Origami

Practice makes perfect.

Does it really?

I think practice makes better. It's by practicing something, over and over, when inspiration hits. For after you've done something a thousand times, you want to try something a little different. I've been practicing a lot of origami the past few months. Bought some books, ordered expensive washi paper from Japan, saved some PDF files of neat diagrams and...well...here is what some of the things look like so far.

The green figure in the above pic is step 13 of a soon-to-be kangaroo. The right figure is (was) supposed to be a man playing a violin. As you can see, I still have a ways to go.

 

 

The brown and white creature is a deformed Yoda...actually, now that I come to think of it...it's step 33 of a Rhinocerous beetle. The purple creature is well on its way to becoming a rabbit, but its paper DNA contracted a mutant virus and ended up looking like the backside of a purple Batman.

 

My latest avant garde origami project. I call it Blanc Entropy pour Mercredi. This is what some un-artistic people would call a crumpled piece of paper, whereas in reality, it is a piece of organic art in the cellulose tradition that gives one the impression of cumulonimbusness and delusions of grandeur. Notice the carefully constructed folds forecasting stormy clouds ahead. 

 

I'm selling it on E-bay.

 

This is an Oriland Magic Cube. It's made from 48 sheets of square paper folded together. No cutting or glueing. If you hold it on the sides, you can rotate it in a circle and watch it change colors.

 

Another failure. This was well on it's way to becoming a paper Stag beetle. Around step 42 something went awry.

 

 

No. I did not make these. This guy did. Here is one of his diagrams of a praying mantis. Feel free to fold it. The amazing thing about these creatures is they are folded from a single sheet of paper.

The good thing about polyester you ask? It's easy to spell.

Turtles live a long time because when weird people come visiting they can go inside their house until the weird people go away. They don't have to put up with people who make them get out wheelchairs and try to walk, even though they have one leg, and make fun of them when they cannot and tell them they don't love Jesus enough.

When I was a small child I found a gecko. Naturally I wanted to see how it worked, so I took it apart. Next thing I knew, I had a non-working gecko. I had an interesting childhood.

Once one realizes that 99% of the time 99% of the people don't know what they're talking about 99% of the time, one can generally get along with 99% of the people 99% of the time.

Until then, there is always aspirin.

You may not know this, but I once translated the entire book of Ecclesiastes into functional Ebonics.

I replaced all the 'meaningless' words with 'da man got me down'. All the 'verilys' with 'you dig.' Every instance of the word 'wisdom' I used 'Jerry rig.' And for the 'amens' I used the word 'uh-huh...that's why I'm saying.'

The Ebonics version gives it a more literal feel. It's more earthy and genuine.

Organic.

It does lose a bit a bit of the author's natural rhythm and flavor...perhaps makes all the meaninglessness somewhat darker, but hey, in the hood what can you expect?

The result is, I think, something Everyman can relate to...preferably one who isn't obsessed with grammar.

Did I mention I also replaced all the 'kings' with 'community organisers?'

Things That Make One Weary on Life's Pilgrim Journey

by me:)

Old age, non-prescription chemicals, too much FD and C #3 yellow, prescription chemicals, hypothyroidism, winter, the 2nd law of thermodynamics, evil spirits from hanging out with unicorn lovers, allergic reaction to Spam, Botulism spores, increased cortisol production from stress caused by stepping in one too many mini Skoal pyramids at West Virginian Exxons, the Fall of Man, Obama, repressed rage due to frustrated attempts at origami crustaceans, iphone magnetism, Gamma rays, the neighbors, the neighbor's cat, the neighbor's cat's spoor, Thorium leaching into the water supply from mountain top mining, shrinkage, Libya in general, The Bolshevik Revolution, too much baby sloth watching activities on YouTube, raw bacon the day after the expiration date, K-Mart, dead porcupines, retro Nikes, obese gerbils, the inevitable erosion of telomeres in my DNA, fossilized coprolites, dry glue, used razor blades, pig's feet in the deli section, high taxes, missing commas, and and The Boston Globe

I can't take it anymore!

This Week's To-Do List

 You know who have plenty of time on your hands when re-writing the Bhagavad Gita...making it a theological comedy...is on your list of things to do...

Rules For Happiness

It helps to keep in mind that 99.9% of the time, 99.9% of the people do not know what they're talking about 99.9% of the time.

Today's Resolution: I promise to be nicer to people with consonant-heavy surnames.

Sunday Sunday

Ah, Sunday.

The perfect day to grok Jesus and God in Euclidean Reality despite what Zarathustra says.

Sometimes...for kicks...I like to drive past the biology building at the local college and yell Creationist slogans like 'Ontology recapitulates Phylogeny is a false dogma!" but nobody takes me seriously.

Someday I hope to be mayor.

It has been said in the last days the lion will layeth down with the lamb, but I don't think the lamb will get a whole lot of sleep in this situation.

Good Karma

I tend to take a holistic view of Reality. I believe in the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. For every action, there’s a reaction. For every donut, there is a hole. For every AIG, there is an APPL. For every beautiful red-headed ‘Emily’ in Kansas City on eHarmony, there is a disgruntled anonymous biologist gnashing his teeth and cursing fate somewhere on the East Coast wondering WHY does she not return her e-mails. There is a time and season for all things. A time to plant and a time to reap. A time for war and a time for peace. A time to laugh and a time to cry. A time to buy and a time to hock it on Craigslist. A time to read and a time to re-read lest one missed the point the first time. The Universe, see, is one vast gigantic whole. It is made of threads…strings…so forget that nonsense you’ve heard about atoms. Everything is connected to everything else.

Somehow. Someway.

Our physicists tell us all atoms (strings) know the location of all other atoms in the Universe. You’d think this undermines Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, but it doesn’t. Good things occur because this is inherent in the structure of Reality. They MUST occur. Bad things happen because the threads get tangled.

Bob Dylan alluded to this once and should have won the Nobel for physics, but alas! Sweden was undergoing social tangledness and missed it.

The secret to the good life is to KEEP MOVING FORWARD. This stretches the threads out and keeps them from bad tangled situations. This is why Sedentarism and mediocrity is bad. The good things in  life right are due to (can ONLY be due to) galloping through Life at warp speed…stretching out the space/time continuum…exercising it.

Always remember this.    

College Entrance Exam

I discovered this college entrance exam question by one Hugh Gallagher on the LetsRun.com message board and felt to re-post it here.

Hugh Gallagher's 'College Essay'

3A. ESSAY: IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION:

 ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?

 I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.

 I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

 Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

 I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat 400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

 I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

 I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prizewinning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

 But I have not yet gone to college.

 http://www.letsrun.com/forum/flat_read.php?thread=2429346

Chum

I would like to take this time to encourage everyone to quit using your pet dogs and cats as shark bait while vacationing at the beach.

This is what squid is for.

Thank you.

The Origami Yoda Project

Thursday night. Bored. What to do?

Why make an origami Yoda of course...

After an hour and a half, using green wrapping paper...

I created this little fellow.

May the folds be with you...

Race Update

Saturday I decided to try my hand at a local 5k run that was dedicated to the preservation of some scholarship for some poor and needy, young, up-and-coming fellow or female fella...are fellas female fellows?...they should be...that hopefully will someday be one of the 1%.

I tried a different tactic. I started in the middle of the pack of 200+ runners.

Mistake.

I spent the first half mile zig-zagging around fat guys wearing spandex, old ladies wearing spandex, some little boy (I think I stepped on him), and one stray dog.

I finally got into a rhythm...two steps-breath in...two steps-breath out...cough. And finished somewhere around 20th place out of 200 or so.

Some observations:

-old men who wear spandex so tight you can tell what religion they are is wrong.
-the amount of phlegm produced during the running of 3.1 miles is roughly equivalent to the amount of coffee drunk pre-race.
-concrete is good for driving on...running on it is not.

Did I mention the theme song to the Partridge Family was running through my head during the entire 20 minutes?

Hours later, I don't know why, I ran another six miles to shake the legs out. Sunday I took off. Today I ran 13 on the trails.

Yes, I'm addicted.

Dear old man who was riding a mt. bike yesterday on the trails while wearing a hoodie and a bicycle helmet with a Duralite strapped on top on a sunny 75 degree day,

Why?

Sincerely,

Me

"This little piggy went to market,
this little piggy stayed home,
and this little piggy was used as a test animal in a baseline forensic entomology experiment...we won't say what happened to that little piggy."

(Classic example of someone who should not contribute their DNA to the gene pool)

Write right

I just moved to West Virginia last week and felt the need to say this.
 
Not all addictions are wicked and evil. Some, as a matter of fact, are quite good...like phonics.

Think Right

Psssst!

Listen up smart people. I've a secret for ya' all.

No matter how logical your argument is...how persuasive it seems. The conclusions of your argument are totally meaningless if your fundamental assumptions about the basic nature of reality are wacked out.

This is why I don't believe the sky is green.

There's a hidden meaning here, hopefully you can grok it.

Adventures at the DMV

11:30 AM. The woman beside me has 4 toes. Yet another reason why food addictives should be banned by the FDA.

She was wearing sandals...from Wal-Mart...and jorts...also from Wal-Mart. She had obviously consumed far too much FD and C number 3 yellow food coloring extract...or had a mild case of jaundice. Hard to say really when one wears amber-tinted sunglasses to maintain a low profile when smirking-rated activities are necessary.

12:30 PM. Still waiting. The four-toed lady has moved to window #9 and where she is being asked for far too much personal information by the kind DMV lady with less than the full compliment of teeth.

1:00 PM. C497 (my number is called) I let out a war whoop which I immediately regret. (I should really cut down my caffeine intake from 700 mg to something more like a dozen or so mgs) and proceed to the molar-challenged lady. She takes a sip of her Mt. Dew and I take the time to kindly remind her that experiments show that teeth placed in cups of Mt. Dew have shown the teeth to erode into their elemental atoms.

DMV lady is not amused.

1:45 PM. Still waiting at window #9 while same DMV lady has difficulty finding my name in her database. I tell her I changed my last name a year ago for personal and highly confidential government reasons. She sips more Mt. Dew and makes a sound something like a cross between grunting and coughing up phlegm.

2:00 PM. Finished. Go home and remember that I forgot to get my new vanity license plates.

 

For those of you to whom this applies: Never expect to run a comfortable 8 miles on a breezy August day six hours after consuming an entire rotissiere chicken baptised in spicy mustard and homeade Italian dressing.

It's always the easy ones you tend to miss. Every time one comes to something that seems quite simple, man has the unique ability of all creatures to mess it up and destroy part of the very fabric of nature itself. Nature is now flawed due to man's trangressions against the fundamental laws of the universe. I wish this were not so. Were things otherwise, the universe would not be undergoing a slow erosion to nothingness and an eventual heat death.

"Meaningless! Meaningless!" said the writer of Ecclesiates. Everything is meaningless. For no matter how hard a man toils, in the end it will all be forgotten. Everything a man does is meaningless, a chase after the wind. Many will come after and will they remember the deeds of the men who live today?

No!

They will continue on in their meaningless lives...their paltry existence...wandering the earth seeking to fill their belly with things that only satisfy temporarily. Then, the aching dull pain returns and beckons them to flee into the void...that nameless void...that final walk we must all take into the Great Unknown which whispers into our ears every night to join the throng of those who have gone before.

“Human beings do not live forever, Reuven. We live less than the time it takes to blink an eye, if we measure our lives against eternity. So it may be asked what value is there to a human life. There is so much pain in the world. What does it mean to have to suffer so much if our lives are nothing more than the blink of an eye?

I learned a long time ago, Reuven, that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, that is something. A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something. He can fill that tiny span with meaning, so its quality is immeasurable though its quantity may be insignificant. Do you understand what I am saying? A man must fill his life with meaning, meaning is not automatically given to life.

It is hard work to fill one's life with meaning. That I do not think you understand yet. A life filled with meaning is worthy of rest. I want to be worthy of rest when I am no longer here.” 
Chaim Potok, from The Chosen

I met a man who fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. He said the girl was a princess and was traveling to a faraway land to learn of other cultures. He admired her so much the gods became jealous. They placed a mark on his head as a warning to others that he was destined to be a lonely wanderer upon the face of the Earth. In time, he repented of making an idol of the most beautiful girl in the world and begged the god's forgiveness. He then asked the god's for her hand in marriage since they created the princess. I asked him about the response they gave him, but he never answered the question.

Create

Rare inventions usually have a specific purpose. The more quirky a gadget, the greater the specificity it's job. Some jobs require a mind that is curious about everything. The same minds usually have a unique perspective into reality and show great influence over many people. Do-gooders and well-wishers often tell the quirky mind to settle down and join the crowd, but curiosity will prevent the quirky mind to restlessness with the status quo. They must travel, and explore, look for other kindred souls to dance with, and of course capture the moments with pen and brush.

What matters is not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

except ... chihuahuas.

London 2012

I'm glad cheerleading is not an olympic sport. Can you imagine the thousands of Chinese kids forced to go to a training camp away from their families for years on end forced to learn to appear "spontaneous and cheerful?"

OK. Be honest. How many of you used to think the word hazwoper was a derogatory term for obese DOT guys???

Plura Scriptum Epistola...'Write more letters'

Letters are one of those things that sets us apart from mere animals for only a living soul can translate his unseen, abstract, thoughts to another using graphite and cellulose as the medium. It's like magic really. Letters are the most valuable treasures one can leave behind. They unite past lives with current lives thus building a community that stretches across the ages.

I almost think God expects us to write to one another as a way to better our lives...make us more human. Don't you think?

Daily Log:

Look at insects under two different microscopes all day.
Run 8 miles and decrease the gnat population of Central Virginia by 1,000 by swatting them during the run.
Drink 2 gallons of water.
Make one pizza using corn chips, garlic powder, chili powder, cheese, pepperoni, corn meal, olive oil, horseradish sauce, salt, and the tiniest bit of sugar.
Read a couple chapters from 'Far From the Madding Crowd'
Pay rent.
Work on the next great american novel.
Pray to God asking him to send me a wife who looks like Mary Poppins...hey, I like Brits.
Get involved in a staredown with a mean-looking cow.
Learned the Yugoslavian words for 'Happy Birthday'
E-mail secretary data for a report.
Drink another 2 gallons of water.
Wash clothes by boiling them in water to shrink them to make them fit better.
Ponder the hidden meanings in Ecclesiastes.
Watch Dr. Christian Harfouche preach on the internet.
Lift weights.
Eat part of the aforementioned pizza and make mental note to never use horseradish sauce ever ever again when pepperoni is involved.

Dear World

Good Morning.

More will be said later when blood caffeine levels reach statistically significant levels and hormone levels increase to appreciable amounts that make writing and talking actions easier.

I have spoken.

Far From the Madding Crowd

I just started reading this book and feel that Gabriel Oak and I have an awful lot in common. Hopefully, he'll win the heart of his sweetheart at the end of his journey. It would be the perfect ending...

A story:

I had an epiphany yesterday.

I was hiking on the Appalachian Trail, took a side trail, got lost, re-discovered the AT, hiked 13 miles in the wrong direction, backtracked, and ended up walking 30 miles. Yes-you heard that right.

Thir-ty miles.

So yes, I’m tired…and thirsty.

Oh, did I mention I also ran a 5km road race at 7:30 A.M. the same day? Finished 10th out of about 200 people.

I finally made it back to my Mazda just as the most glorious sunset occurred. There were actually people pulled off the road taking photos of it.

Ten hours is a long time to spend in the woods. I had a  dream furry woodland creatures were inviting me to live with them. A rather large grey squirrel…his name was Mr. Poggins…was extolling the virtues of baked acorns and invited me for dinner. I respectfully declined his offer…that, and I couldn’t fit in his treehouse.

Today's long-distance running training advice: In the long run, one must be comfortable with being uncomfortable.

Moving Right Along

In one months time I shall move back to the great state of West Virginia. Eight years have I lived in the merry state of Virginia and I'll miss it. Well, except for the high tax rate...but that's another story.
 
"And just how long do you plan to stay in West Virginia, Jason?"

Good question. I really don't know. I've moved...in the last ten years...at least ten times. You could call me a traveling nomad. I've always known I never would live permanently in VA or WV for long so I've been renting off people and never bought a house. The West Virginia thing seems...right now...and semi-permanent situation. I could see myself living anywhere in this country of ours except for perhaps Alabama or Louisiana. Don't get me wrong, I like these states...in much the same manner one loves certain relatives who chain smoke, tell obnoxious jokes, and kick cats...but some places you can, and should, appreciate only from a long distance.

Seattle or Portland is a possibility. Albuquerque another. New York City...definately...under the right circumstances...as in if I found a great deal near Central Park so I could run 10 miles a day and feel like I was in the country...situation. London is yet another possibility. Sometimes I think I was born there and kidnapped by hippie bohemians during the 70's, hidden in the cargo bay of a rather large ship, and dropped off at an orphanage in Fairmont, WV. This would explain my difficulty in remembering the first two years of my life and these recurring dreams that involve lots of water and boxes.

Today's long-distance running training advice: in the long run the long run should only be a "long" run if you run the run long, so...run long.

"Do not depend on the hope of results. You may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results, but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself. You gradually struggle less and less for an idea and more and more for specific people. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationship that saves everything." --Thomas Merton

You know. No matter how sincere someone is when they try to persuade you the color of the sky is purple, I cannot help but think it is, always has been, and always will be blue. There is a hidden meaning here.

After 25 years...guess who is back?

No Sweat.

8.2 pounds-amount of weight I lost due to sweat during today's hour and a half run in 91 degree heat.

Peace Tea

Leave it to some Californian tea company to actually design a proper tea can.

I can quite honestly say I have no more problems with houseflies...

Meet Myrna and Loy. My newest fishy origami creations.

More Origami Madness

12 pieces of paper folded into this contraption called the WXYZ Project. Yes-it was difficult.

The left item was made using 6 sheets of square paper and the tiniest bit of glue. The right item, called the I-Ching Square, was created using 8 sheets of paper-without glue.

Bookcase with little origami books. OK...OK...so I do have quite a bit of free time.

Close-up shot of one of the mini books.

Origami Madness

With the advent of a 4-day period of no water or electricity this week, I decided to practice my origami skills. Origami, you should know, is the Japanese word for the art of paper-folding. Coincidentally, in Korean it is the word for torture. Here is a Kusadama ball I made from 60 small square pieces of waxy paper.

Stage 1: the little papers are folded into triangles, glued, and clothes-pinned together.

Close-up shot of the little papers ranging from perfectly flat to folded to glued together. 5 triangles were glued together to make one 5-petal flower.

Next, two flowers were glued together petal-to-petal, clothes-pinned,, and resting precariously in a beaker filled with paper clips. Note: glass beakers also make great green tea holders.

Finished! One Kusadama ball that will be sent to a special friend of mine for inspirational purposes.

Sometimes, I think God arranges the hearts of men so they hopelessly in love with a girl. And the girl, try as hard as she might, finds it difficult to not reciprocate the action...

Quite True

2012 Seattle Rock N Roll Marathon

Finish Line

I woke the next morning at 4AM and consumed a pre-race meal consisting of fried lamb and curried rice. A note from my journal reads:

Seattle. Marathon starts in 85 minutes. pre-race meal of fried lamb and curried rice-check. Last will and testament donating all my worldly possessions to the Society for the Prevention of Country Music-check.Nectar-flavored energy gels on hand-check.

A couple other notes I wrote read:

I feel like that mouse who after a few drinks got brave and said, "Now where's that darn cat everyone's talking about."

Should today not go so well, I've a couple of kidneys, a heart, and a liver or two I'd be willing to donate.

Naturally I wasn't feeling over-confident.

Surprisingly, the marathon went well. I walked the 25th mile since my legs felt like somebody spent all morning running a jack-hammer on them, but the 26th mile I continued on. The last 400 yards were uphill and I think I almost cried. That afternoon walking was extremely difficult but surprisingly next morning I felt fine...just some somewhat sore quadriceps.

Sunday morning I went to Christ Church Kirkland where a former Regent U classmate of mine used to attend. I met a most classy blogger whose blog, I must add, totally rocks...and a must-read. It's called Southern Nomad.

Later I explored the Capital Hill District of Seattle.


Odd Fellows Cafe...a must go to place...this is the perfect writer's hangout. Not necessarily on Sunday afternoons as it was quite crowded, but during the day it would be perfect.

Next morning it was time to go home and I flew to New York...then to Pittsburgh where my bleary-eyed parents took me to their house. This morning, I drove back to Merry Ol' Virginia.

Marathon Traveling and Marathon Running

At precisely 4:56 PM last Monday I began a journey of 6,000 miles via plane, train, and automobile.
First, I packed up and drove the Mazda to my parent's house in West Virginia.

I camped out here for a day before my mom and sister dropped me off at the Pittsburgh Amtrak station. There were about 30 Amish folks there traveling en masse to Chicago with me and well got on the same car.


Elkhart, Indiana...minutes after being involved in an Amish pillow fight.


Union Station, Chicago


Milwaukee, Wisconsin


Near Madison, WI...1st amber wave of grain sighting.

Wisconsin Dells,WI...getting ruraler...train is temporarily stopped due to small herd of badgers.

 

Winona, Minnesota...Downtown Winona Minnesota...the...um...business district of downtown Winona.

Fargo, North Dakota

 

Rugby, North Dakota

 

Little house on the prairie.

More evidence of human overpopulation in North Dakota...if you look closely you'll see an old house about 5 miles away.

 

Perfectly flat dirt roads for dozens of miles. This is perfect training ground for ultra-marathon training and crop-circle making activities...still in North Dakota.

 

Train Literature, fascinating reading.

 

Havre, Montana...dinosaurs used to live here. Thank god and extinction they're on vacation.

 

Shelby, Montana

 

Columbia River, Washington.

 

(I didn't take any pictures whilst in Idaho as I was overcome with sleepiness)

 

Bingen-White Salmon, WA

 

Vancouver...the American one...we're getting closer.

 

Random Note#1: Dear Conductor-There's an old fellow snoring like the London Philharmonic warming up. My psychologist tells me I've Chronic Snoring Syndrome that causes me to go into violent spams of senior citizen choking yoga (his words, not mine). I propose we ditch him at Walla Walla where he can snore happily ever after.

Windmills on the Columbia River early Friday morning.

Mt. Hood, Oregon


Portland, OR...I shall

Random note#2...Amtrak baggage guy's name tag reads 'Hi...I'm Gregory Peck.' I think he's lying.

Finally, after nearly 60 hours on a train I arrived in Seattle.

 

In celebration of the up-coming election season I have decided to post some sentences from this neat random sentence generator I discovered whilst preparing a kiwi fruit/vanilla ice cream/ginger smoothie for dinner.

Ahem...

The drunk bird reiterates a wisest hobby.
When will the immortal flip beside the overall disco?
Inside your astronomy reacts the justifiable sauce.
The sitting beer fears the handy chicken.

The accountant grinds against a mailbox before the incapable cheek. How will the energy dictate after each wee cow? The inconsistent piece devastates a rot opposite a restricting elitist. Throughout the functioning midnight fails a cracking rag. Some of these, especially after drinking a third Monster Energy drink, seem almost mystic and carry hidden meanings.

One month from now you will find me standing in a crowd of 26,000 people wearing orange Adidas shorts and blue Adidas shoes. I'll be wearing sunglasses and chanting my private mantra,

"What the heck was I thinking, What the heck was I thinking, What the heck was I thinking."

Over and over again to the tune of the Beatle's Yellow Submarine.

At precisely 7 AM, I will commence running 26.2 miles through downtown Seattle and hopefully finish before collapsing somewhere near Pike Place Market. Come to think of it, I might just purposely collapse there since I love good seafood.

Seafood being defined as any creature with fins and scales. I don't consider lobsters, crabs, mussels, shrimp, or oysters as seafood. These creatures are called bait.

I do, however, like chicken livers...fried and sprinkled with organic goat cheese. Some people call chicken livers catfish bait, but I think they're confused. Why would a catfish eat a bird that inhabits hen houses? Bait is generally something that a creature would eat under normal circumstances. Bait for a human, for instance, would be a bacon cheeseburger. Women seeking husbands secretly know this which explains why at some point in every relationship a woman will drag a man into the nearest Arbys... is she's really interested in him.

My marathon training is going well. I'm running from 7-13 miles a day and vomiting, on average, every 8 miles. The synthetic thyroid hormone I'm taking every morning has made a pretty good improvement in my health. It does make one quite aggressive though.

Number of miles run today: 17
Number of carrots eaten today: 8
Amount of mg of caffeine consumed today: 300
Number of dairy cows that chased me today: 7

Dental Loot

The best thing about visiting the dentist every six months? Two words. Dental loot.

An Experiment in Carrots

"The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly observed, will set off a revolution."
--Paul Cezanne

A wave of inspiration hit me today. An abstract wave, not a concrete aqueous one. I decided to start a revolution. Why? Umm..it’s a nice day out so,…I gathered many spices and herbs. Baptised them in olive oil. Mixed the solution with chopped carrots and baked them at 400 degrees. Twenty minutes later I burnt approximately 757 epithelial cells (commonly called taste buds…and in Mennonite Ville Central Virginia…taste friends) while tasting them.

On a scale of 1-5, with 1 being absolutely horrid and 5 being manna-from-heaven-delicious, I would give them the tangent of 74…in other words a B+.

Pre-herbed carrots.

Random Carrot Fact #1 The Spanish word for carrot is zanahoria, which also means nerd.

All the players

Mixed herbs and spices. I find it is best to use a tin can that was once used to store green tea. And if it has a picture of Jack Casady impersonating Buddha...so much better. (Atmosphere you know)

The final product. Note: I prefer to cook using cast iron skillets. The theory being when you cook, iron molecules are transferred from the skillet to the food, thus increasing the healthiness factor.

Random Carrot Fact #2 If cows eat too many carrots their milk tastes bitter.