mess around. If they ever find you beating an animal, they fire you. And the animals' A/C on the train is better. They have fresh food and water constantly. The food they give the horses costs $120 a bag. You believe that? $120. Oats or whatever.
And the elephants are happy. They're like kids, just playing all the time. You see that sand? They like to throw it on their backs, that's why it's there. They throw everything on their backs, water, hay, sand. Then some guys with leaf blowers blow it all off. Then they do it again. That's what it's for. For them to play in it. When the show sits down somewhere, they just dump the sand in a big pile, and the elephants roll in it. They spread it around themselves.
And they get these things they call brunches. Piles of food, apples, watermelons, bananas, whole loaves of bread. They love the bread. It's like a treat for them, whole loaves of whole wheat bread. He's seen their handlers give them a whole tree, like a 600-pound tree. They ate that thing in like ten minutes. Then the Boss Man, he think his name's Asia, he's just swinging that giant log around in his trunk, hitting the ground with it. They like bamboo, too. They like to smack it on the ground. They like the sound. And those stars on their butts? Those are freeze brands. How come only a couple have them? Don't ask him. He doesn't work with the elephants.
He loves Naked Juice. Have you tried that stuff? Pureed fruit. Rinds, banana peels and all. Everything's in there. You can taste it. This one's got 22 strawberries in it. And rose hips. Only $1.69, or some shit like that.
Traveling's the best part of working the circus. He's been everywhere. He's even been to the Alamo. You believe that? The Alamo. It's just a building. Most people wouldn't go see the Alamo, but he's been there. He's been to the top of the Statue of Liberty, too. And he's been to Vegas probably three dozen times. He's been everywhere. How many people can say that? Travel. And it's free travel. Next they're taking three days on the train to get to Illinoise. The stuff for the animals goes straight there, but them? They stop for everything. Every train crossing the track. Sometimes they stop three hours, waiting for a train. Illinoise isn't going to be any cooler, either. People think it's cooler, but it gets to 104 in Illinoise. If you're here next year, you should come see them move in. It's amazing.
He told me about the one time in Georgia, when the circus was stuck between 2 tornadoes, each about a half-mile away. They evacuated, and everybody left including all of the cast and crew, but he was left behind to "take care of the tent." It had 362 stakes. He ran around and around the tent tightening the ratchets on the lines, around and around until the tornadoes passed. It was loud. But the tent stayed standing.
He's only been with Ringling for 4 months, "ever since New Orleans." His job is taking care of the horses, ponies, and goats. He works one of the shifts, feeding, watering, and scooping the poop. "That's a full-time job right there, just cleaning up shit." When his shift is over, he chain smokes Newports and chats with the guys on the local crew while he waits for the bus back to the train where they all live. Sometimes it's a mile away, sometimes ten. If he knew where it was, he'd ride his bike.
When they travel, he doesn't get much sleep, because the horses only sleep about an hour at a time, and really, "that's not even worth the trouble of lying down." Because of the rocking motion of the train, the water slops out of the troughs, so he constantly has to work at refilling them. It's a bad design. They should make them so that the sides curve back in toward the middle so that when the water sloshes, it just falls back in the trough. Bad design.
The size of your room on the train is based on your seniority, which grows over time, like the size of your room, "if you're a hard worker." His room is about the size of "the back seat of a car." Well, you know, bigger than that. But it seems like it. It has a bed and a small refrigerator. The refrigerator's right next to the bed so he can't open the door all the way. That's a bad design, too. The other rooms have the refrigerators up, but no, his is on the ground so he can't even open it all the way. And he can't put his feet down next to his bed. He has to turn them sideways.
But Ringling's the best he's been on. The pay's good, the benefits are good, and the rent for your room is only $7 a week. You believe that? But then, take a look at the room. He doesn't know what those animal groups are protesting about. The animals get better treatment than the people. Ringling doesn't mess around. If they ever find you beating an animal, they fire you. And the animals' A/C on the train is better. They have fresh food and water constantly. The food they give the horses costs $120 a bag. You believe that? $120. Oats or whatever.
And the elephants are happy. They're like kids, just playing all the time. You see that sand? They like to throw it on their backs, that's why it's there. They throw everything on their backs, water, hay, sand. Then some guys with leaf blowers blow it all off. Then they do it again. That's what it's for. For them to play in it. When the show sits down somewhere, they just dump the sand in a big pile, and the elephants roll in it. They spread it around themselves.
And they get these things they call brunches. Piles of food, apples, watermelons, bananas, whole loaves of bread. They love the bread. It's like a treat for them, whole loaves of whole wheat bread. He's seen their handlers give them a whole tree, like a 600-pound tree. They ate that thing in like ten minutes. Then the Boss Man, he think his name's Asia, he's just swinging that giant log around in his trunk, hitting the ground with it. They like bamboo, too. They like to smack it on the ground. They like the sound. And those stars on their butts? Those are freeze brands. How come only a couple have them? Don't ask him. He doesn't work with the elephants.
He loves Naked Juice. Have you tried that stuff? Pureed fruit. Rinds, banana peels and all. Everything's in there. You can taste it. This one's got 22 strawberries in it. And rose hips. Only $1.69, or some shit like that.
Traveling's the best part of working the circus. He's been everywhere. He's even been to the Alamo. You believe that? The Alamo. It's just a building. Most people wouldn't go see the Alamo, but he's been there. He's been to the top of the Statue of Liberty, too. And he's been to Vegas probably three dozen times. He's been everywhere. How many people can say that? Travel. And it's free travel. Next they're taking three days on the train to get to Illinoise. The stuff for the animals goes straight there, but them? They stop for everything. Every train crossing the track. Sometimes they stop three hours, waiting for a train. Illinoise isn't going to be any cooler, either. People think it's cooler, but it gets to 104 in Illinoise. If you're here next year, you should come see them move in. It's amazing.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Rewards of Success
ME: Hey, I'm under 260!
WEIGHT WATCHERS: That's great! Now you get less food, and your exercise doesn't count for as much! Congratulations!
ME: Oh. Yeah. That's great.
WEIGHT WATCHERS: That's great! Now you get less food, and your exercise doesn't count for as much! Congratulations!
ME: Oh. Yeah. That's great.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Walking with the Spirits
I didn't think I'd like Hank Wesselman's Spiritwalker: Messages from the Future. Mom loaned it to me with very little comment, just as she did with Celestine Prophecy awhile back. I read C.P. thinking that it was an Important Book to her, a book that she Wanted Me to Read. After I read it and was agonizing over how to tell her that as a novel it seemed like it was written by a tenth grader, I found out that she wasn't that keen on it either. She was just curious what I'd think of it. So I didn't have the pressure of thinking that she was married to Spiritwalker or that she thought it was a book that would Change My Life.
Because she didn't say much about it, I opened it thinking it was going to be a kind of how-to manual. When I discovered it was written with chapters that alternate between fantasy novel, anthropology lessons, and musings on spiritual discovery, I was a little put-off. As I read on, though, I began to enjoy the fantasy novel; the anthropology lessons were engaging; and the spiritual musings didn't get in the way too much. In the end, though, the fantasy novel's plotline just sort of trails off, which is a little disappointing, and I was ready for the book to be finished long before I turned the last page.
I like to listen to audiobooks in the car, so now that I'm reading actual paper books in addition, it makes for interesting point-counterpoint. I had the Avery Brooks-read version of Alex Haley's Roots coloring my perception of Ken Kesey's Sometimes a Great Notion, for example. And for Spiritwalker, and now for Don DeLillo's Cosmopolis, I have Barack Obama reading his own Audacity of Hope. It was kind of a cool juxtaposition, with Wesselman's assurances of the collapse of at least the United States, Canada, and Mexico and the end of metal-based technology against Obama's assurances that if we all just act like reasonable people, everything will be fine.
I could say more about my impressions of Wesselman himself, but I'm trying to be less snarky these days. Oh, all right, since you twisted my arm. I was amused by his glossing over of the ethical issue of entering the body of another man without, at least at first, his knowledge or permission, even during his most personal and private moments, like lovemaking. Wesselman says on the one hand that he felt a little guilty about it, but hey, what can you do, he can't control these episodes, and besides, the Hawaiian 5,000 years in the future that he's possessing is probably his own descendant and perhaps even a reincarnation of himself, so really, there's no dilemma. On the other hand, he says repeatedly that traveling in the spirit world is a matter of intention and clearly wants to and tries to re-establish his contact with Nainoa even before he comes to the conclusion that he is or may be both himself and his own descendant.
So there's that. And there's his unapologetic and to me, inappropriate, attraction to Nainoa's woman, whom he essentially shags while in Nainoa's body. And to the chick at the Buddhist retreat whose sleeve he stares up to get a look at her boob. Nice!
I guess the real question of the book, though, is: do I believe his story? I don't know. I have no experience in my own life that would lead me to believe that what he did is possible, but I have no experience in my own life that would lead me to believe that what Olympic athletes accomplish is possible either. It does seem more than a little convenient, though. With no experience, training, or intention, he stumbles into an ability that he himself says requires a lot of work, a lot of practice, and very focused and specific intention. He explains it by saying that, hey, sometimes the spirits just give this stuff to those that deserve it. Maybe so, but I guess the spirits don't hold humility in very high esteem.
So, not great, not bad. I guess after I take a little break with a couple of novels, I'll try another of his books that may be more of the how-to manual I thought this one was going to be. But Wesselman also warns us not to go messing around in the spirit world out of curiosity, though he did just that. The spirits, he says, do not take kindly to that kind of thing, so one should have a reason and a destination, though he at first had neither. So help me out, internets, where should I go? On a cross-millenial booty call?
Because she didn't say much about it, I opened it thinking it was going to be a kind of how-to manual. When I discovered it was written with chapters that alternate between fantasy novel, anthropology lessons, and musings on spiritual discovery, I was a little put-off. As I read on, though, I began to enjoy the fantasy novel; the anthropology lessons were engaging; and the spiritual musings didn't get in the way too much. In the end, though, the fantasy novel's plotline just sort of trails off, which is a little disappointing, and I was ready for the book to be finished long before I turned the last page.
I like to listen to audiobooks in the car, so now that I'm reading actual paper books in addition, it makes for interesting point-counterpoint. I had the Avery Brooks-read version of Alex Haley's Roots coloring my perception of Ken Kesey's Sometimes a Great Notion, for example. And for Spiritwalker, and now for Don DeLillo's Cosmopolis, I have Barack Obama reading his own Audacity of Hope. It was kind of a cool juxtaposition, with Wesselman's assurances of the collapse of at least the United States, Canada, and Mexico and the end of metal-based technology against Obama's assurances that if we all just act like reasonable people, everything will be fine.
I could say more about my impressions of Wesselman himself, but I'm trying to be less snarky these days. Oh, all right, since you twisted my arm. I was amused by his glossing over of the ethical issue of entering the body of another man without, at least at first, his knowledge or permission, even during his most personal and private moments, like lovemaking. Wesselman says on the one hand that he felt a little guilty about it, but hey, what can you do, he can't control these episodes, and besides, the Hawaiian 5,000 years in the future that he's possessing is probably his own descendant and perhaps even a reincarnation of himself, so really, there's no dilemma. On the other hand, he says repeatedly that traveling in the spirit world is a matter of intention and clearly wants to and tries to re-establish his contact with Nainoa even before he comes to the conclusion that he is or may be both himself and his own descendant.
So there's that. And there's his unapologetic and to me, inappropriate, attraction to Nainoa's woman, whom he essentially shags while in Nainoa's body. And to the chick at the Buddhist retreat whose sleeve he stares up to get a look at her boob. Nice!
I guess the real question of the book, though, is: do I believe his story? I don't know. I have no experience in my own life that would lead me to believe that what he did is possible, but I have no experience in my own life that would lead me to believe that what Olympic athletes accomplish is possible either. It does seem more than a little convenient, though. With no experience, training, or intention, he stumbles into an ability that he himself says requires a lot of work, a lot of practice, and very focused and specific intention. He explains it by saying that, hey, sometimes the spirits just give this stuff to those that deserve it. Maybe so, but I guess the spirits don't hold humility in very high esteem.
So, not great, not bad. I guess after I take a little break with a couple of novels, I'll try another of his books that may be more of the how-to manual I thought this one was going to be. But Wesselman also warns us not to go messing around in the spirit world out of curiosity, though he did just that. The spirits, he says, do not take kindly to that kind of thing, so one should have a reason and a destination, though he at first had neither. So help me out, internets, where should I go? On a cross-millenial booty call?
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Berlitz Thumper-to-English Dictionary
Abuh - button.
Ba - bath.
Badu - bottle.
Bah - bottle.
Ball - ball.
Bay - bear.
Bee - bee.
Beebee - baby.
Bej - badge.
Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh - banana.
Bok - sound made by a chicken.
Book - book.
Boom - balloon.
Boon - balloon.
Bowl - bowl.
Bubbo - bubbles.
Buh - button.
Bup - belch.
Bush - brush.
Butt - button.
Bye - birdie.
Bye bye - goodbye.
Cheesh - cheese.
Chew - shoe.
Cock - cup.
Cook - cookie.
Cookoo - cookie.
Cuh - cup.
Dadu - father.
Dah - dog.
Dah - squirrel.
Do - juice.
Duck - duck.
Dung - tongue.
Eee - ear.
Eee - eat.
Eee i eee i - Old MacDonald Had A Farm.
Eye - eye.
Gah - glasses.
Gahgoo - gargle.
Hah - hat.
Hah - hot.
Joosh - juice.
Key - cat.
Knee - knee.
Lie - light.
Mama (softly) - mother.
Mamamamama (emphatically) - more.
Mmm - sound made by a car.
Moh - more.
Moo - sound made by a cow.
Moomp - broom.
Mungo - grandmother.
Nie nie - goodnight.
No - nose.
Nonononononono (emphatically) - no.
Oh - sound made by a cat.
Papa - grandfather.
Poop - excrement.
Pop - Justin Roberts' "Pop Fly"
Puck - cat.
Puck - Puck.
Tash - trash.
Tash - Tasha.
Teesh - teeth.
Tiku tiku - tickle.
Toe - toes.
Tut - flatulence.
Uh - up.
Uh - uh oh.
Ba - bath.
Badu - bottle.
Bah - bottle.
Ball - ball.
Bay - bear.
Bee - bee.
Beebee - baby.
Bej - badge.
Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh - banana.
Bok - sound made by a chicken.
Book - book.
Boom - balloon.
Boon - balloon.
Bowl - bowl.
Bubbo - bubbles.
Buh - button.
Bup - belch.
Bush - brush.
Butt - button.
Bye - birdie.
Bye bye - goodbye.
Cheesh - cheese.
Chew - shoe.
Cock - cup.
Cook - cookie.
Cookoo - cookie.
Cuh - cup.
Dadu - father.
Dah - dog.
Dah - squirrel.
Do - juice.
Duck - duck.
Dung - tongue.
Eee - ear.
Eee - eat.
Eee i eee i - Old MacDonald Had A Farm.
Eye - eye.
Gah - glasses.
Gahgoo - gargle.
Hah - hat.
Hah - hot.
Joosh - juice.
Key - cat.
Knee - knee.
Lie - light.
Mama (softly) - mother.
Mamamamama (emphatically) - more.
Mmm - sound made by a car.
Moh - more.
Moo - sound made by a cow.
Moomp - broom.
Mungo - grandmother.
Nie nie - goodnight.
No - nose.
Nonononononono (emphatically) - no.
Oh - sound made by a cat.
Papa - grandfather.
Poop - excrement.
Pop - Justin Roberts' "Pop Fly"
Puck - cat.
Puck - Puck.
Tash - trash.
Tash - Tasha.
Teesh - teeth.
Tiku tiku - tickle.
Toe - toes.
Tut - flatulence.
Uh - up.
Uh - uh oh.
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