Have you ever felt like Schroedinger's cat? Or maybe not so much that you are the cat, but that your entire life is the experiment? Well anyway, that's how I have been feeling recently. Like there is this awesome state of not-knowing all around me - in me - because of me. But see, any moment now somebody is gonna lift the damn lid and that fancy wavefunction which has kept me going, kept me blissfully unaware for oh so long is just gonna collapse flat. And then the truth will be out - I am either fine or poisoned by the gas. I guess whatever is will be.

tonight is poker night.

In the Heart of the Sea is a fucking car crash, man. Its one of those things - so terrible, so out of control, but you just cant look away. Totally engrossing. There is a lot of really outstanding history to this book and the story of the men on the whaleship Essex. My three favorite truths/speculations are as follows:

During the first leg of their journey, the Essex and her crew stop at the Galapagos Islands. On Hood Island they capture 180 tortoises in the course of 4 days. They later land at Charles Island where Thomas Chappel, a boatsteerer, intentionally lights a fire. Because it is the dry season, nearly the entire island is consumed by flames, claiming countless birds, lizards and of course more tortoises. Charles was in fact the first of all the Galapagos Islands to lose its native tortoises population.

After the Essex sinks (having been stove by a whale) the crew is forced into 3 small whaling boats. They are closest to Tahiti, Marquesas and the Society Islands (30 days sailing, roughly 1500 nautical miles), but they instead turn, largely against the prevailing winds, to attempt a two month, approximately 3000 nautical mile journey east then south to the coast of South America. They do this because they - get this - fear the savage cannibals of these westward islands. In case you are wondering how this smacks of irony; During their 93 day ordeal in those tiny boats, all the surviving crew members of the Essex resort to cannibalism. The men on one boat are even forced to draw lots.

Owen Chase, first mate of the Essex, returns to Nantucket alive and well. He has a successful career as captain but is plagued by headaches and an irrational fear of starvation. He squirrels food away in the attic of his house for the rest of his days. Eventually he goes insane.

The epilogue ends with a most memorable few lines. I made myself read it out loud twice at the bar where I finished the book. Grant it I was drunk at the time, but I have since returned to the paragraph sober and still feel that I appreciate it greatly. Philbrick writes, quoting Melville:

In Moby-Dick Ishmael tells of seeing the skeleton of a sperm whale assembled in a grove of palm tress on a South Pacific island. "How vain and foolish," he says, "for timid untraveled man to try to comprehend aright this wondrous whale, by merely poring over his dead attenuated skeleton... Only in the heart of quickest perils; only when within the eddyings of his angry flukes; only on the profound unbounded sea, can the fully invested whale be truly and livingly found out." But, as the survivors of the Essex came to know, once the end has been reached and all hope, passion, and force of will have been expended, the bones may be all that are left.

right on.

Next up Fatal North the story of the USS Polaris, and the first American expedition to reach the North Pole.

Nantucket Girl's Song
by Eliza Brock

Then I'll haste to wed a sailor, and send him off to sea,
For a life of independence, is the pleasant life for me.
But every now and then I shall like to see his face,
For it always seems to me to beam with manly grace,
With his brow so nobly open, and his dark and kindly eye,
Oh my heart beats fondly towards him whenever he is nigh.
But when he says "Goodbye my love, I'm off across the sea,"
First I cry for his departure, then laugh because I'm free.

culled from In the heart of the sea by Nathaniel Philbrick

My neurologist is cute. Today as he was examining me, I blushed and giggled when he checked my reflexes. The worst part is that he blushed back. I think we are in love.

ahhhh so what else is new?

Last night I saw exotic topless dancers for the first time. And Not like, "I saw some topless dancers from a distance." By "saw" I mean they danced around our table and we stuck bills in there g strings. I had not really expected to spend my sunday night in such a way, but I suppose it was better then sitting in and reading.

ah, reading. Its good that I am getting out really. I spent a couple weeks reading Parasite Rex and related books and sites. I am obsessed with parasites now. If you've had the (dis)pleasure of sitting down with me recently, I no doubt informed you that tape worms help crohn's disease, that toxoplasmosis may actually affect the psychology of its human hosts or that malaria has taken the cockroach's place as the winner of my own personal award for most sophisticated and interesting organism. Its all true.

Eventually, when I found that I needed to get my mind off guinea worms and trichinosis I turned to an old favorite - seafaring disaster. I just finished Ice Blink a book about the doomed Franklin expedition. Strictly speaking, and no pun intended, Franklin's arctic journey is the polar opposite of Shackleton's antarctic mission. All 128 men on the HMS Terror and Erebus die (supposedly) of lead poisoning, botulism, scurvy, or starvation while searching vainly for north west passage. And lets not forget the cannibalism. Lets never forget the cannibalism.

Now I am reading In the Heart of the Sea which is about the the boat that inspired Melville to write Moby-Dick, the whaleship Essex. After losing the Essex to an enraged sperm whale, 20 men get into 3 small boats. 8 survive. There is cannibalism in this story too, but these guys are unlucky enough to have to draw lots. ouch.

I recommend all of these books. Parasite Rex is just a blast (and actually cured me of my fear of tape worms). Ice Blink though it tends to get a little tired in its convictions, has several chapters that are perfectly gripping. I will have to let you all know about Heart of the Sea. So far SO good.

Time to go home. I wish you sweet dreams of brain doctors and ice flows.

Where do I begin? I think I am ready to begin. I really do want to start writing again. I have never stopped wanting. Its just that so much has been so off and its not made any sense to share. Lots of time has pasted. Sorry. Its been a tough time for all of us, I know. Ultimately I have come away from this past month all with new emotional perspectives on life and health and happiness. And lets not forget all those new theories and conceits. Oh, the conceit. And to what do we owe this sudden new frame of mind? This new urge to act, express and be present? Well, mostly genetics and a hereditary disorder with a fancy name. And Zoloft. We owe Zoloft. big time.

hopeless causes be danmed

I was saying at some point that I wanted to found my own city (Marstropolis?) cause I think it must be awesome fun to name the streets, parks, squares (oh there will be squares!) and most especially to erect monuments.

Owing to my fondness for the parisian cityscape, the main thoroughfare of my city will be called Boulevard de Hector Chauncy Urbino. It will pale only in comparison to the majestic Rue Full of Grace. At the intersection of these two grand avenues the first of many monuments will be erected. It will be in tribute to Perce Blackboro, stowaway and all around swell guy upon the H.M.S. Endurance. The plaque will read as such:

I have found Josh Marcus to be an invaluable source of supportive and creative advice. We have discussed the building of several other monuments namely those in honor of failed scientific models. (ie, those found in Ptolemaic Park and the Platygaean Square) as well as the intricate system of canals that will be dug for the underwater monorail.

You may call me crazy now, but when you pack up and move there you will call me "your highness".

ps: could I get sued for saying "fuck you merriam webster"?

marychen. marychen. marychen. marychen! oh yeah and Juno! Sweet sweet Juno. By way of explanation; Went to DC this weekend to be with my beloved mary. Juno was in town and we all got to share in the love. ah the love...

* * *

HEY, I would like to bring something to everybody's attention. I was having this mental block on the word "effusive" which I thought might be an appropriate descriptive word for my above rambling. I decided to go m-w.com and start looking up words in the thesaurus in hopes that I would come across the right entry. I knew it wasn't quite right, but I decided to start with the word "emotional" and this is a direct copy and paste:

Entry Word: emotional
Function: adjective
Text: 1 dominated by, prone to, or moved by emotion <an irritable emotional woman who was easily upset by trivialities>

Now, at the risk of confirming some ancient sexist conception: fuck you merriam webster.

* * *

Anyway, a bunch of things happened last week that I wanted to tell you about, but in my new trademark ineffectual style, I haven't the energy. I am gonna go have a beer.

Happy birthday Miranda, kiss

I got the new, and only, rival schools cd tonight and myOmy, its fun. Track nine is particularly fantastic. What is it with track nine? It was probably at the point in the show when they played this song that I realized that, if asked, I would give up everything and become their concubine.

On another note!: I procured a piece of Jim Houser's art this evening. It is entitled "nocturnes" and it a painted wooden bowl. I cherish it. Hey, have I ever told you how Jim proposed to Becky? Well, it was the afternoon of his opening at the ICA and he was just finishing up. Becky was there and he called to her, telling her that there was a painting already hung that he had decided not to sell. He wanted her to have it. He pointed it out; It was tiny, about 5 or 6 inched square piece. It was a two tone blue, simple line painting of two people holding each other. Above the figures where the words, "They held each other's breath". She took it from the wall and there, behind it, painted on the gallery walls themselves where the words, "Becky will you marry me?" and there inside the hollow of the painting's canvas was the ring, designed and made to Jim's own specifications. It's too fucking much.

AND finally, I have begun to scan my trip photos. Its only a matter of time, dear children, and you will have the unique opportunity of seeing the world through my eyes.

This weekend I narrowly avoided arrest for criminal trespassing in Cecil County, Maryland. god save me. At the time I didn't think to much about it, was just glad to be on the road home, but last night in a moment of clarity I realize just exactly how many lucky stars I had: a lot. Simply put, a weekend incarcerated in the Cecil County clink would have most likely proved to be the worst time of my entire life. Save maybe for those spinal taps.

free as a bird,

mars

Last night I had this incredibly visual and realistic dream in which I was having an affair with Jeremy Northam. It was not half bad! In fact, it was very, very, deeply... not bad.

Today nothing of interest has occurred.

Tonight we are having a potluck. I will be serving delicious cheeses.

This weekend we are all heading down to the Conowingo Dam for Devo's birthday. Some will casually wade and swim. Some will risk life and limb and leap from the cliffs. Others will simply sit on the edge and drink themselves silly. Can you guess where I fit in?

oh and HAPPY GESCHWINDAY!

I am home. I have been for days and days, but I can't seem to pretend to be back in my life. I cant claim that anything makes any good sense. Can't find the motivation I need to change my outgoing voice message or answer my email or grocery shop, let alone regale you will much deserved tales of my bizarre adventures overseas.

Actually, I am too concerned with other's strange adventures; marychen has told you all about Philip Staufen who I have decided needs my help and also I have become morbidly obsessed with Ernest Shackleton's not nearly as tragical as it should have been, but still outrageously ill fated voyage to Antarctica. I think this nova site presents it well, especially the page with the details about the crew. Its fucking haunting.

So anyway, sorry to keep you in suspense. The trip was good. I will post pictures when I can.

lord. I have just been so incredibly busy. I am not even going to attempt to fill you in on all of the madness that has transpired. Though I will say that the ten days of my birthday were a ridiculous success. And also that the past week has been blur of festivities and preparation. I am leaving on monday and wont be back until August. In an ideal world I would update and say hello from the road, but I am not gonna promise a damn thing. You may want to spyonit or some similar service if you are interested in my seeing sporadic updates, but don't want to waste your time typing my 15 characters or wrestling your bookmarks everyday just to find this same old tired entry.

I love you.

I'll miss you.

It'll never be the same.