Birth! And other (more or less) notable events.

My friend Kate* gave birth to her THIRD kid last week (August 6th, to be exact). Baby number three is a boy named Silas Wolff Lewandowski. Elliott (big brother) and Adelaide (middle sister) are reportedly very excited and mommy is recovering nicely, though that doesn’t surprise me: chica’s an old hand at it by now.

So, that’s one more beautiful baby in the bunch – big congratulations to those coo-coo crazy breeders.


My own news seems to pale in comparison. I finally got up the nerve to do some much-needed shopping this weekend. I didn’t buy much, but finally got myself a raincoat and new yoga-friendly stuff. As for regular clothes… a pair of jeans, one shirt and fleece – not a bad start. I expect another trip to some traditional stores and a few thrift shop visits will finish the dastardly deed… um, soonish. I’m really picky about my clothes, yet still fashionable retarded – how does that happen?

Sean and I are going camping in the Napa wine region later this week. We’ll be staying at Harbin Hot Springs which is retreat type of place that offers camping, massages, saunas/steam rooms, yoga, hiking, hot springs and, best of all, bathing suits be optional! Yay nudity! The list of hospitality services is varied – you can pitch a tent, book a hotel room or stay in their private pod-like domes, which mildly scare me. Nonetheless, I may have to move there.

I’ve been getting back into running, as I mentioned in my last post. I’m still wheezing and walking a lot of the course, but I’m improving, feeling strong. Beefcake!

Wahoo, time to go home.

*Kate lives on a dome (small mountain) outside Fairbanks, Alaska in a house her husband built while they were living in a tent, raising chickens. Only recently does she have plumbing, but still no electricity. When the snow is melting their road is impassable and in the summer the mosquitoes are something even Dante never cared to imagine.
In short, Mama Kate is one bitchin’ chick.

Running thoughts

I was running this gravel, industrial loop in our town (a great idea executed as tastelessly as possible) and I had a sensory memory moment remembering that swift and heavy sensation that buzzes through you when you lock eyes with someone and realize you're both seeing past social norms and distractions (clothing, surrounding, physical and psychological contexts) to an all-revealing, mystery-solved snap of utter comprehension. Clean doors and shit, Man. Yogis meditate to similar levels of consciousness, Emerson referred to it has being sucked up into an all-seeing transparent eyeball.* It leaves faster than it came, and there may be no way to explain or even fully acknowledge the overwhelmingly robust swell of contentment, that blinks out so quickly you half doubt it ever happened. Sex leaves a wet spot or two, but has similar "did that really happen?" qualities. Close emotional proximity doesn't catalyze these chance occurrences - they are best experienced between two people who know nothing of one another. This allows limitless contexts - the look of understanding just before you leave the bar with someone you don't really know, a long, shared look of profound sexual longing through a window as the train pulls away from the platform - and is born of raw, universal coincidence ruled by timing immeasurable to our best rubrics.

Whatever anyone decides it is nor isn't, it's something I haven't felt in a while with another human being, there's no guarantee I ever will again. It's a rare thing, yet to go without it feels like deprivation, malnutrition. On a less general, more personal level, I often associate it with casual sex and less "serious" parts of my life and times. It's not exactly the sex itself I miss, it's the mystery and newness of a stranger (one whose ways are not known by me, not some random dude in line at the hot dog vendor) - not an easily replicated sensation. If I believed in heaven or a perfect state, it would probably be that feeling prolonged into eternity.

That's what I think about when I run (when I'm not thinking about how my chest cavity is buckling and death imminent.)

* I does love me some transparent eyeball. There. I said it.

Mondays happen

Sean is hungover and I'm feeling awfully sleep today. But, we had a good weekend spend at home cleaning (the yard is now plum-free, for a while), cooking and leading the mutt around. It feels like we had a week off, which amazes me. When I first got back into the work week, it seemed like I had zero free time to myself; the more adjusted I get, the more time it feels like I regain. Once we move closer to Stanford our home lives will get at least an hour and half longer. That will be great. Maybe we'll get a bathtub or dishwasher out of the deal, as well. Who knows?

My project to I'm haul my brain of out of storage and start preparations for PhD applications is under way. I've re-started a book on Modern Critical Theory and checked out a Norton Anthology of American Lit (the short one, only 6,000 pages) from the library - phase one of the great GRE subject cram. It feels good to have a personal higher purpose than simply showing up for work in clean(ish) clothing.

Oh yeah, clothes. I needs some. I needs some yesterday. Ever since I started yoga my body has entirely changed shape. I weigh the same, maybe a little more due to some muscle gain, but my proportions are all different now. So, my favorite jeans make me feel dumpy and none of my non-denim pants fit at all. The big problem here is that I hate shopping: the stores, the pushy/non-existent sales people, spending money - all of it. Nothing ever seems to fit, either and I have no idea what size I am. Small? Smaller than most but not exactly skinny? Negative 3? I almost wish I had a job with a uniform, except that uniforms never actually fit me well.

Ah well, I'm off to google Formalism.

"A screaming comes across the sky..."

http://americanbookreview.org/100BestLines.asp

Justice will be served?

Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska Reportedly Indicted

By REUTERS

Published: July 29, 2008

Filed at 12:54 p.m. ET

WASHINGTON(Reuters) - Sen. Ted Stevens from Alaska, the longest serving U.S. Republican senator ever, was indicted on seven counts related to his holding of public office, a federal law enforcement official said Tuesday.

The U.S. Justice Department has scheduled a news conference for 1:20 p.m. to make an announcement "regarding a significant criminal matter." The official said the news conference would announce the criminal charges against Stevens that have been returned by a federal grand jury in Washington, D.C.

Speaking in generalities...

...I'm kind of tired of my job already, four months into it. The people are great - I couldn't ask for nicer bosses and co-workers (mostly) and the workload is beyond manageable. But, it's not my career. It is, however, a great place to pay off debt and tuck money away for rainier days.

So, I'm starting to look ahead, a little. We went hiking on Mt. Tam with our friend, Sarah, who just finished up her master's degree this spring. She's flirting with the idea of pursuing her PhD, which automatically got my own wheels spinning. I have to admit, I'm in the perfect position to start down that path (and a long, slow path it will be). This job demands little of me, so I have energy and time leftover to study; it's also a college campus - a damn fine one - with limitless resources available to me. For example, if I run short on references, I can take a class here for free. I've even gone so far as to lay out a plan in my head. There are the GRE's: both the regular ones (my last set of score expired this year, I think) and the subject test in Literature (which means priming myself on Western Literature, as a whole). And I'll need to polish up a paper to submit. Gleaming, it must gleam and blind oncoming traffic.

And then there's the whole where to apply thing. I'm picky about where I'll live - red states, land-locked states, southern states... all out of the question. And I plan to study Modern American Lit, so studying abroad is downright silly.

Decisions, decisions. So, I'm facing a lot of work (the test prep alone is quite daunting), but I'm in the perfect position to be doing so - I have the time and the funding (two things that are not easily happened upon simultaneously). To truly feel comfortable embarking on the application process, I'll want to bone up on my critical theory, reconnect with British Literature and then practice taking that dastardly general exam (algebra, ahoy).

I think I need a nap.

Frank goes prime time?

I guess if people do not find Frank O'Hara via other poets, bookstores or the academy, the TV Machine isn't a terrible alternative...

from Freakonomics: http://freakonomics.blogs.nytimes.com
July 28, 2008, 10:37 am

Publishers: Get Your Books in Don Draper’s Hands

By Stephen J. Dubner

Last night was the second-season premiere of the TV series Mad Men. I watched the series devoutly last year; this year, it has gotten such a huge press buildup that I was almost sick of it before it aired.

Last night’s episode didn’t push the storylines forward too much, since it needed to reacclimate viewers to where the characters stand. But there was one significant theme: Don Draper, at 36, is feeling older. He seems prepped, mentally and physically, for a midlife crisis. So when he’s having lunch in a bar and sees the fellow next to him reading Meditations in an Emergency, a collection of Frank O’Hara’s poems, it makes an impression. Later in the show we see a beauty shot of the book’s cover as Draper himself reads it intently.

I clicked over to Amazon to check the book’s sales rank a few minutes after Draper read the book. A rather mediocre No. 15,565. This morning, at 8:30 a.m., the book was ranked No. 161. That probably represents only 50 or 100 copies sold, but it’s a pretty fantastic leap for a 50-year-old book of poems. Since Mad Men is set in the early 1960’s, publishers are obviously limited in their product-placement opportunities. But I’m sure all of you can think of some good books to get in the hands of some current TV characters.