I have decided what I want for Christmas -
a Heath Ledger and Orlando Bloom sandwich.

[ ME ]

Am reading a great book - Haruki Murakami's "Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World" It's beautiful and smart and funny. Sexy even. Am about halfway through and it's still hard to say exactly what it's about. This is because I am quite certain that I'm only seeing a tiny fraction of the whole picture - like looking through a pinhole camera at a landscape. The gist? For the most part its a straight forward mystery about information age espionage punctuated by this weird sorta mystical tale of a city of dreams, mythic beasts (unicorns. no kidding!) and imprisoned shadows. Chapter after chapter you move between them, back and forth between two parallel stories/worlds. The language, scenarios, the quick switches from one world to the next, all propel you through the first 20 chapters with astonishing speed and believe it or not clarity. (heh. I am reading the little write up on the back of the book and the tale is refereed to a "narrative particle accelerator" That's very accurate really.) SO, there you are with three mysteries on your hands. What has our hero gotten himself mixed up in? Where and why is this strange city? And of course, what is the connection?

Lord, does that even do it justice? Actually at this point, half way through the book, that's exactly what its about. Ostensibly no more or less, but then there is that landscape through a pinhole thing. It's implied by the story for certain. By the third chapter you already realize you are dealing with more then what is being spoon fed to you line by line. The simple juxtaposition of the two worlds is telling enough. Murakami has this truly talented way of dropping the most subtle of hints. Subtle enough that you wonder if it's a hint at all. Or even better is his use of clues so blatantly obvious they seem absurd and unthinkable. But the landscape? This is fascinating - Everything Murakami does, everything he reveals and that which he (I am certain intentionally) does not, lends itself to your own internal story telling. You create the story's larger landscape on your own. Ironic considering all the map making going on in the alternate (even chaptered) story... or perhaps directly related to it. Your knowledge of the story seems as useful but also as frustratingly vague as map made by the shadowless man stuck in the walled mystery city. You make the assumptions that validate or discredit the parallels and deeper meanings behind the plot(s) just like our poor real world (odd chaptered) protagonist who is chin deep in this dangerous conspiracy betwixt a mad scientist and two information empires, one big brother the other black market.

At least at this point, half way through, I am doing all that. Maybe everybody does that half way through any book. Maybe I have just never been so aware of it before. I cant say for sure, but I have this bizarre half imagined meta-story welling up in my brain and its impossible for me to think about the richness of that tale or more importantly, the mental processes used to conceive of it without thinking that I am trapped in the story in my own way. Behind the wall as it was. Go Murakami.

Well that may not have made any sense at all and I may have to revise every damn idea I have after I finish the book, but in any case, I am keeping an eye on my shadow.

My interventional radiologist is the MAN.

My interventional radiologist called me on monday to ask if he could discuss my case with the world renowned expert on my stupid disorder. This highfalutin yale doctor was in philly two days ago to talk with penn about getting their clinic started. A clinic where my interventional radiologist is gonna play a major role in practice and research.

My interventional radiologist, more then anyone else, is interested in making sure I got the best treatment. He explained that he wanted to discuss my case with this famous yale doctor, so he could be sure that I had been given the best care imaginable. Let is be known that while I was under his care I received the finest, most stress free attention of any of my (many) hospital stays. It's true.

My interventional radiologist is also the only doctor that has considered all my tests and symptoms together (lung x-rays, shunt tests, dizzy spells, pleurisy, and brain MRIs) and is trying to figure out what it all means and how I should be treated in the future.

I like that.

Don't you wish you had my interventional radiologist?

PS - My interventional radiologist is also the only man that has ever touched my heart ...literally... Ok so, he did it with a tube, but what of that? He did it.

UGH. I am truly useless. I once again have been foiled by my linux box. I have never once successfully installed anything on this machine. Everything of any importance was already there or added by a person worlds more intelligent then myself.

And you know, I am totally ashamed of the fact that I am as incompetent with this operation system as the most pitiful Windows users are on their computers. Its embarrassing. I am a disgrace and should never again be allowed to wear my cute Tux babydolltee in public.

I don't have anything else to say. I just needed to get that off my chest.

Dear whomever left the unmarked video tape of three hours of 1960's German softcore porn in my living room amongst the piles of otherwise innocuous unmarked video tapes,

Thanks.

love,
mars

How I dig myself a deeper hole. Example 2349:

Here's the set up - I am home for Thanksgiving and after a dinner we are all sitting around the kitchen table. Jeopardy is on. Like with so many american families, Jeopardy spurs on an unwitting competition in us. We play against each other, trying to answer correctly as many times as possible - very loudly and rarely, if ever in the form of a question. I was initially confident as I had answered a bunch of clues right off. The category 15 letter words was causing me a great deal of difficulty however. As you know, I can scarcely spell a word correctly let alone guess how many letters I am dealing with. So naturally, I was getting a bit annoyed with myself because with every passing attempt, I muck it up. Oh, but who am I kidding? What transpired had nothing to do with my frustration over missing several consecutive questions!

Witness - Alex begins reading a clue, "This drug, also knows as Speed..." and before he can even get to the part about "is also used in appetite suppressants" I have screamed with surprising enthusiasm, that which accidentally goes beyond HEY-I-finally-know-an-answer,

"METHAMPHETAMINES"

The kitchen is silent. The Jeopardy contestants are silent. The buzzer goes off and Alex confirms that Meth was indeed the correct drug. I squirm. "I cant believe nobody got that..." My mother does not even give me a chance to finish, "I guess they don't do drugs." she states very clearly, her eyes burning into the back of my head. The kitchen is silent again. I mumble something about how many other drugs could possibly have 15 letters, but the point is lost. There doesn't seem to be any thing appropriate or skillful to say at this moment. Playing off the Speed part in favor of the appetite suppressants bent does not seem like a particularly good idea. I am done.

Lesson: don't bring your excitement and fondness for illicit drugs home with you for the holidays... That's what your love of booze is for!

Its been the week of birthdays and a month of parties. There was the Stroke-Off and a slew of halloween parties. Why just this week Tammi celebrated her birth with track-n-turf karaoke (which I missed due to migraine. grrr). Matthew followed with laotian dinner and wine and cake. And last, but not least Kevin finished off the week with a big whacky party. It was a "come as a dead rock star ~or~ a rock star whose career is dead" theme party. I wasn't able to pull off my first choice for costume (due to the length of my hair. grrr), so I ended up being Jeff Buckley's twin sister... it made sense at the time. I swear.

Party Peep Show!

oh, also! - a happy birthday to Marianne.

Dear Cajun Chicken Joint that gave me Salmonella,

Words can not express how much you suck.

sincerely,

mars

Dear Salmonella D,

You are the meanest thing that ever happened to me and I hope you die, you and the other 2,199 members of your genus. You are a big bully and I hate you.

sincerely,

mars

Oh yeah, I forgot.

FOR SCIENCE!

* * *

Following you will find a letter dated 7/18/02, addressed to Roxy Smith of the Penn State Entomology department's Insect Identification Lab.

* * *

Dear Ms Smith,

I work on the 7th floor a very old high-rise building in center city Philadelphia.

Our office suite is cooled by box air conditioners fitted into wood moldings in the large windows. Some weeks ago we began to hear the chatter of baby birds (I ~think~ sparrows) outside the window on the external ledge. Very cute; We were pleased to have them. But then about a week and a half ago as my coworker was leaning against said window sill and air condition he took great displeasure and alarm to find himself covered in literally hundreds of tiny-tiny bugs (specimens contained within jar). We, probably foolishly, hesitated in contacting our building maintenance as we suspected that the only course of action would be the use of insecticide or the removal of the air conditioning unit, both we feared might end in the deaths of our little feathered friends. So for a short time we held our tongues. After several more days passed our birds were fledged and we knew it was time to do something about or other less charming visitors.

During this time we have come to observe that these tiny insects exhibit some rather odd behaviors. They seems to adore the AC unit and the surrounding wood fitting, this is of course where we first found them. They are adventurous! They can be found in great number on the carpet in front of the window (I learned this accidentally while approaching the window with bare feet. eek.) and on the desks and on humans closest to the window (I again happen to be one of the unfortunates). They seem to dislike direct sunlight or at least the heat associated with it, though I believe they are attracted to body heat. They will swarm towards a person, their feet, fingers or clothing, anything which comes in close proximity to them. They also seem to have a fondness for my computer monitor. Perhaps its the warmth there as well? When they are not hiking about and exploring my office, they tend to congregate en masse in shaded areas on the window sill(s). Yes, they even spread to the window on the adjoining wall. They happily do not fly, jump, bite or cause rashes!

Getting to the point, we finally contacted our building maintenance, a veteran of which with one quick glance pronounced, "termites!". Now, I am no expert (that's why I am contacting you), but as a kid playing in the woods, I saw termites. Because of all of this stink, I have searched the web for termite images. I have read up on termites! And of course I cant profess to recognize all 41 US species, but the bets are on and I am saying, "not termites!"

This is were you come in. I hope that the specimens (collected simply by dipping a knickknack laden with these creatures in to a isopropyl alcohol filled urine sample container procured from the doctor's office on the 3rd floor!), will allow you to identify our unwanted guests. I hope too that if that proves difficult that the information about their whereabouts and behavior may assist.

In my most amateur opinion I would guess they are mites of some sort. Though truth be told, they are so small I cant tell if they have 6 or 8 legs! My fear is that they have something to do with the nesting birds and oh how ironic that would be after we saved those little guys for certain disaster! I suspect by the time you receive this package and have had an opportunity to investigate the specimens that their cousins here will have been exterminated. No love lost as far as I am concerned, but I don't think I will ever be satisfied with the diagnosis, "termites"

Please if you are able to identify these creatures, call, write or email me. Your assistance is greatly appreciated and will go a long way towards allaying our fears, suspicions and curiosities!

I await your reply.

* * *

FOR SCIENCE!

sigh.

The Gorey lawyers caught up to me and have asked me to remove the fantod deck as its a "particularly flagrant example of copyright infringement." Sure. Whatever you say. They actually gave me the opportunity to redesign the site to their specifications, which would have basically meant that I could only have displayed 10% of the original art from the deck. I frankly rather not do it at all.

sigh.

HOLY CRAP, I AM A PROM QUEEN Its true. I was voted Queen. At a prom. ha ha. When was the last time you were prom queen? My date, Kassidy, was crowned King and she's the hottest shit this side of anywhere - all tattoos and breasts bound up by suspenders. whoa nellie. And you know, its a strange 10 years too late, but somehow it all makes perfect sense. A huge thankyou to the talented and lovely Hannah.

I returned Castor (as he is now known) to the Big Water today. From my vantage point on the Chestnut street bridge, I watched his tiny little body float down the mighty Schuylkill and toward the sea. Au revoir Poisson!

The Fish is dead. Long live the Fish.

I lost one of the Appetizers last night. He had not been looking so good for the past week or so, his little dorsal fin had been drooping, but I remained hopeful till the end, all the while thinking that he might just pull through. Alas, it was not to be. He had been with us five years. gasp! oh grief!

He was a goodly fish, a king amongst Carassius auratus, a true and kind ray fin if there ever was one. We shall miss him. Tonight the remaining Appetizer (who at this point I believe should receive a new name), Danny Black, Hector Chauncy Urbino, Sport and myself will be holding services and returning the scaly, shinny body of our loved one to the sea.

Now sinks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince;
And schools of angelfish swim thee to thy rest!

Center City Philadelphia, PA. Heat Index: 105°F
Amundsen-Scott Station, Antarctica. Windchill: -98°F

200 degrees. fancy that.