portent.

Just though i'd mention briefly the passing of Frank McCourt, author of (among other things) the 'memoir'* Angela's Ashes, a piece of reading of which i'm very fond. From what i gather, this book seems to polarize readers to a great degree. i just remember being unable to put it down, and feeling very connected and drawn in to his world via the writing style; it was one of my first encounters with written dialogue sans quotation marks, which i rejoiced upon discovering. Almost everyone in the book is a sad case, to one degree or another; one, an over-alcoholic father capable of scant few redeeming acts (the occasion on which he sucked the killing phlegm out of his infant son's nose being one that completely floored me. i will never forget it.).

In any case, if you hated the book, that's your impression, and you're entitled to it. If you loved it, i am right there with ya. And if you haven't cracked the spine yet, i hereby strongly encourage you to do so (assuming you have a few heartstrings left). He is a magnificent story-teller. May Irish oyes smile upon you, Frank, and thanks for leaving your story behind.

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In other news: the longest full solar eclipse of the 21st century occurred today (not visible from N. America, of course! zounds.), and Nat found the larva of a ladybird near our bathroom sink... fine and lovely omens those are, i do decree.

*i find a memoir to be a very malleable interpretation of "facts", or "events". The very term suggests that any words strung together by the author are at the liquid mercy of their own personal memory. This is part of the human condition. Otherwise they would be called "autobiographies", and as we all know, even then the truth can be diluted indeed. i mention this because a lot of the negative reviews i have heard about his book tend to sit pretty squarely in the "well, he obviously embellished" column. Who among us hasn't?

a return to an end

Not that anyone would be missing anything, but i think i may stretch out this computer-abstinence thing i've got goin' on. While Nat was away, i realized that far too many of my waking hours had been spent peering intently into the little screen of my MacBook, searching for something (anything!) more interesting and better-spent pursuing than my actual dismal existence... this saddened me quite a bit. True, i worked quite a bit this past weel, and spent too much of my leisure time watching a bunch of movies (Once, Control, Amélie, Tokyo!, and other good'uns), but i actually got some other stuff done, as well. Like finally picked up a book off the shelf that i'd not got around to reading. And dusting the HECK out of my bedroom, which lifted a ton of weight off the old conscience, and probably the lungs, too. i realized that i've been running, and hiding, and procrastinating, for too long. it's time to figure some stuff out. i don't have any idea what i want out of life, and that cannot be a good thing.
As much as i want to check in with The Daily Coyote and Pioneer Woman, it is simply too tempting. Remember the time when we didn't have computers? i sure do, because it wasn't really all that long ago for me. 2006, i believe. And i did stuff back then. San Diego has deadened me to the point where i would rather hole up in my room all day and read about amazing stuff that other people are out there doing than go out and live my own damn life. It's gotta stop. i can't be so closed-off anymore. There are things that need to be sorted out, figured out.

And as much as this is probably just wishful thinking, i would like to take a break? From all of the amazing things that the internet has to offer. It's time.


In other news: what do you think makes a bird fly in any one direction? Do they leap up and just... follow the wind? Head towards the light? Find a favorite tree? Do they have favorite trees? Or is there some other instinctual force moving them ever forward, onward? i want to know the answers to these things.

The other morning, i awoke at 7:34 a.m. to a loud rumbling sound. i precisely remember my very first thought: oh fuck, is my upstairs neighbor slamming doors at 7:30 in the morning now, or what? But then i woke up a tad more (read: opened my eyes, which had been glued shut with sleep) and realized that i was standing in the bedroom doorway. Instinctively. And it hit me: there was an earthquake! Cool! And i did the right thing, without even thinking about it... how bizarre. Is this because i am a California Kid? Who knows. i was impressed with myself, anyway. It was like someone i didn't know was living right beneath the surface, a take-charge kinda gal who knew how to deal with what life threw at you. i liked that.

Also, a friend of mine from work lost a roommate to an intentional drug overdose last week. Another friend from work actually witnessed a man falling from six stories up and landing on the car in front of her. He did not live. i guess what i'm saying is: life is short. You know it, and i know it, and now they know it too late. There are so many things to do, and so little time to do them. All i know is that if i died tomorrow, i would not be happy. This has got to change. Be it reading books, or taking a different bike ride, or a new bus route, i need to get out of here. There is no time like the present.

i may check in from time to time (who am i kidding, i know i will), but it's sayonara for a little bit. Curtain call, or what have you. Perhaps this is only... an intermission?

Joanna Newsom - "En Gallop"

Switzerland, and sharks!

Watch out, y'all, because pretty soon i'm going to post a bunch of book covers. A bunch of academic book covers.

Over the years, Nat has amassed quite an extensive collection of logic/physics/math/philosophy books. More than once, i have found myself staring off into space while thinking intently, only to find my eyes boring into the cover of one of these dense tomes... They have become sort of a wallpaper for my life. i see them strewn about on almost every flat surface of our home. Some are abstract, while others make use of famous works of art. And others are simply one solid color and a title, bam. i find them endlessly interesting, for whatever reason, and so you will soon be subjected to them too. It will be so....... lame, probably. But that's what you get for visiting me here.

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In other news, Nat is heading off to Geneva tomorrow morn, and taking Ol' MacBook with him. So i will be alone, so very alone. It will be interesting to see how i manage to cope with this situation! i never realized how hooked i'd gotten to this dang thing. Who knew a brick of subservient plastic could be so... friendly? And informative?

Meanwhile, i present for your enjoyment the curious case of the Helicoprion:


There has been much conjecture about the extremely unusual spiral formation of its teeth. This was, i think, the first artist's rendering that Nat and i saw, and of course we were intrigued. There have been other depictions, but we finally found this article, which seems to make sense of this peculiar (and seemingly self-devastating!) dental arrangement– it was probably rolled up in the throat cavity! Sort of reminiscent of the moray eel. Very interesting stuff going on.

Have a lovely week, and make sure to at least light a sparkler at some point. Ciao bellas!

the same, but different.

Hey, wanna know something kinda cool?

Your lungs are asymmetrical. Yeah, that's right. Those mothas don't match.

So, typically*, your right lung has three, count 'em 3, "lobes". And your left lung has but two. The lower of which, by the way, has an amazing little depression in it, one that your heart fits right snug into: the Cardiac Notch.



...How fucking cool is that? Here is another link, with some technical jargon if that's your thang.

i can't even remember how i stumbled upon this information recently, but i was amazed. Much like i was in the 4th or 5th grade when i learned that we have 206 bones. It seemed like an awful lot to me at the time.

So yeah. Earlier today, Nat and i dusted off our copy of The Anatomy Coloring Book, which we bought at the student store on UC Berkeley campus ages ago. We'd brought it home, eager to learn and color within (or without!) the lines, when a fight began only minutes in to our endeavor. You see, i'd colored a vein and its nearby artery the same color– red. Can you imagine? The nerve of me.
Nat was rankled. The parts were all lettered, he told me, right there in the left margin, and everything was supposed to be a different color so that you could easily distinguish one from the other. Had i even read the instructions before i began marking the page with serpentine carmine strokes? What had i been thinking?

i'm sure i stomped off at this point, and needless to say, the ($26!) book was never opened again. Cue to something like seven years later, and we managed to have quite a lot of fun learning about the Mastication Muscles. We kept everything color-coded, for the most part, but here and there maybe a tooth was blacked out, or a flower added around a skull's eye socket, Día de los Muertos-style. Just to keep it real, you know? And also, fun. Finally.

*Unless you are, say, Catherine O'Hara, who among others has a fairly rare congenital condition known as Situs Inversus. Your organs are mirrored from most others! Hurrah, you're a natural freak-show! Neat. Although sometimes, this condition causes heart disease and/or chronic sinusitis, which of course are not at all neat.

round and round and round

So we're going to the county fair today. Which means fun, in all of its various forms: sounds, lights, fatty foods, and endorphins. So then why am i finding it impossible to stop worrying about nuclear war?
i know that North Korea has been full of bombast for about as long as i can remember... but it feels different to me right now, somehow. i keep having this vision of being at the apex of the Ferris wheel, looking out into the sunset, and then suddenly witnessing a horrible sight as a cloud of light and death explodes on the horizon.

... but i guess you could say i've always had an over-active imagination. It doesn't help that ever since i learned about Hiroshima and Nagasaki, i've been magnetized toward first-hand accounts from the days when the bombs were dropped there. Seriously, it is subject matter that i can't seem to get enough of, maybe because it seems to offer solid proof of what i've felt all along: that we are a despicable race of selfish, greedy, impetuous, hypocritical, vulnerable, unhappy beings. (Sorry, that was a lot of adjectives there, and described those on both sides of the issue, i should say.)

i recently came across some watercolors that were painted (more recently) by people who were at ground zero during the atomic attacks in Japan. never have i been more horrified, or more fascinated. Check them out for yourselves if you have the fortitude. It is most humbling.

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In other news, Clarence Thomas is an ass. But i am still ever so grateful for this winning ruling for the Arizona teen who was strip-searched for Ibuprofen. Ridiculous that someone should be traumatized (for life, no doubt) because they had IBUPROFEN on their person somewhere. i don't care if it was prescription strength. Someone needs to deal with their power-control issues.


see you all later, sorry for the weightiness. To counteract heavy thoughts, i highly recommend.....

....going to the fair!