[Above photo: A Frosty track, one less travelled, through the woods at Pinelands. ]
20 February 2022
Tuesday will be 2.22.22. Not quite 2.22.2222 but I won’t be around then. I’m surprised and happy to be around now. I recall as a kid marking 5.5.55, sure that I would recall forever exactly what I was doing and what my thoughts were on that day. I was about to finish my first year at East Denver High School. I think I also noted 6.6.66, when I would have just graduated from medical school. These are sort of like birthdays or Christmas, especial weight being given to an otherwise ordinary passage of 24 hours. It is a good thing to mark and ritualize our days, I think. Especially for those whose days are routine, even mundane. I realize that without the structure of a job, I can fritter away 24 hours and accomplish nada. It isn’t how I want to complete my transit here on Earth. It is so much more fun to have a mission, an event-filled life. Like seasons, variety does spice it up. I’m sure that has been given as an excuse/explanation for relationship infidelity. And there is some truth in it, even as the proposition doesn’t consider the feelings of the partner. Unless he/she is of the same persuasion, of which tribe I am not. Maybe it is parochial or unevolved of me, given all the buzz about polyamory these days, but I’m just not so constructed. An example of loose associations. Rather, flight of ideas.
I had hoped, in anticipation of spending the year in Portland, to find a friendly watering hole in which to socialize, either a coffee shop or a bar. But I don’t like to drink regularly, so a bar wouldn’t really work. Diet Coke and peanuts in a bar has little appeal. And of the three, count them, coffee shops within a few blocks, one is take-out only with tables outside (a gas station repurposed into a terrific bakery/coffee shop), one feels like a library, attracting a quiet and meditative clientele, and the last, which I like a lot, only serves nitro coffee and matcha lattes. The latter are too sweet and as to the former—-well, I want a cappuccino.
I shall forgo those potential encounters, as I have purchased an espresso machine. It is a small but very capable Swiss-made one—-Solis—with enough bells and whistles to allow me to tinker with the brew. I’m finishing up an older bunch of decaf beans from Trader Joe which leave much to be desired but with which I can still brew a good cappuccino. By controlling the grind, the water temperature, the water volume, and the pressure at the brew-head, I can alter the quality dramatically. I’ll move on to a better quality, and fresher, bean soon.
It gave me pause today when Harold sent me a link to an article about a Finnish Olympic cross country racer who, after finishing his 50km, became aware he had frozen his penis. We won’t be covering such great distances in our Hut2Hut adventure in a few weeks. Nor will we be demanding that all of our blood goes to our muscles, since we won’t be racing. Still…….
Who would have imagined we’d be cheering for Liz Cheney, who has voted with DT more than 90% of the time, who is among the very wealthy far right of the GOP in more ordinary times, and whose parentage includes the Darth Vader of the G W Bush Administration. Rich, heartless conservative stock, but courageous in defying DT and her party.
We can all recall the times we wished we’d kept our mouths shut. Imagine how Rhona McDaniel must feel—-“legitimate political discourse.” Million$ in damage, 5 dead, dozens wounded, feces smeared, feet on desks, a gallows erected for the VP, fur and horns sitting in chairs not theirs, threats and intimidation, etc. It certainly was a communiction but not a discourse and surely something less than legitimate.
If Trump manages to slip through his latest sets of legal troubles unimprisoned, perhaps he should be the next Secretary of State. Not given to negotiation, arrogant and hostile toward our democratic allies, and obsequious toward tyrants he admires, nevertheless he must be the wiliest of Wiley Coyotes. Surely, he could spin Putin’s threats to invade into some sort of personal gold, launching contiguous golf resorts in Belarus and Ukraine, nine holes in each. And when I read that Ivanka, that empty, deprived yet pampered child, is worth $300,000,000 I am convinced that there is wealth, tax, and salary inequity in our country. Yes, here, as unimaginable as that sounds! I do recall some years back that Eurozone CEOs made an average of 40x what the average worker in their company took home. In the US, it was 800x. Sure, Mr. Reagan, great idea. Let’s do away with taxes for the wealthy and governmental regulation of corporations. I’m sure it will float all our boats and keep the climate pristine.
I would urge all of you to listen to the New Yorker’s editor, David Remnick, interview Rep Ocasio-Cortez. She is one smart, strategic, fearless, and excellent person to have on your team. Hardly a bra-burning, fiery-eyed, impulsive, bomb-throwing radical as touted by the Trumpers, she is thoughtful and caring about the working people of this country, as well as minorities and women. Unlike most politicians, who are too terrified of losing their sinecures, she is brave and principled enough to actually represent her constituency’s interests, whatever the personal costs.
Juxtapose her to Tucker Carlson with whom she just had a dust-up, a right-wing entertainer/provocateur who is worth $30 million and stands to inherit much more from his family (his step-mother owned Swanson’s Frozen Dinners). And why exactly, Tucker, should we cosey up to Russia, a bullying dictatorship, rather than Ukraine, a fledgling but genuine democracy which is trying to be friends with the West? Who listens to and believes your hate-filled lies? Many, astoundingly.
Talking today with my nephew, Keith, about his plans to move to Portugal and open a coffee house/café, I began to think what do I want in my surround? I like to take long walks and be surprised by beauty or novelty. That could occur in the wild, as in a place further up the coast. That would be compulsorily solitary, however, as I don’t really want to co-habit at this point. Or, it could be in an interesting/exotic city. I could go to Paris or Florence. Or Porto. Or Bangkok. Or, where I’ve always wanted to stay for a bit, Kyoto. Or, in reality, any grouping of them. Short-stay apartments, Keith assures me, are common and not excessively expensive in Portugal, at least, which he knows. SE Asia is certainly cheap. Japan, I’d have to inquire. Horizons beckon. I can teach online in Myanmar from anywhere.
Speaking of Myanmar, the psychiatrist I consult with weekly in Dawei (Lower Burma) was referred a teen last week. I agree with her that his presentation is most compatible with an organic lesion of some sort. She attempted to order an MRI after she saw him the first time. The only facility for imaging in all of Lower Burma is at a private hospital in Dawei. But apparently there are so many rats at the hospital that they have eaten the insulation off the wires and the machine no longer works. That fact certainly puts my small inconveniences, like not having a good cappuccino near me (until now), into perspective.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 