song of the day: spooky girlfriend/ elvis costello
word of the day: quaquaversal / 1, dipping in all directions, dome like. 2, turned or pointing in every direction
the saga continues. $3500 into fixing my miniature bathroom (most of that is plumber bills), i had tiled the floor and installed the bath tub and toilet. fill it up. bath tub leaks. take a piss, flush it down. toilet leaks. toilet and bathtub, leaking, shall we say...sympathico? the plumber is coming back tomorrow. what? did i just say the plumber is coming back tomorrow? well, that will cost a fortune...HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. oh, what's one more day shitting in boxes and not bathing or showering.
it's a right of passage, yo'. what would E.J. Gold say about all this? what chamber of the Labyrinth am i in now? i just looked up and saw the breathing meditator being on the top right of my web site (did you ever notice that thing breathes? watch...) and i feel so thankful to work with matt and dave, and all the people who have put the love out there.
it snowed here this week, quite a lot actually and it reminds me of Minnesota. it's funny how some things you carry forever, growing up in Minnesota, playing hockey all winter throughout my childhood, every time i smell the inside of a car with the heater on when it's really cold, or any time i'm outside in the snow- all those winter moments send me right back to being 12 years old on an outdoor ice rink. cold, crisp air with the aural senses muted by snow transports me back into the body of a boy playing hockey outside. it's interesting to note that it's always the outdoor practices, the outdoor games that i remember, and not the indoor ones even though the vast majority of our practices (and all of our league games) were indoors. something about the outdoors just made such a strong imprint in my body and sense and emotions. the emotion that accompanies that memory is this bittersweet ache, it's a very unusual combination of exposure to the elements and being enveloped by the soft, downy snow and quieted winter world around me. it's something missed by people who haven't grown up somewhere with a lot of snow- your sense of hearing (your experience of sound) changes when everything is buried in soft, new snow. muted. it creates a very soft, intoxicating compression in your ears, then your head, then your stomach. i used to get butterflies, sweet ticklish feelings in the center of my belly when i would be out at night skating after a new snow. sometimes i stayed till everyone was gone (i used to work as an ice rink attendant for the city of Lakeville, MN) and then shut off all the lights and lay on my back in the quiet and cold. tucked in the folds of an enormous white envelope, whatching my breath rise and dissipate into the silent black canvas of the january sky. then i would get a cramp in my toes which could not be reached, cuz my hockey skates were taped on like casts, and the steel toe boot pretty much ruled out manipulating any cramping tendons. a bit of writhing on the ice, skate it off.
now i wonder what my daughters memories of winter will be. the smell of our fireplace? watching the snow fall from out the windows? our christmas tree lights?
