Also this week we are frying down whole villages.
Coincidences (aka Spontaneous Unsolicited Upgrades, aka signs of Forming)
There has been a big spontaneous upgrade to all-the-time contacts. I got them last January, but I had a story going that I couldn't write with them in. Too much disequilibrium somehow. (To be fair, this was fully mid-Frognado. Real disequilibrium.) I spend a fair bit of time writing, so days could go by without my putting my contacts in.
What we are doing here:
Dwelling in mystery.
Luxuriating in pleasure.
Seeking the hot tracks.
Glorying in the pageantry and spectacle of the phenomenal world, and gracefully negotiating the contradiction between revelry and spirituality. (If there is one.)
And: asking What else might be possible?
But right now, my only pair of glasses, possibly among the last ones ever manufactured in the great fashion nation of Italy, are lying at the bottom of the Annisquam River following a completely predictable paddleboarding accident, all my fault.
People used to regularly stop me in the street to exclaim over these glasses, right up to the end. I loved them intemperately and am even now wearing my black armband.
But I think it is a Sneaky Spontaneous Unsolicited Upgrade (SSUU). Forced to write with contacts in! And just like that, I have become a person who wears contacts. No big deal. Isn't that the way?
Another upgrade-in-disguise: I couldn't find my Brazil-themed nail color (Samba-dy Likes Purple) today, and I spent an unreasonable amount of time looking, and in the end settled for a color named Pompeii Purple, which like the first is in no way purple, it is a sparkly fuchsia, but is better because 1. ITALY, the place with the BEST GLASSES and best everything, really, and 2. You know how I am always bragging about being a volcano of excellent ideas?
Well right now I am a volcano of actual lava, a fury of natural destruction, and anything "Pompeii" better fits my mood of wanting to fry down whole villages with what's inside me, more about that later or perhaps never.
(Well, maybe when I get around to writing about those Dangerous Things.)
I am noticing some things about comfort. Here are a few:
That if I have eaten "for comfort," I don't get any comfort from it because eating that way makes me go numb. I'm actually tring to stop feeling, and in that state, I can't take in comfort, because "comfortable" IS A FEELING.
Then, while I'm disconnected from my feelings, I eat too much, and when feeling returns, I'm even more uncomfortable because I've got a full stomach on top of the emotional pain, and I don't like the feeling of fullness anymore, and haven't for quite a while.
Not that this happens a lot; it hardly does at all. Just putting into words what I've never seen so clearly before.
When traveling you've got to negotiate a tricky balance between carrying everything you need (heavy = uncomfortable) and going without (underprovisioned = uncomfortable). It's … tricky! That makes this another DUH insight, but I'm traveling a lot. In fact, I'm traveling again tomorrow.
I'm getting very aware and much less tolerant of unnecessary discomfort.
Marines, hippies, narcissists, environmentalists, crunchy boarding school faculty, outdoorsmen - so many of the people who brought me up encouraged or approved of physical discomfort in such a way that I thought there was something wrong with me for wanting comfort (and even luxury).
Since I was surrounded by confident (and egocentric) people - and a zero on the confidence scale would've been north for me - I tolerated an insane burden of discomfort. I was absolutely ashamed of preferring comfort, as if God and Darwin and everybody would've been mystified by me. But now I see it as a neutral preference, like espresso v americano.
So all the people around me who celebrated physical hardship like it's a badge of honor … augh, I don't want that.
Here are some other Badges of Discomfort (BoD) I have earned but don't want to wear anymore:
- The Quarter Bounce
- The Obeys Orders (well, except when she doesn't)
- The Straight A's
- The Summa Cum Laude
- The Teacher's Pet
- The Teacher Knows Best (especially the yoga teacher)
- The Invisible Stitches (actually I'll keep that one, because being able to sew beautifully is a fine skill - I just don't feel it's among my most sexy attributes)
- The Clean Plate
- The Deflected Compliment
- The Selfless Sex Partner
- The Reflexive Apology
- The 14er (oh! NOPE, failed to collect that one by a couple hundred meters)
- The All-Natural Childbirth
- The Cloth Diapers
- and more!
I notice I'm pretty comfortable writing. Until I'm not. Which is right now. Because I really want to be writing even-more-dangerous Dangerous Things, but it feels like Silent Retreat might be a better idea until the lava cools down and makes some nice pahoehoe <<<- favorite word from freshman geology. I've waited a long time to write that.
So I guess I am imagining 1. Frying down some villages with my lava flow but NO! 2. Turning into Thich Nhat Hanh and transmuting my lava into pahoehoe for ... what? I don't know. For tourists to admire? I really do not even know.
And that makes this another piece of documentary evidence showing I have Trouble with Metaphors. Help a sister out, if you like. What is cooled lava good for, anyway?
Updates on past experiments
There have been no further Indecently Long Lunches, but I am going on a beach holiday to Maine tomorrow, so I expect to have one every single day. To be followed by Absurdly Leisurely Apero.
The Tote of Receiving (kinda like a Bag of Holding, but I don't call it that because I don't want you to get wind of my Nerd Origin Story, which is that I'm kind of a nerd) is back at the shop, in Texas I believe, where it is getting its red-and-yellow initials. I miss it very much, in fact so much that I caught myself looking at other totes (Henry Beguelin, yummy) at the consignment shop. Whereupon I reined it in, of course. I am very loyal to my Tote of Receiving, as it is the Bag to End All Need for More Bags.
Although I will just allow that I was in that shop checking on a pink python Dolce & Gabbana evening clutch, waiting for it to go to 50% off. Which it did! But, you know, a gal's gotta have an evening clutch. You can't carry
Bag of Holding Tote of Receiving while wearing a sexy cocktail top into a glamourous cocktail joint.
Destination: Date night
What has happened? We went to Kirkland Tap & Trotter, which I might be the only person in the world to have disliked. The food was fine. The staff are fine. But as you know, there are things even more important than food. Here the atmosphere is Ironic Iowa Hootenanny, which, I am not from Iowa, but WHAT NO. Farm implements and those big fake barn stars on the wall. Bob Seger - really loud - on the speakers.
I go back and forth: Which is harder to take, earnestness, or irony? Today, irony. Ironic Iowa is not my kind of Iowa. I guess Star Trek (2009) is my kind of Iowa.
However, DATE NIGHT. Doesn't happen every night. So that part was good.
- Alden & Harlow
- Alinea (Chicago)
- Area Four
- Battersby (Brooklyn)
- Beast (Portland)
- Bondir Concord
- Coppa (for brunch)
- Franny's (Brooklyn)
Kirkland Tap & Trotter
- Myers & Chang
- No. 9 Park
- Pok Pok Noi (Portland)
- Puritan & Co. (for brunch)
- Roberta's (Brooklyn)
- West Bridge
Then there is a short list of places I shall not soon tire of, and always want to go back to:
- B&G Oysters
- Brick and Mortar
- Miracle of Science
That should keep us busy for a while, but please feel free to suggest additions.
Or just read on Silent Retreat. Either way: RESPECT.