A fetter is born...

Our household just acquired for free a beautiful, solid oak and glass, antique display cabinet.

I hate it.

I don't care how many thousands of dollars it may be worth or how beautiful it looks,  When I saw it, taking up all that space, so big, so clunky, so...immovable and heavy, so unmatching, i felt like another chain was attached to our lives.  That thing is never leaving our house, and most likely, it will never move from the spot where it sits right now.  Give me cheap, lightweight, disposable, non-sentimental particle board furniture from Ikea; I don't want these....fetters. Because that's what our new cabinet is,  a great big pain in the ass that won't easily fit into our lives nor easily leave our lives .  We are stuck with this fucking thing, and I resent that fact.

Home Repair

Popcorn Textured Drywall Ceiling:

Before: 

 During:

 

After!

 First, Obama body surfing at sandy's.  Now, Obama on reddit.  I will follow this man to hell and back.  How could I not?

Look at that form!

What is more terrifying than NOT getting what you want?

Getting what you want.

I set my alarm clock for about an hour before my train is suppose to arrive at the destination station. I set it for one hour because I don't want to my miss my stop, obviously, but also because it is useful to track the station stops to figure out just how far along and on-time the train is.  This is in India, of course. 

Most the stations don't have announcements so you can never tell which station you are pulling into.  Many of the stations are less popular, small town destinations so the train stops for literally one minute before it moves on.  So, a lot of times I had to either point and gesticulate and pronounce my destination with a questioning tone to whomever was around me to figure out which stop I was at. Or, I'd stick my head out the door/window and try to find an English sign telling me which town I'm in.  It's how I can figure out how many more stops there are before my station. 

Arriving at my station, I'll climb down from my upper bunk, unchain my bag and wipe off the dust of an eight hour train ride.  With my messenger bag on one shoulder and the bulky backpack on the other, I'll walk off the train and onto the station.  Smell the air.  Feel the cold.  Pat my day bag to make sure my camera, glasses, journal and guidebook are still with me.  check my boardshort pockets for my passport and ATM cards.

I can't imagine how my face looks at times like this. Grinning lips and worried eyes.  Thousand yard stare with an excited smile I can't hide.

I always go to the nearest bench and put my bag down for second to check my guidebook for a last minute orientation on where to find food and shelter.  I also take this time to mentally prepare to deal with the rickshaw drivers and touts who are waiting for me outside the gates.

When it's time to go, I'll squat in front of my backpack on the bench, loop my arms into the straps and jump up to settle the 40 pounds of stuff onto my shoulders.  I'll straighten out my winter coat, secure the waist support belt, adjust the straps for comfort, then throw the messenger bag over my head so it rests against my stomach.  Then I go.


The thing I miss most about India is the Mughlai Chicken.

Did I just spend two hours on the internet watching cats jump off things? 

I sure did. 

I have been thinking.

I understand why someone would break my car window and steal my wallet and cell phone.  I was not, am not, bothered by that at all.  I understand the fact there are criminals in the world and I understand why someone would want my wallet full of money and credit cards.  And I understand why they might want to take my phone, crappy as it was.  What I don't get is why they would take my favorite sweater that happened to be in the backseat.   I was totally calm and pragmatic and accepting about being a victim of theft until I realized they stole my sweater too.  Why?  Why would they take my favorite hoodie that I've had for 8 years?  I loved that thing.  I've seen and done so much in that sweater.  Its kept me warm through countless Hawaii winter days.  Why?!  Why did they have to take my one and only sweater?!?!?! Eight  years I've had that sweater.

update: oh my god, they took my lucky red hat too...

Me, toasting bread over a propane stove in Costa Rica.

I just got an ad for OSHA in my gmail account!!!

Pet Peeve #73: People who hold their forks and spoons like a shovel and stuff food into their mouths.  It's so uncouth. 

Pet Peeve #1:  People who don't answer their door when I knock or ring the doorbell.  

Irony #5:  Unfriendly people with really nice entrance ways.  Why bother making the front of your home look warm and inviting when you're a son of a bitch?

Slaves with aloha shirt collars.

OBAMACARE FTW!!!!

So, I was driving to work at the ungodly hour of 8am and listening to NPR in the car when I catch the middle of a breaking news story about the Supreme Courts decision on Obamacare. All I hear at first is something about the Court deciding that congress didn't have the right to mandate insurance via the Commerce Clause.  I was unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping down on the accelerator looking for the nearest concrete structure to drive my car into when the radio goes on to say that the law was upheld based on the authority of congress to impose taxes.  What a bizarre way for the supreme court to legislate from the bench...but whatever, i'm happy.

 Here is a picture of me drinking and driving in what appears to be a snowstorm.  The wine was a 2008 Martin & Louis Cab. I do not recall taking this picture. 

"On a white, sandy beach, of Hawaii"

India

Here is the kind of thing one will encounter in India:

'tis a sacred cow, wandering around a train station, shitting wherever it pleases.

 Other times, one will encounter colorful moments while sipping chai on a fortress rooftop: 

What do you do when you're feeling sad?

If I'm feeling down, I drive to the 24 hour Kinko's and photocopy something. 

Pizza salad

I made a pizza salad today.  For those who don't know, a pizza salad is the dish you end up with when your pizza dough sticks completely to the pan during baking and you end up scraping all the toppings and whatever dough is salvageable into a bowl and eating straight with a fork.

Since I learned that someone I know is going to India I've been thinking about the country and I find myself romanticizing the time I spent there.  I say romanticize because the truth of the matter is, traveling is hard work, especially in a country like India

It's funny how I can look back on the times crammed into a smelly, dirty, cold passenger train full of rude peasants with nostalgia.  While conveniently forgetting about all the sleepless nights and cramped bus seats and dirty beds and cold showers and confusion I dealt with along the way.  Except I haven't really forgotten those difficulties.  I just remember them with more fondness than I actually felt at the time.

I'm not sure what the word is, but there's a term for this tendency to look back on difficult times with undue positive perspective.  It's done all the time with war.  War and soldiers have always been romanticized, people need to be more skeptical about anything that portrays war as a noble and worthwhile endeavor.  Maybe we wouldn't be spending 700 billion dollars a year on defense if war was looked upon with more suspicion.

Anyway, someone I know (not a family member) has cancer and it makes me sad.  People die.  That is life.  parents, friends, aunts, uncles, grandparents.  everyone poops, and everyone dies.  I like to believe I am more aware of death than most people; so what does it mean that I still find it so jarring to encounter death, in life?  Does this mean the lessons of death are lost upon me?

And the injustice of our health care system has never seemed more perverted and evil than it does to me right now. So, right now, I am wondering what my life will look like in the end.  If I make it to the point where I die from age related diseases and system failures, who will take care of me and how am I going to pay for it?

This was an official India Immigration office, I shit you not.  This was at one of the Nepali-Indian border crossings.

Anyway, I have a ton of advice I'm going to share with that girl who is going to India.  I'm so excited for her, and a little jealous...take me with youuuuuuuuu!  

I laid in bed for about an hour after my alarm.  I was idly picking through my thoughts and feelings, listening to the rat in the ceiling scurry around.  My 60 year old mother limped into my room and asked me to carry some heavy things for her. As I carried the boxes to her car it started to rain.   The drizzle plus the steady East winds made me shiver because I was only wearing shorts.  I checked my to-do list for the day and made one phone call; the rest of the items can wait until later in the day.  For the moment, I want to procrastinate and cogitate.

I want to believe in happy endings.  I really do. 

Tomorrow, everything will be better. I promise. 

Those token attractive girls at dinner parties or other large gatherings of friends and family who look bored or are uninterested in talking or socializing, who often sit with their arms crossed, with a haughty look on their face, who dress and act in such a way as to imply they have a high opinion of their attractiveness and are stuck up, yet lack any discernible personality...I wonder now if these girls are just actually really shy and I was guilty of fundamental attribution error. 

Aloo Gobi

I made the traditional India dish "Aloo Gobi", potatoes cauliflower. It turned out surprisingly tasty.  It was very satisfying seeing those raw ingredient turn into aauthentic-looking Indian food right in my own kitchen.  I had doubts about my ability to make such ethnic food.

Protip: Turmeric stains everything yellow.

I kind of want to go back to India now.  Somebody slap some sense into me.

Good news!  The brothers/hosts of Car Talk are retiring.  God, I hated that show; their stupid snorting laugh, their unfunny jokes, the way they laugh at their own unfunny jokes, their increasingly outdated and irrelevant advice in this age of computerized, proprietized, high tech motor vehicle repair.  

Art and Flea

Somewhere in the downtown area...

i stumbled upon a hipster congregation.

Four dollar PBR's, T-shirts with cute pictures and feather earrings.

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Morissey

hilltop. ghoulish clouds. white lights. city lights. tradewinds. unlit cigarette. Morrisey. a red shirt. ennui.

Morissey's voice exudes melancholy.  But Morissey himself? A man of humor of the dark type.  I've never heard the word "happy" pronounced with such pitch-perfect scorn. 

I'd like to have a couple of beers with the guy. I think we'd get along just fine.

set list highlights:
How Soon is Now
Shoplifters of the World Unite
Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me (LNIDTSLM)
Please please please let me get what i want (PPPLMGWIW)


After he sang PPPLMGWIW and LNIDTSLM, I realized it was appropriate that I ended up alone at a Morrisey concert.  It wouldn't have made sense any other way.

I forgot to bring my camera to the concert. So, imagine the opposite of this picture, because this is the exact opposite of a Morrissey concert.

Season Finale of Castle

OMG!  It finally happened!  They kissed!  OMG!  They even held hands!  I can't believe it!  Years of sexual tension and it finally happened!  squeeee!  oh man this feels good...

I am such a sucker for this kind of thing. 

It feels good to finally get rewarded for years of loyalty to a otherwise lame, uninspiring, formulaic, unoriginal, cliche, cop show drama.

Plus, it's nice to see Mal finally hook up with the woman he actually wants to be with.  BBF! (Bring Back Firefly!)  But this probably means the show is going to wrap up soon.

The Road.  I think my next backpacking trip is going to be a road trip across the US. Who What When Where Why and How TBD.

raaaaaaaaage

Fuck Dave. And fuck Buster.  Boycott them. don't give them money.  don't play their games; i mean that literally and figuratively because yes they have video games you can play but i really mean don't get sucked into their mind-games and lies and fraud and misrepresentation.  Argh, this place is worse than that hostel in Saigon!   Don't trust their waitresses who say "you can cash out the card" and then later play dumb and say "Oh, by 'cash out' I thought you meant redeem your remaining points for prizes" (which I wasn't allowed to do either!).  
And what kind of bar charges tax on drinks? The people at Dave and Buster's are terrible human beings and should be ashamed of themselves and the life they've chosen.  If you think about it, selling drugs or sex on a street corner is more honest than what dave and busters does.  at least with the dealer/prostitute you know upfront what you're getting into.