中國日兩 (China, Day 2)

Fruit Juice with Fireworks

Chinese Barbeque

I was told this was dog on the menu, we didn't partake, however.

Getting Ready to Eat



Frozen Ice Balls

Ice and Yvonne

Michelle and I in a Paddle Boat

Parasols

Gold Shoes

A Flatiron Building

Is that a Pizza Hut Logo?

Looking down from the Hotel

View from the hotel.

在街上行走的中国第一天(China, Day 2, Crossing the Street)

August 4, 2010, Anshan, China.

I sleep in.

So, on this day I went outside in the daylight, out onto the street. I gradually gained my Asia street feet (remembered from a few weeks in Korea), but not fast enough to satisfy my friend Michelle. It was really clear that she was extremely concerned about my survival. She was grabbing my hand and shouting commands like "Stop" "go," and "Ok." It took a while to start to understand what it takes to do that simple thing; cross the street. with several lanes of traffic in two obvious directions and several lanes of what I call back scatter traffic -- people going the wrong way, or on the sidewalk - or in a way that contradicts expectation. With every possible wheeled object and moving in every possible direction it is clearly dangerous to be a pedestrian.

I looked in the Lonely Planet Guide for advice. "The streets of China kill mercilessly. You will need 360 degree vision to cross the street in China." Clearly true, but not much in the way of advice.

The Chinese people, from my observation, seem a highly cooperative group. I know ... I am making really gross generalizations. I can't help it, because I am suffering from the same thing that ails travellers throughout time. I don't have enough information to make more specific generalizations.

But seriously, the traffic seems choreographed. People work together to get where they are going, avoid accidents, and this is extremely interesting. Honking horns is very popular, in fact, it should be done continuously, or at least every time the vehicle changes directions, or anyone changes directions, or if anyone remotely looks like they are going to get in front of your vehicle. Driving directly into oncoming traffic is kinda popular too, but it is extremely important to honk your horn first, so the oncoming vehicles may drive on the sidewalk in order for you to be able to do it.

It's a melee.



We managed to walk to the park and cross several large busy intersections without seeing anyone get killed. We rode back in a cab. It looked like I might be able to get by, but I was definitely frightened by the thought of having to cross the street.

At one point I remember asking if the cab could pull in to the front of the hotel, because I was afraid to cross the street.

中国第一天 (China Day One)

Capitol Airport, Beijing, China, August 3, 2010

Yeah. I left San Francisco with stuff, headed for Shenyang via Beijing on China Air ... blah, blah, blah ... I had ipod, electric razor, phrase book, guide book, a change of clothes and my flip flops (which I'd like to go back to calling thongs) . I had some gifts (a bottle of wine, some Johnny Walker, chocolates, and basically, way too much stuff. Oh and a few thousand Yuan. I think I knew as soon as I was in the plane that I was entering a foreign country. No one was speaking English.

I think we should cover the first few steps though. I got a visa in San Francisco at the Consulate of the People's Rrepublic of China. I went the standard route, multi-entry, good for a year, takes 4 days, $150. Four days counts like this -- today, tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday -- so four days from Monday at 4 PM is Thursday at 9 AM. It is possible to pay more and get your visa on the same day. I didn't do this and ultimately, because of the short timing of my trip, I probably paid more for my air fare, because I waited till my visa was approved before I bought my air tickets.

As I said, no one was speaking English, my language of choice. The food on the plane was American though. Air travel, for the most part, sucks. If you fly from the US to China on Air China, I think your flight will be full. It will be filled with Chinese people. As I learned in 10 days there, Chinese people are pretty cooperative, so the flight will be pretty comfortable. For a flight. I managed to sleep for 47 seconds.


I was nervous about my trip. Here I was flying to meet someone I knew, but not really well. To China and into a place where I know I am in a more remote China, an English free China. And I have a Mandarin application on my phone -- language tapes on my Ipod, and the phrase book. I am pretty sure I can navigate to a hotel in Beijing, but beyond that, I am feeling very unsure. I imagine myself arriving at midnight, my phone doesn't work, and something happens to my friend and she doesn't show. I tell myself that is not going to happen. I tell myself ... "you've been to Asia twice, you can handle it ... you know what to do."

In Beijing I had to pick up my bag -- it was a bit confusing. In San Francisco they told me that my bag would go to Shenyang. When I asked at the airport in Beijing, they informed me to get my bag from the baggage claim and take it to customs. The customs agent looked at me and waved me by. In China -- it always seemed to me to be unorganized, but tremendously efficient. There was a very short line at immigrations and the infra-red screening for illness was done on the fly. and customs was a non event -- so I was instantly sitting and waiting for my next flight.

Beijing was smoggy. I couldn't see the ground from the plane, couldn't see the city from the air, couldn't see the airfield from inside the airport. Seriously, I believe I could see smog inside the uber-modern airport.

I know the trend for Americans is to claim that China has a problem with smog. I think it's a bit short-sighted to do that though. We have farmed out all of our industry, and China has picked up a lot of the extra work. The manufacture things like steel and clothing for many of the world's markets, and as a result they have a lot of the pollution. Since Americans use and benefit from much of that productivity, I think we should go ahead and admit that we are participating in creating that smog as well, and stop acting like it's China's fault "they pollute the world".

It was still pretty gross, and I had an irritated throat from the smog, which started in the Airport in Beijing.




Duck Tongues


In China flights board one-half hour before lift off. I got on the plane to Shenyang; when I arrived my friend was there. We drove the hour drive to Anshan, her hometown, and ate dim sum -- shrimp balls, duck tongues, and a rice soup at some place called San Bao. Interesting to me that the duck tongues had forked bones. Then the hotel.

Show Announcement

China ... Wait for It

Hey everyone. Well, I am back from China; I am healthier, I lost 4 lbs. I feel surprisingly good now that the jet lag has finally worn away. I know you are all sitting on the edges of your chairs waiting for the blow-by-blow. I would have done it from China -- but guess what. There's no blogger in China.

I am sure you'll all agree that it's pretty obvious that I am a dissident, inciting unrest in China from my lounger in America with my limited citizen Journalist powers. It's pretty obvious after all, because I am an American. Which is why the Chinese government's censorship, or the failing of the Google Empire to secure righteous placement in China for my blog, has left me powerless to speak to the Chinese people from America, or even something as innocuous as showing my American friends what I ate in China via blogger from the lobby of the Global Hotel in Anshan, China, where it appears ... there is absolutely nothing to spy on. I couldn't find a single military installation, or even a police officer, or anyone official, of which to try to take pictures. Not only that -- but it was pretty flooded, so I couldn't even try to sneak in to North Korea. I've already been censored, which has never happened before (I can't send my new 14 year old friend links to my blog to show him about myself). Seriously, in my imaginative mind, I fear even the slightest bit of criticism of the Chinese government's policy towards internet censorship, could result in my being denied entry, which for me, would be a tragedy. As you will see, I had a great time and I will want to go back.

This is not a joking matter actually. I did get interrogated a bit by hotel security the day after I uploaded a few hundred megs of vacation photos to my flickr account. There is no facebook in China. No blogger. I did detect signs of opinion, righteous indignation, even. I also saw a lot of the symptoms of personal affluence ... and you know where that leads. It leads to having an opinion. I was able to post to facebook and get all of my communication using my Blackberry, and my international data plan, and read whatever I liked. But not write to my blog. So if you want to be a spy ...

I had a remarkably good time. Eating was very popular, and as you all know, I love to eat. I think I fell in love in China, in love with an ancient, spirited place, filled with welcome and care, and filled with splendid hosts. I met remarkable people -- like the 14 year old boy who spoke English and wanted my to be his pen pal in America. Or the young man I met on the trail, who invited me to join him to visit his home in Harbin. Or the various people who eagerly join my friend and excellent host to take me around, take me out onto the streets, to clubs, take me to National Parks and share their homes and lives with me. It is a challenging and exciting place.

"When will you visit China again?" was a popular question I was asked; If I am invited, I definitely will come back.

China

Yes China. I am going to China, yes China.

I have a friend who said "Will you come?" And I said yes, definitely, maybe, I don't know, in a completely California way. She sent me a message a few weeks later saying "Why'd you change your mind?"

So I am headed there. Overseas travel is always interesting. China ... from here ... is a bit daunting. First ... It's big. and then they speak Mandarin ... which I can make absolutely no sense of, despite more than a bit of practice. Having no characters in their written language I can recognize doesn't help.

Once I had decided to go, I immediately got a flight, then I had all these little details to work out, the gifts, the visa, changing money, vaccines, figuring out how and what I can bring in and out, converters for my chargers. I felt like a veteran.

My camera. One of the key lenses I use -- the 17-85 mm. It's absolutely done -- failing completely. So I sent it in to Canon to fix. I'll be able to rent a similar lens for my trip. Grumble.

I have booked a flight. I am going to fly to Shenyang in a few days. She is going to meet me. I am a bit nervous. I am packing. I'll be there about 14 days. I think we will return from Beijing ...

Just incidentally that brings my country tally up to 12. 3 continents, 12 countries, 44 states.

China. Yeah!

Artist's Statement For My Show 8/27

In my memory there is a Polaroid photo of a woman in a white dress in the cactus of the Southern California desert, in Joshua tree, in the National Monument..

We take photos of each other with a 15 dollar Polaroid camera as we leave the wilderness, dressed up for our first meal back in civilization.. For 10 days we expose ourselves to the desert. We chase tortoises and phainopepla, and the desert exposes itself to us. We try to see everything. The heat warms us in June, our sweat pools together when our bodies meet. The desert exposes itself to us slowly. Bloody scars from the agave show on our legs. Our skin and lips are dry, parched. Before the photo we bathe nude under the pump at Cottonwood Springs and change into some clean clothes.

Grilled “Coyote,” That's what the menu says today, so I order it. I mean today like last week. We are at Joshua Tree National park to climb and hang out, and again it's June. A crazy-looking old guy asks me if I'm going into the “monument” ... later I find a crazy bead man while setting up top ropes with my friends above the grave of Gram Parsons. It's really hot. We get busted by the ranger for setting up a shower tied to vegetation. We tie it up climber style to a big rock – and laugh.

There's a story in this show about my journey to an intimate American landscape. It's a journey to some great places, sacred places, some very remote and hard to get to, some delightfully special, some sort of everyday. It's a journey to gila monsters and the quiet places of the world. To the bustling inner city paradise. This journey has covered the states – it's been to thunderstorms, to raging rivers, to floods, to find wild berries, and to the homes and camps of great friends and exceptional people.

“I was in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
'Come in' she said
'I'll give you shelter from the storm'"

High Sierra Day

Sprinted off last night for a quick trip up to the High Sierras to look over the snowmelt, check on the fishing -- and snoop out some deer sightings. We saw six or eight deer (6), four or five outhouses and caught very few (0) fish and hiked more miles than I would have liked.

We camped at Hermit Valley under a full moon and fished this morning on the Mokelumne river. The water was pretty high and it was difficult fishing. Things that were normally out of the water were submerged and pocket water was transformed to something else all together. I thnk have managed a strike on a beadhead ... let's just say, there are no bragging rights.

Later in the day, we tried to drive out to Highland Lakes on the Stanislaus river drainage and check out some deer spots for the fall. The road had quite a bit of snow on it so we decided to walk. We never did quite make it out to Highland Lakes, but it was a pretty good hike. I did take this one picture though. Does anyone know what this plant is?

Beads of ...

... perspiration. I spent 5 days in Joshua Tree National Park last week with friends. We went hiking and climbing, cooked, watched the moon wane, heard coyotes sing, and bouldered in the asteroid belt. It was hot, dry, and ... well ... hot.


Fire Damage




Collared Lizard(?)




Joshua Tree


Kenny on Manx

I set up my first ever top rope on Cap Rock.

We inadvertently bootlegged a camp in the closed section of Indian Cove campground and got thrown out. We set up a shower in our camp in Hidden Valley and the ranger came by and busted us, saying, "You can't tie anything to the vegetation" (as far as I recall in Yosemite that's OK). We tied up a big sling and tied it to that, rock climber style.

Lily and Amy brought us dry ice, which froze everything, which meant we ate strange things like frozen grapes, which were unbelievable.


Fallen Angel

We met a guy, the bead man, at Cap Rock, who was looking for the grave site of Gram Parsons, which we all found. We help him find the site, so he gave us all a string of beads ... "Beads of accomplishment," according to Lily. He was wandering the planet carrying his brother's ashes, "I'm taking him everywhere."

We climbed at Manx boulder.

It was a great trip, despite the heat, shredded knees and fingertips ... beads of inspiration.


21 Palms Oasis

Cottonwood Oasis


Ocotillo


Burnt Joshua Tree from a fire on the way to Lost Horse Mine


Arch Rock


Amy


Lily

Gone Fishing ...

I am getting ready for some tavel which includes fishing ... so I have been going through my gear. Several things were pretty obvious right of the bat, my 5 piece Winston 3 weight rod is packed in a steel and brass container -- indestructable yes, but quite heavy, and my eight weight bass rod has no case at all. Nothing at all against Winston -- but packing thier rod in a bullet proof case is good for them, since they offer a lifetime full replacement guarentee. The case weighs almost a pound (15.5 oz.). and is 3 inches longer than the rod.

So off I went to work on a solution. Since I recently put a "Gone Fishing" sign up in my window and have virtually no worries for the next few months, I have time for stuff like this. I went off to the local chain fisherperson supply store looking for a new case for both. For the eight weight I found a simple 48" case and trimmed it down to match the 3 piece length of 29 inches, expoxied one of the old caps in place and voila, it's done.

For the 5 piece rod I found a small adjustable tube case, about two inches in diameter, and cut it down to 21 inches. In doing this I reduced the weight by 10.5 oz. and reduced the length of the case over the original by 2 and 3/4 inches. Awesome - and the whole business with the reel weighs just 14.6 oz.

Umm ... I am going fishing.

Here I Love You

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.


Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

Pablo Neruda, 1959.

Camp Quinebarge

This is reposted from my website circa 1997.

Camp Quinebarge in Center Harbor, New Hampshire. Located on Lake Kanatsatka in the Lakes Region, Camp Q is home for many young people for seven weeks each summer. While at Camp Quinebarge, the campers, and the counselors, instructors, and administrators, find a rich and rewarding experience. During the Summer of 1996, I had the pleasure of teaching Primitive Ceramics, for about four hours each day. I found the opportunity to influence and touch so many lives to be worth the effort, and often I wish I could do it often, in favor of what I am typically doing.

In some unique way this experience reinforced my fundamental belief that teaching art involves the cultivation of a way of doing and being that ultimately reaches back through history at least to the point where humanity first discovered that the dirt under the cook fire had fused together to form a bowl., and reaches inward towards a heart that yearns to speak.

Discovering that it's fairly easy to form a simple vessel with your hands and the earth and wood that's readily available, enables us to draw on this vast history when creating Art. And it allows us to understand and give a form to our existence, our emotions, one in which we are confident, self-reliant, and can have at least a smattering of pride.

We discovered in that earth and fire that it was possible to have a great deal of fun and to make friends with ourselves, with each other, and with the earth that stood before us. We learned about the clay, about history and myth surrounding it, about an ancient tradition of making art. And after that we all went for a swim.

... Back on the Road

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't been riding my bike all that much. Some things have changed ... My job, for example. I have a somewhat nasty 12 mile bike ride to get to work plus a 45 minute train ride -- meaning 3-4 hours of commute everyday ... If I drive it's only 35 minutes.

My bike bag has been gone. For quite awhile. Which means a backpack (umm ... no), or the crap bag made by timbuktu&trade (again no). Or not being able to carry anything on my road bike. Despite having a couple of mountain bikes ... as soon as I had a decent messenger bag I took the racks off my bikes and gave them away. They never were all that good at carrying my stuff -- a computer, a stack of groceries, and so on.

SO today I bought a new Chrome Citizen, just like my old one. It has some new features, like the insertable laptop cozy, keyring loop, light attachment point, and new phone and Ipod carrier. Generally it's the same awesome bag, but strictly for righties (left shoulder?) ... never mind us goofy footed bastards. I bought one anyway, figuring it would be good to try it on the dark side. It could take awhile to grab my bag, swing it on, clip the buckle, stick my left foot in and cowboy it all up on to my steed, but I'll get the hang of it. C'est le vie.

Yesterday, at the gym ... I was doing the fly with like a 12 on the weight scale markings and I surprised something in my chest and it responded with a popping sound and some pain ... And I noticed the weather outside was suprisingly good. Like 70 degrees, sun, slight breeze, you know ... the barefoot me in shorts everywhere weather. Pass me a whine cooler. Winter, it seems, is fading. And so is weight lifting. I tried to row a thousand meters on the machine in my typical 5 minutes ... and I looked outside again. I went down stairs and got into the hot tub.

SO today I rolled my road bike out of it's winter hiding place. Added new stuff to it's bike bag, watered up the drinking bottle. Put my bike bag stuff in the new bike bag. Called up my bike riding buddy. "I think it's time for a ride," I said stupidly.

We rode 13 miles, and stopped for sushi in the middle. We rode back in the dark ... and it was really dark. Not too bad for the first ride in a while. A good start to the Spring.

The Dating Lesson

I guess I am dating ... It's more than a bit stressful, actually. It kind of snuck up on me, dating. Previously, I always liked to try to find a dating loophole (think Elaine in Seinfeld). The problem with dating loopholes, is they aren't actually dates. If I go out with friends to blah blah blah, or visit someone I like at blah, blah, blah, or casually lunch with so and so at work it's not really a date. So, no pressure. And no romance, and no reward, and no second date. If I don't admit they are dates, the likelihood of failure drops substantially, but so does the likelihood of success. No date, no prizes. Sure, I like you. I am pretty busy. Yes, (maybe) we can be friends. If it's not a date, then actually, I don't want to that much.

The problem with dating is that it's dating. There's a bunch of pressure to be Mr. Right, to be smart, to know how to behave, and to know what's the cool thing to do. I was at the grocery store tonight and this woman was retelling a horrible first date story, and it's brutal. The guy, that guy, didn't stand a chance, but not because of the woman, he didn't listen, basically wasn't dialed in at all, and didn't even know how to pay for dinner politely (I mean without being inadvertently insulting). He missed at every opportunity to succeed.

It's hard to be the guy though. I am supposed to know where to go, what's cool to do, and when and if I should offer to pay for everything. So I feel a little bit for that guy. But not that much. He obviously didn't catch the subtle clues, do his homework, or really appreciate his predicament. I am not sure I did any better on any of my efforts last week. I had one date -- that wasn't actually a date. I met one woman at a funeral and managed to figure out how to go to where she works and try to ... well I don't know ... get a date (I have been reduced to stalking). Another person didn't show actually, and the third, well it went better than that guy. At least I knew how to pay for everything. And to give my date some credit, she wasn't too hard on me for having absolutely no idea what I am doing.

Aside from last week, I think the last real date I went on was in 2001 ... So, maybe I am a bit rusty. I'm 51. I was married for ten years, had a couple of romances in college ... have had all of about a dozen real dates in my life, if you count the prom, so maybe I never was all that good at it. In addition to being dialed in to a substantial career, having two kids in college, being a ambitious photographer and wilderness adventurer, I am supposed to know where the great place to eat is, have reservations, and know where the good place for Margaritas, despite real indicators that my date isn't going all that well, and do it without a kayak, hiking, riding a bike, being able to eat raw fish (or use any other superpowers).

I am supposed to do all this, even though I never really cared all that much for dating. I like sex (go figure), girlfriends, love, partnership, marriage, family, and to be committed to these things. But dating, not so much. Being on the spot, hair combed, clean shirt, best behavior, funny, charming, smart, with a plan, and a back up plan. I am not sure I am up to the job. It's pretty clear that I need to sharpen up my game. After having heard the review of that guy, I am sure I am in a lot better shape than he is, my date actually might want to go out again. Imagine what he feels like.

Wondering ...

When I should let my friends in the Twin Cities know that I am planning a trip that includes me being dropped off at MSP in May with my bike.

What d'y'all think?

Bad Things Happen in Threes

That's what my great-grandmother always said. Today, two people I know passed. One, a person who has been a part of my life since my earliest memories, whose children were my playmates, and friends. Our friendships were there all the time, but when something like this happens ... the strength of those life-long friendships rises to the surface, tears flow, bonds renew ... She was my next door neighbor for most of my early life, for 20 plus years. She ran a catering business from there, which grew up to be a restaurant later. A restaurant I frequent and enjoy. I think she's been feeding me once a week or so since I was about two. There's no question, she's been a powerful figure in my community for my entire life. The loss is immeasurable. My heart goes out to my life long friends.

It's not just my community though. A huge number of people I know have been there, met her, know the joy. So many people around me have expressed their sadness at her passing, people I never knew were there, never imagined would have known her. We'll need to find a way to carry on.

Two -- Franchot, a man I barely know, a patron of a cafe I frequent, passed away today. I don't really care about the details. We talked often, he took an unique interest in me, in what I was doing, in the things I was doing, in a way that let me feel as if he was my friend. I looked forward to seeing him. He was a good man. He cared. A friendship cut so short. What a tragedy.

And for me -- I've been inspired by watching the Olympics. I went to the gym last night and worked out hard. All my junk hurts today. I've been getting flabby. I decided I need to start to ride my bike more -- so I took the Surly to work in my truck. I rode at lunch. 9 miles. It was good. I hurt, but I feel good.

Now, about what my grandmother said ... I'm waiting for that third thing. That third bad thing.

I Saw Your Ads Toyota ...

... where you claim to want to restore my confidence in your quality product. You have a long way to go. I noticed the picture of the 70's era Land Cruiser inspiring me to want to own one of your tough vehicles. It's not working really. Those pictures, those suggestions of happy families; those are of old cars, an old Toyota -- that's not me and my car.

I am the guy whose always scraping together an extra grand to get his car maintained. I am the guy that goes to Toyota to pay a couple of hundred bucks to have a guy explain how the air conditioner is working the way it originally did, even though we all know better.

I remember after I drove my truck though some water 18 inches deep for a while and then the slave cylinder on the clutch failed, which isn't that unusual (or is it?), that the Toyota dealer (2 actually) told me he couldn't find anything wrong, even though the clutch pedal randomly collapsed to the floor and stayed there while driving. When this happens it is important to reach down and pull it back up to it's normal position, which is what some people are telling Toyota owners they might want to do to their gas pedal while there car is speeding ahead. Lucky for me the local mechanic was able to diagnose and fix the problem with my clutch.

I remember seeing those Kurdish Toyota trucks, with the machine guns mounted on them, tearing up the desert and wonder if they had to stop and turn back during a mission because their steering rack failed in the middle of a trip. I am sorry, the romance of it all just isn't getting through to me. The quality of your cars, I am thinking ... it's just not there.

My truck is a 2003 Tacoma, and the real story is about the electronic throttle controller, my gas pedal. When it first started behaving erratically, my car had about 90,000 miles on it. The primary symptom was that the acceleration would disappear randomly while accelerating, particularly at freeway speed.

So I took it to the dealer, several, in fact. Superstition Toyota in Mesa Arizona, Toyota 101 in Redwood City, California, and City Toyota in South San Francisco. Repeatedly I was told that they couldn't find a problem ... bring it back if it gets worse. SO finally I took it to the independent Toyota Shop (C&T, in San Mateo, CA), and they diagnosed and found the problem, a faulty throttle motor controller, a part which costs about 1300 dollars. I am sure this is why Toyota didn't want to find the problem. C&T found me a used one which they installed for much less, and it's been running well since.

The problem that I see isn't so much that the quality isn't there (it obviously isn't), but to have seemingly reasonable people tell me that there's nothing wrong with my car, when there clearly is, is definitely a problem. In fact, denial of the problems with Toyota vehicles seem to go way beyond my car and the three or four dealers I have dealt with, it seems to stem from the very top level of the company. Listening to the news reports leaves me thinking that Toyota knew there were problems with their cars, dangerous problems, and categorically denied the problems at a time when full disclosure seemed imperative.

It's really easy for me to believe this since they have repeated done this -- denying there's a problem -- about every problem I have brought to them.

Your advertisements are good Toyota, but I feel that you are trying to whitewash a somewhat dire situation. It's hard to believe the sincerity of the ads, when your mechanics and service advisors have been standing in front of me, telling me it's fine when it isn't, on a regular basis for several years.

Personally, after this car, I don't think I'll ever own a Toyota again.

In The Wild ... With Other Sublime Fish.

So I had a long protracted conversation while eating raw fish earlier today. And we talked about whales and sharks, and monkeys, and predation ... and intelligence. And intra-uterine cannibalism.

Then I brought up the sublime. Friedrich's Monk at the Seashore. One man standing before the storm. Dylan, singing Shelter from the Storm, trading for a lethal does of salvation, Rothko's void, a terminal abyss we may all have stood before. It's a common theme in my early writings, man's tendency to isolate himself from the wilderness. The ocean in Friedrich's painting, is just beyond the monk, hence the sublimity of it, the storm is held at bay, which I submit, is quite delightful. Rothko's glimpses into the void remind us that we haven't fallen in, we haven't submitted to our desire. My early arguments for the void were sophisticated, quoting Foucault, Lyotard, even Carlos Fuentes, I wove a complicated treatise into the sublime, a treatise of fear.

I had no idea then that knafeh even existed. Knafeh is effing sublime. Dante's gluttony. It is so exquisite, so rich, such a wilderness of joy that one might fall to it. As my friend Carol said, "I think I'll cry." Without help, I surely would have succumbed. It is a succubus. I should have died.

So what's the point of all this? To discuss the merits of some other dessert? No.

Our conversation was regarding the high intelligence of Orcas. I brought up the sublime in order to emphasize the idea that we believe ourselves to be separate from nature, to be separate from the animals, to be separate from the wilderness. We are capable of creating constructs to support our beliefs that we are spiritual, intelligent, philosophical beings, and therefore not animals. By "we," of course, I mean the "bright" people in the "West." We are not really in the wild. We are civilized.

I ate a squid the other day, grilled, no less. Ika Shioyaki. I felt like an animal. We are clearly at or near the top of the food chain. Very few other animals would find us to be food. Crows. Vultures, sharks, coyote, polar bears, mountains lions, wolves perhaps. Orcas? I have trouble making sense of the natural order of things. I feel like an animal. Yet we, as a society, have separated ourselves from the animals.

In doing this, we have explained so much. Our management of the animals, the wild lands, the landscape. Our justification of our own intellectual superiority. Our insistence into the management of all of the wild aspects of the earth. We explain our existence, our raison d'etre, as caretakers of this place, the Earth. Haven't we made a few presumptions? Sure, we should take of this place. But, are we sure we are right?

I am in a wilderness, yet I am not an animal. Go figure.

Eating Right

So I went to the doctor a while ago ... who claimed I was pre-diabetic (fasting sugar > 100, me @103). ... and so on ... till Dr. Lorenzato recommended the Paleo diet. Let's review the Paleo diet ... cave-man food, fruits nuts, berries, the occasional cat, meat and fish, and wild meat or fish if you can get it, yeta, yeta, yeta, and no grains agricultural products. It's a grain free diet -- with little or no veggies.

"That's kinda radical," claims one of my friends, "you'll starve." My fitness guru was surprised, "You have a doctor recommending the Paleo diet? Where did you find him?" He's the son of one of my early mentors, and I accidentally picked him out of the phone book. Blah, blah, blah. I claim.

I love food. Since I stopped smoking and started to exercise, I eat. So much so, so aggressively, that some people hint that I might have a tapeworm. I'm typically famished. And people saying things like, "I had to stop and eat on the way so I could order some thing good, rather than the largest thing on the menu" do not surprise, nor do statements like, "That looks like it's about what you normally eat, maybe you should put more in there so the rest of us can eat." I would usually rather eat. Everything is better with butter.

I went to visit my friend, let's call her Rose, who was on a meat only diet. Sort of Paleo gone arctic. Atkins with a "NO." Yeah -- meat. The good, the bad, and the ugly. She looks healthier than I have ever known. Go meat.

So I have pushing my diet towards meat, ever inspired by this quote from Left for Dead by Beck Weathers, and by my cave-man friends:

"... Two interesting things happened the next day. A wolf ran out on the trail.
One of the Dani (New Guinea Tribesman) whipped out his bow. ... and dropped the
wolf in mid-stride....Then he and the rest of them fell on the animal and ate it
raw. ... They wolfed him down."

"They wolfed him down." That's how I want to eat. It's how I do eat. It's pretty hard though. Order a chicken salad and it's filled with shitty white bread croutons, sugary dressing. Eat sushi and it plonked down on rice. It's a wide spread conspiracy to pack your body with cheap ugly calories, pasta. As Julia Childs' said, "It's starch." Intended to fill you up.

Despite all the failings, my failings, it's working, the Paleo diet. I am at 154 lbs and holding. My joints don't hurt. I feel good.

Weekend in Paradise

It was a promising weekend. Two days and two nights camping in Yosemite, with a potential for snow in the valley. My friend and I both have new tents, so here was a chance to test them out, and test our mettle a bit. It was probably going to be freezing or below on both nights.

Sunday Skiing. 6 miles total, out to the Bridalveil Campgrond on Glacier Point Road for about 6 miles total. In the afternoon it snowed enough to get us a little wet and slow down our skis.

Monday we went for a hike out to the Snow Creek trailhead and back from HappyIsles, for what I think is about a 6 mile trip. It rained continously on Monday, including all the time of the hike and all the time spent pack and all the time traveling home.

Drying out my gear in the living room. I burned a crapload of calories this weekend, and I am still hungry.