January 31, 2010, 12:22 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

In the past month I’ve had at least three reactions to low contact with food containing cream. My throat swells a lot, lips tingle, tongue feels a little bigger. Then my heart pounds. Then I get too warm but not flushed, simultaneously shivering if I take off a sweater. Then I feel like throwing up a little bit and maybe my heart goes crazy for a minute and I get just slightly faint from what I now know is a rapid drop in blood pressure.

I don’t know how many dairy products it involves. Butter and cheese don’t appear to have any effect, not yet.

I haven’t seen a doctor yet because I didn’t really believe it until today, when I dipped the tip of my index finger in alfredo sauce and touched it to my tongue, in barely an amount I was able to taste. The reaction was immediate and scared me.

I guess the part that makes me sad, why I didn’t want to believe it, is because it means a lot of things are no longer an option. Before, it was a decision about bearing the consequences, whether to deal with minor allergic symptoms in the name of ice cream or cafe con leche.

It may also mean I become one of those people who can’t eat what’s served to them, who has to special order things in advance and carry an epi pen when dining out.

In the meantime, I’m going to have some sauceless pasta right now (hello garlic and olive oil) and try not to think about it.


exercises in procrastination
January 26, 2010, 6:12 am
Filed under: unrelated thoughts

I’m tired but brought work home with the full and real intention of addressing it. It’s now almost midnight and my well honed evasive techniques are better than ever.

Right now I’m working on increasing my creative capacity in making food. I feel like I could generate more ideas in more areas of my life if I could start to change the way I think in small parts, if I could just learn to let my mind work freely.

Last week I discovered, with L.G., that I live beside an art gallery I didn’t know about. It’s up a flight of stairs, we were waiting for a bus, actually waiting to go search for his wallet which we found without having to take the bus by sheer amazing luck. Looking at the pictures, the artist had a fairly undeveloped style, easily influenced. Like she was trying to understand what she was seeing through the art but wasn’t communicating. Still, there was one picture in the show that just worked absolutely, something about the perspective was perfect, masterful. I wonder if it was the one that kept her painting or just an incident of brilliance along the way; maybe it was the one that finished the show.

She just wanders around, unaffected by
the winter winds, well she’ll pretend that,
she’s somewhere else,
so far and clear, ’bout 10,000 miles from here ..

Apologies for that out of context editorialization of the song. Not really.

I’ve developed this insomnia now that I have to sleep alone.

dot C.O. dot Z.A.
January 24, 2010, 6:00 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

This morning I woke up wondering if I’d have regrets leaving what could be a lucrative proposition if I stuck it out for about five more years. I think part of this comes from having worked a lot of jobs for virtually nothing combined with calculations about what I can possibly save by the time I plan to leave, which feels incredibly long in terms of life and incredibly short in terms of being able to make sure I have enough to survive on.

I came up with two conclusions.

(1) If I disappear until I’m 30, reappear and start working again, I still have 35 years at least to attain the kind of traditionally described success everyone gets all wound up about. If I can’t do it in 35 years I shouldn’t be doing it. If I can’t do it in ten years I shouldn’t be doing it.

(2) I would have far more questions about what life could have been like if I stay. Whether my body and my family would be healthier, whether I could use the skills I have to do something that feels more interesting a productive, whether I could ever develop a really solid bottom turn. Staying effectively destroys the opportunity to pursue any and all of these goals, year by year.

This really isn’t a revalation as one of my friends just quit the biz for at least three years to teach English in an undisclosed but awesome location, but I guess planning to leave is a process of slow-working through things in my head. Maybe there’s too much time, maybe I’m the kind who needs this stuff answered.

The radio streaming just turned on to a mashup involving a lot of Toto’s Africa. Yes, yes yes.

January 23, 2010, 8:57 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

So I got on a bus, and he got on a plane.

Right now he’s heading down for his first surf in almost two months, spending a night at the beach house. The idea of that right now is intoxicating, as I round out month five of a likely thirteen. It’s nearing mirage in desert desperation.

I listen to the radio station that will be playing in his car, streamed on the internet, listening in the night to a country waking up. The kinds of things you do.

Life is funny.

I’m still getting a handle on it.

January 20, 2010, 5:00 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

This apartment is empty. So, so empty.

Oh, Hello There
January 10, 2010, 10:49 pm
Filed under: waves

[Obvious L.G. Hiatus]

December and January, so far, led to making plans. There is a question of how long I can do this/here. I think I will make it to the end of September, a one year run. I don’t really know, given where I’m going, when I will have this kind of steady, reasonable income again after that point, but I think I’m okay with the temporary indeterminacy.

I’m thinking about spending early October to late February at my home on the other side of the world. L.G. finishes his licensing exams, hopefully, at the end of November, and then will join me a while down the road for a couple months of low key surf life. Christmas away. Then we might go spend a couple of years in Aus/NZ, banking on him getting actual work and the fact I can work there for two years with the right paperwork.

Starting in October, creating opportunity to surf every day, for two and a half years. Because that is what I want to do before I’m 30.

This requires eight months of semi monastic voluntary poverty. Given how bleak this town is lately, not so impossible.