If you were planning a cross-country road trip, what are some places you would make sure to include?
Here’s some starters to get the ball rolling:
I’d like to see Crater Lake again.
Lassen Volcano Park.
I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon.
Nor the Dakota Badlands.
Niagra Falls.
Yellowstone and Old Faithful.
C’mon, I’m sure you folks have got some brilliant ideas!
At my local post office, there is a big poster warning about identity theft.
The picture is of some woman’s driver’s license, and someone is applying over the woman’s photo a new photo of some man.
Said man, of course, has a shaved head and a goatee.
I’m being profiled, dammit.
And please, like I’d bother stealing someone’s driver’s license.
Now, rooting their computer, that’s another issue altogether.
Last night I saw a man eat fire, extinguish one torch with his mouth, breathing a steady bunsen burner of flame, and using that to light another torch.
He also shattered a light bulb and ate the glass shards.
He licked a red-hot electrical heating element.
He shattered several wine bottles to make a good field of broken glass and proceeded to walk on the glass, jumping up and down a few times. He also laid on the glass and had an audience member stand on his chest.
He laid on a bed of nails and had four people stand on his chest.
He laid across four swords and had someone break a cinder block on his chest with a sledge hammer.
He pushed metal skewers through the middle of his forearm, through his bicep, and from under his tongue down through the underside of his jaw.
And he did all of this in a tiny little theater of 20 people, where everyone could see the action really up close.
And perhaps the most amazing feat of the night, I asked a total stranger to go see the show with me. And even more bewildering, she said “yes”!
The performer was Zamore, the Torture King.
The theater was the Climate Theater, south of Market in SF.
The one-time total stranger was phoebek.
I’d like to note for the record; today is the first time I’ve ever had to get a teacher naked, rub them all over and make them moan, just in order to pass a class.
But it probably won’t be the last time.
This morning I (finally) did the hands-on final for the Advanced massage class from last fall. I know, I know, but the class ended in mid-December, and the holidays, and then I was quitting work, and… but yeah, I should have scheduled it sooner than I did.
Anyway, my hands-on final was this morning, and it went swimmingly. The instructor was very complimentary about how attentive I was, my choreography and transitions, the length of the strokes and how I extended all the way to the attachments. She really dug it, and seemed to feel much looser, and even taller after the massage. The only minor criticism I got was a reminder to work on my body mechanics and really drive the stokes with my lower body. We talked about how that’s an on-going challenge for me, with my big chest and shoulders, especially when working on a smaller client, like she is.
She had a major knot in her shoulder, and a chiro appointment scheduled for right after the massage, so I was really happy to be able to make some headway there and get things loosened up so the chiro would be able to make adjustments.
Yay! Good massage, and I’ve finally wrapped up that class!
Oh yeah, and tonight I get to do the “Deep 2” class for my Fundamentals students. I love it when the instructor lets me run a class! 🙂
Over the weekend, I had occasion to take a friend to the emergency room for a few staples in the head. (It sounds more dramatic than it was. Snowboarding accident, one-inch long cut, no biggie.) When he was finally summoned to see the doctor, I tagged along to listen and take pictures. Hey, it’s a head wound, c’mon!
Anyway, as we’re chatting with the doctor, he starts listing warning signs we should look for later in the evening, some of which call for an objective observer (unusual behavior, belligerence, that sort of thing). So, the doctor turns to me and says, “You’re his… father?”
My friend is 35. I’m 38. His father? Fucking hell! Okay so my hair has an increasing amount of white in it, but still!
Grumble, mumble, gripe.
In February of 2002, I wrote a post about my uncle being diagnosed with cancer. At the time, we worried whether he would make it through the summer.
This morning, two years later, I got the phone call that he has died. I’m sad that he’s gone, glad we had as much time with him as we did, horrified by how cancer can completely subvert your body and turn it against you, relieved that his suffering and pain are over, and worried for my cousins and aunt and how they will handle all this.
I had every reason not to like this man. I was four when my aunt married him. His name was Robert, and she typically called him Bob or Bobby. Since I was called “Bobby”, the family soon took to calling me “Little Bobby”. Talk about emasculating; that’s right up there with “John Boy”. I grew up with a passle of little cousins wandering around, knee high, all calling me “Little Bobby”. *shudder*
Bob was outgoing and gregarious, one of those people who never met a stranger, because he knew their life story within five minutes of meeting them. I was a shy, quiet kid, often tongue-tied and intimidated by Bob’s boisterous nature. Bob played high school football and was a sports fan his entire life, while I was more bookish with virtually no interest in sports.
And yet, I never felt anything but warmth and acceptance from Bob. I learned to respect and value his gentle sense of humor, his love for his family, his devotion to his kids (and eventually his grandchildren). My brother’s line was that Bob was the sort of guy who would sew a shirt, just so he could give you the shirt off his back. I enjoyed playing poker with Bob, or listening to him tell stories while he fished, or just sitting around the breakfast table lingering over a pot of coffee. I’m really going to miss him.
Headlines from the Associated Press news service, three consecutive days:
Bush Declines to Back Call for Iraq Probe
Bush May Back Iraq Intelligence Panel
Bush to Seek Intelligence Failures Probe
I’m guessing tomorrow we’ll see “Bush Claims Iraq Intelligence Panel Was His Idea All Along”.
… and I’m “The Loverboy”, Random Gentle Love Master (RGLMm)
Well-liked. Well-established. You are The Loverboy. Loverboys thrive in committed, steady relationships–as opposed to, say, Playboys, who want sex without too much attachment.
You’ve had many relationships and nearly all of them have been successful. You’re a nice guy, you know the ropes, and even if you can be a little hasty with decisions, most girls think of you as a total catch. Your hastiness comes off as spontaneity most of the time anyhow, making you especially popular in your circle of friends, too.
Your exact opposite:
The Billy Goat, Deliberate Brutal Sex Dreamer
You know not to make the typical Loverboy mistake of choosing someone who appreciates your good humor and popularity, but who offers nothing in return. You belong with someone outgoing, independent, and creative. Otherwise, you’ll get bored. And then instead of surprising her with flowers or a practical joke, you’ll surprise her by leaving.
ALWAYS AVOID: The Nymph
CONSIDER: The Window Shopper, The Peach
It must be true; I read it on the Internet.
Another afternoon of playing TA for the Fundamentals of Massage class, this time sitting in on the other section of the class.
On the first night of the Advanced Massage class, the instructor asked each of us what we wanted out of the class. My response was like so. “In Fundamentals, there was a palpable difference between having a student work on you, no matter how talented and well-intentioned, and having one of the instructors place hands on you during one of the demos. Just a huge, immediate difference. I’m not even sure I can say what about their touch was different. But that’s where I want to be.”
Now I’m getting some validation that I’m entering that territory, even if on the periphery. As a TA, I am occasionally asked to demo something, and I’m pretty regularly getting the “eyes roll back in head and moans begin” reaction. I’m feeling pretty good about that.