Zona Nuda

Had a good weekend, went to a couple spas, learned two things:

  • If you have gas, don’t get a massage.

  • If you get a massage anyway, don’t doze, no matter how relaxing and soothing it is, because you’ll spend the rest of your day wondering whether you farted in your sleep.

I was also reminded of another thing: naked people are great. At first I was reluctant to go to a spa because only old people with joint problems go to them. Then I remembered that I’m an old person with joint problems. Also, a whole spectrum of people go there, not just limping fat old people. Here is one of the places we went.

Various pools indoors and out, some with little bridges over them, under which I lurked, cool architecture, relaxing, great. Best of all was the big naked area with several different saunas. The naked area, or Zona Nuda as the multi-lingual signs said. Full of all sorts of people, all naked. And all beautiful. Short, tall, fat, skinny, young, old, beautiful.

I’m not saying everyone was attractive. But I was reminded of something Studs Terkel said once, that women look best naked. Men, eh, not sure. Maybe in a classic, dark two piece single-breasted suit. I don’t mean this in a sexual, sexist way, don’t misunderstand me. I don’t know what to think of Studs Terkel, but people are beautiful. Imperfect, but beautiful.

It takes a while to get used to the nakedness. It is a shame that people are led by the media to have this narrow picture of human beauty, though, you know? I realize I’m once again stating the obvious, but someone has to. You’re beautiful.

Don’t believe me? Take off your clothes and look. Look slow, not fast the way you look at some airbrushed fashion model. You are.

Memory and Nothingness

Before I leave work today, in like 7 hours from now, someone remind me to pick up Alpha at the train station nearest my office, where she will be waiting with small red suitcase, instead of driving straight home, okay? We’re going away for the weekend.

Also, Father’s Day contest at Raising Hell, go see, $20 buck Amazon prize.

Oh, and, I almost forgot, new shoes at the Shoe Project.

God, I love this new design. Georgia is such a classy, legible font. Could someone with Opera or IE5/Mac tell me what exactly is breaking for them, so I can beg someone to fix it?

Come with me, little girl

Come with me, the elder bushes are
blooming and the air is full of various
pollen. We’ll live in a teepee in America.
Okay, not a teepee but a succession of
cheap and drab apartments, scary and
underheated and wandering
mental patients will frighten you, them
and the vastness of our commerce.

Come with me. Your childhood has already
broken your heart, so my betrayals
and failures will hurt only half
as much. Come with me and
I will show you a great, big place.
I won’t hurt you on purpose, I won’t
hit you often or hard.

Take me with you little girl, we’ll
give it another try. I’ll scrub your
floors with Clorox, you’ll be important
and I won’t be. I’ll miss you so bad
when you travel I won’t vacuum your
footprints from the carpet, comforted
by your traces.

Take me with you, we’ll have interesting
children. You’ll need someone
to carry your milk to your baby
every day when the two of you are
in two different hospitals. I’ll be
so quiet you won’t even notice me.
We’ll misunderstand each other so
badly it will be as if I weren’t there
at all. Take me with you let’s dance
an awful waltz.

Come with me and I’ll dig you mountains
of dirt. I’ll build you a house,
surprising both of us. Life can be grand,
and surprising.
Stay with me, we’ll sleep in
a yurt yet. Depth, pressure and heat
make diamonds; we’re fucking rich.
The jasmine is blooming
and we’re losing the knack of being
shitheads. Who would have thought it
would ever be this wonderful?

[Today is our 15th wedding anniversary, Alpha and I. Happy anniversary, darling. The above post is posted in violation of a strict ban on love poetry at Feral Living, and with apologies to readers and especially, Alpha.

Alpha and I have been together for almost 22 years, married for 15 of them now. It was often hard for one or both of us, but it was more often not and it was more often great and I would do it all over again, and it's getting better all the time. I love you, wife.

Also, Alpha forbade me to post a picture of her as a little girl, which would have worked better with the poem, so I was forced to search the Internet for an approximation of sorts. If by chance you, Dear Reader, are the person shown in the above photograph, please contact me, we need to work out a model release.]

I’ve been haxxored!!!

What the?????
Who hacked my css????
I’ll bet anything it was that tart!!!!!

Junk mind

I have a junk mind, I like trash. I like AC/DC. It is very hard for me to get high-class culture. My mind is a scary, narrow, dark place. At times I try to fight this with various strategies. Like I take cello lessons, as you know. So today, driving to work, listening to “Highway to Hell” on my recently-repaired CD player in the funky Fiat Dobl

Essential parenting resource

Nowadays, come bedtime, many children have a new bugbear that wasn’t around when we were their age. You guessed it: blowfish.

:: The Blowfish Talk: How to Discuss Blowfish With Your Child

Many thanks to Joeri for this fine link. Go there now!