(no subject)

On my commute into work today, I saw Ernest Hemmingway driving a Cadillac.

The Friday Herd O' Five

1. What's on top of your refrigerator?
A stack of napkins, a couple large pots, an antique ice crusher, and hot dog buns.

2. What's your favorite meal of the day?
Dinner.

3. Wash dishes by hand or in the dishwasher?
Dishwasher (but I'm one of those weird people that wash the dishes almost clean before putting them in the dishwasher)

4. How often do you eat out compared to eating in?
On average, I eat out once or twice a week. Some weeks, more, some weeks less. Depends on cash, time, travel, social need, and whether I feel like cooking.

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend?
Fishing in Florida. I need to catch whatever fish that was that kept eating through my line.

(no subject)

There is a time precisely 15 minutes after sundown when the human eye transitions from the chromatic, stereoscopic eye of the diurnal primate, to the monochromatic, flat, nocturnal eye of the little furry rodents that used to scurry under the feet of dinosaurs and snack on their eggs. There is a psychological transition, too, from day into night, but I've always believed the resetting of the eye's "operation mode" was the key trigger.

I was driving tonight at 9PM, which falls at that sundown period here on the western edge of Eastern Daylight Time. Humanity has never truly embraced diurnal vs. nocturnal -- the natural sleep cycle of our ancestors may actually have been four hours on, four hours off, spaced more or less sequentially throughout the twenty-four. These days, color and depth surround us at any point on the clock. Does this harm us, or evolve us? I've never trusted those who think our evolution raises us above the primal, just as I've never trusted those who solely embrace the primal and reject the call of potential. We, all of us, are both balance and paradox in nearly everything we are.

I stopped in my favorite haunt and had dinner. Tomatoes and cucumbers in a basil vinaigrette topped with shavings of goat cheese, followed by crab-stuffed shrimp over a greek salad. I've been craving green lately, a balance and paradox to some life stress; minor in the scheme of things yet all (so-to-speak) consuming in the scheme of my body's immediate diet.

There was a Russian guitarist named Sasha, playing in the corner of the lounge. His music reminded me strongly of 1960's Dick Dale -- SoCal surf guitar with a dual influence of Mexican and Eastern European. He played a seven-string acoustic, picking the bass with his thumb as his fingers played the melody. Complex, skilled, yet some melodies were too simple, almost obviously beneath his potential. Filling several hours of bar time is no small task, but he wasn't always...on.

In six hours, I will wake and fly to Florida, for a quick weekend. This weekend is also the one-year mark of the end of my marriage. Transition is foremost in my mind, but dwelling on the past is not. I have regrets; big-time, soul-questioning regrets. I have peace; all-encompassing and life-transforming peace. Balance and paradox -- my life is order and chaos.

I am the very image of the universe itself.