2008-08-11-1932
I may as well write to avoid forgetting where I am.
I went out to Santee on Weds (-$2.50) and camped within 400 meters of the trolley stop. Cooked, enjoyed a good meal, read some _Magic Mtn_. Got up early, rode trolley (-$2.50) to SDSU, walked to Gann's, dropped off electric toothbrush and another device, like a waterpik, but it goes on the faucet, uses no batteries--forgetting the brand name. And picked up pattern to make the pants.
Caught bus downtown (-$2.25), got 0830 greyhound/crucero to Long Beach (-$17). Made some copies (-$0.75), walked to Coast Guard, chatted with some of the others there (first real mariners I've got to talk to!), submitted MMD app (-$140). Wondered what to do. Sat still where there was glimpse of harbor.
Caught series of light rail lines to Pasadena Memorial Park stop (-$3.75). Walked to Rose Bowl, cooked, enjoyed good meal, read _MM_, got call from Mike M.
[NB: greyhound to Long Beach is better than Greyhound to LA: stop is near Anaheim st light rail stop. Easy to get to LAX, Union Station. . . LA GH stop is an inner circle of hell and surrounded by outer circles. . . No light rail nowhere nearby.]
I'd been by the Rose Bowl before on a visit to Path to Freedom (.com?) on interdependence day 2006 (July 4).
Next day, went to library, then made it out to Marina Del Ray and found Mike and family!
Today walked to Santa Monica. Visited Mike selling dates at farmers' market. Saw Emily, wearing a google shirt, who I'd met in the *being* group at Univ. of Washington (only remembered where later--not sure she remembered me. Remember writing, perhaps, that she gave gordon and I hugs. . . but maybe that was the cellist?).
Told the Organic Pastures sales manager in next booth about JM's documentary "the real truth about raw milk". He broke out a mac and got a youtube sample right there. Later, asking about what was colostrum, he gave me most of a 1 pint sample ($10/pint).
Standing around by Mike selling dates watching all the people was where I saw Emily.
Mike and I later caught bus to the Venice Learning Garden. He showed me primitive skills stuff. I then walked to a camp spot he recommended, where I am now, doing the usual.
_Magic Mountain_, by the way, is well addressed to my question to Bill: how do you find joy in doing the same routine for so long. . . The sort of answer: you don't: variety is important to preserving our sense of time and our sense of being alive. The more radically one's situation changes, the slower time goes--or the more time seems to have passed when one looks back. So years as a child generally seem longer (richer?) than years as an adult in peacetime.
I'm sure there's much more going on in the novel and in life than that.
Felt somewhat sure I'd see someone I knew from the past today. Walking on beach from MDR to Santa Monica, and 3rd St, is sort of like walking around Battery Park or nearly anywhere else in Manhattan, subway especially, a cultural epicenter/nexus?
Whatever your culture (even anarchoprim/neobeduin) you'll go through those spots at some point?
babble.
Looking forward to more _Magic Mountain_. Pasadena may be a bit nicer spot for me to hang out--may return there tomorrow or next day. There is a primitive/origin skills gathering over there on the 3rd sunday, 11/16, Mike says. I plan to be there.
May still go sailing with someone, but my 7knots crew resume may still be too odd, though I toned it down a bit.
4-6 weeks until the MMD may be mailed to Gann's house.
Then need dental letter (no work needed), three character refs, to finish application.
At the Coast Guard REC I met a young cook who had been to the Paul Hall School!
Yeah, I think my teeth/gums may now be my weak point--in terms of living the way I do.
And having this blog may turn off some captains from contacting me.
So what to I write about teeth here? Was thinking I might shut down public access to this.
Well, I'll leave it at that. Health is important though. . . Nearly primary, but after *meaning*.
(Some of) The World Is My Campground
Peace,
[note that coming to LA meets condition of being one of my fears. For someone who plays hot lava with cars. . . who walked up a hill in Vista one day in the mid '90s and saw the LA-area smog grey all around. . . the suburb hell . . . Well I'm here!
Peace,
2036]
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
principles
The plan was to go to Long Beach, turn in the Coast Guard forms, camp out and/or visit Mike M. Perhaps stay away for the holidays.
Not to happen?
Laying on sofa looking out large-hot-tub--sized window, slim strip of skyline with a Mexican mountain in it, planes landing, floating over my toes, taking off to the left of my wrist, which is raised, holding this.
Read Alex Wilkinson's (?) book about Poppa Neutrino.
Getting route to Long Beach REC, logged on, read aboud suicidal GM Indian farmers--100,000? 10,000? 100 per month--I remember that.
Read about issues in merchant mariners' careers on GCaptain blog.
It is cool outside.
Poppa Neutrino--a caricature, an extreme manifestation of what I could be, helps me see a part of me, will?, more clearly.
At the moment, I do not want this element.
I want to ask the opposite of his question.
How can I live least remarkably? How can I spend the least time with indecision, uncertainty, troubling questions? What direction requires the least risk, commitment, effort, initiative? What brings me closest to the mental life of the large pine tree framing the right/west edge of the large window?
How long could I lay still?
May/probably will return to Grandma Ann's house. Will get the pages telling my fortune that Chef Jem copied for me from _The Secret Language of Destiny_, walking by the Enchanted Garden.
Saw Mariah yesterday, strong dose of attention, engagement, love, me unsure, burbling mind, breathed with steps, got to beach, got to library, got the book, the thought-churn, what did that, what does she ---, had subsided.
What's her name? Byron Katie? What happens if you let yourself go, fall, all the way? Lucky me: eventually my dad comes, moves grandma ann out to TN? The house I'm stuck in is sold. Maybe I go to TN and live in woods there.
Vision of the least remarkable (Neutrino style): the developmentally disabled on a Camphill farm, or, even less, in a Lemon Grove group home, taken to the Kroc center to exercise, wipe counters, windows.
Making no effort beyond a certain minimum to alter/affect any circumstance which occurs. Not accepting/taking responsibility. Needing prodding to move at all.
So, it's a game with the mind: what is the least movement, action necessary? How slowly can one move? What is the least?
----
did think about the monastery again.
----
principles. Mariah, where is this talk coming from?
It's just a sensing, a coming from directionless but past-informed stillness.
like neutrino.
Peace,
----
Foil Jake has arrived, the yardworker I am not. Follows me from one grandma's house to another, does physical, social labor for pay. Friendly, a good guy.
----
Playing in the cycles. The only criterium is in own mind as affected by nearby others.
The day proceeds. Can I go out and exercise? First cycle. If no, stay, read, eat until can.
then, walk, at the least, incorporating tasks, such as, walk somewhere to apply for work.
then read, sit still, eat, some or all of that.
----
Grammie is having to tell my story on the phone, ". . . not gone to Long Beach."
----
If I were to go, it would be first thing, which is why not today, was finishing the book.
----
writing/not writing, part of the cycle too.
----
What pushes me away from staying here, and from staying at gann's may contunue to do so. So, who knows, may be headed to LB 0830 tomorrow. This may be a feint, as with my finally crossing the border.
----
may go tomorrow, return same day? Avoiding camping out? Not knowing where I'll sleep? Newness? Long dark cold?
the gCaptain blog post just reminded me that the mental questioning/dissatisfaction, uncertainty about direction just continues indefinitely
and sure, in the monastery too? [except that their focus should be to help contain and manage that]. So back to stillness, until I'm moved.
peace,
Not to happen?
Laying on sofa looking out large-hot-tub--sized window, slim strip of skyline with a Mexican mountain in it, planes landing, floating over my toes, taking off to the left of my wrist, which is raised, holding this.
Read Alex Wilkinson's (?) book about Poppa Neutrino.
Getting route to Long Beach REC, logged on, read aboud suicidal GM Indian farmers--100,000? 10,000? 100 per month--I remember that.
Read about issues in merchant mariners' careers on GCaptain blog.
It is cool outside.
Poppa Neutrino--a caricature, an extreme manifestation of what I could be, helps me see a part of me, will?, more clearly.
At the moment, I do not want this element.
I want to ask the opposite of his question.
How can I live least remarkably? How can I spend the least time with indecision, uncertainty, troubling questions? What direction requires the least risk, commitment, effort, initiative? What brings me closest to the mental life of the large pine tree framing the right/west edge of the large window?
How long could I lay still?
May/probably will return to Grandma Ann's house. Will get the pages telling my fortune that Chef Jem copied for me from _The Secret Language of Destiny_, walking by the Enchanted Garden.
Saw Mariah yesterday, strong dose of attention, engagement, love, me unsure, burbling mind, breathed with steps, got to beach, got to library, got the book, the thought-churn, what did that, what does she ---, had subsided.
What's her name? Byron Katie? What happens if you let yourself go, fall, all the way? Lucky me: eventually my dad comes, moves grandma ann out to TN? The house I'm stuck in is sold. Maybe I go to TN and live in woods there.
Vision of the least remarkable (Neutrino style): the developmentally disabled on a Camphill farm, or, even less, in a Lemon Grove group home, taken to the Kroc center to exercise, wipe counters, windows.
Making no effort beyond a certain minimum to alter/affect any circumstance which occurs. Not accepting/taking responsibility. Needing prodding to move at all.
So, it's a game with the mind: what is the least movement, action necessary? How slowly can one move? What is the least?
----
did think about the monastery again.
----
principles. Mariah, where is this talk coming from?
It's just a sensing, a coming from directionless but past-informed stillness.
like neutrino.
Peace,
----
Foil Jake has arrived, the yardworker I am not. Follows me from one grandma's house to another, does physical, social labor for pay. Friendly, a good guy.
----
Playing in the cycles. The only criterium is in own mind as affected by nearby others.
The day proceeds. Can I go out and exercise? First cycle. If no, stay, read, eat until can.
then, walk, at the least, incorporating tasks, such as, walk somewhere to apply for work.
then read, sit still, eat, some or all of that.
----
Grammie is having to tell my story on the phone, ". . . not gone to Long Beach."
----
If I were to go, it would be first thing, which is why not today, was finishing the book.
----
writing/not writing, part of the cycle too.
----
What pushes me away from staying here, and from staying at gann's may contunue to do so. So, who knows, may be headed to LB 0830 tomorrow. This may be a feint, as with my finally crossing the border.
----
may go tomorrow, return same day? Avoiding camping out? Not knowing where I'll sleep? Newness? Long dark cold?
the gCaptain blog post just reminded me that the mental questioning/dissatisfaction, uncertainty about direction just continues indefinitely
and sure, in the monastery too? [except that their focus should be to help contain and manage that]. So back to stillness, until I'm moved.
peace,
Monday, November 3, 2008
love, compassion
Returned _eat, pray, love_, did not read whole thing, but did want to note the mention of god as love, and of living from the heart.
Related, YES! magazine emphasizes compassion. The kids in the old painting cried as the adults watched as the bird died to demonstrate creation of a vacuum. A kid cried because a dry leaf he was holding broke.
Writers can exacerbate ailments of the mind. Reading David Foster Wallace, who killed himself this year, reading Elizbeth Gilbert, considering the effects of writing here, all these bring that to mind.
The quality of Thomas Mann vs. Wallace vs. Gilbert vs. Tolstoy vs. Merton. Vs. TNH.
Writing here to sort of note a point of lack: love, live from heart. . . Writing here may add to sense of lack in reader. . . Reader could wonder who these people are, wish she knew.
Another way to take this: as pointing to possibilities--your/my mind (not heart?) comes here seeking more engagement or helpful / interesting [/ novel] suggestion.
If I want more love, may look into _Learning True Love_ (sister chau ngiem [sp?]).
I am walking through a somewhat somber space these days. A lonely howling dog. A [generally] silent, shuffling, hard of hearing old man alone in a huge house with not a lot to do. Airplanes roaring overhead. Many cars driving on much pavement. Knowing there's another (young very young) old person alone in a medium house with not a lot to do. And many others.
Then there are people like Liz Gilbert and John McCain running around making tons of news. The old people watch about it on TV. I read about it.
This is a special space. I have escaped some of the energetic rushing around. I can be like a DF Wallace character and sit in one place all day, day after day [in my case], as the sun and shadows move about the room. I could stand by a road touching a post, waiting for my mom to return even if she never does.
I've walked away from birthdays, holidays, endearing expressions, tradition. [not entirely, not resolutely, only from what I don't feel, or from what I find unhelpful. I even seem to be walking away from activist friends, permaculture, a plant teacher, for similar reason/feeling.]
There is still love there. How odd is that?
I haven't walked away? There is love from/with the others who love no tradition, who honor no commitment? [who honor no mass behavior even if it be self-preserving? and for the greater good?]
----
read a little, write a little,
peace,
Related, YES! magazine emphasizes compassion. The kids in the old painting cried as the adults watched as the bird died to demonstrate creation of a vacuum. A kid cried because a dry leaf he was holding broke.
Writers can exacerbate ailments of the mind. Reading David Foster Wallace, who killed himself this year, reading Elizbeth Gilbert, considering the effects of writing here, all these bring that to mind.
The quality of Thomas Mann vs. Wallace vs. Gilbert vs. Tolstoy vs. Merton. Vs. TNH.
Writing here to sort of note a point of lack: love, live from heart. . . Writing here may add to sense of lack in reader. . . Reader could wonder who these people are, wish she knew.
Another way to take this: as pointing to possibilities--your/my mind (not heart?) comes here seeking more engagement or helpful / interesting [/ novel] suggestion.
If I want more love, may look into _Learning True Love_ (sister chau ngiem [sp?]).
I am walking through a somewhat somber space these days. A lonely howling dog. A [generally] silent, shuffling, hard of hearing old man alone in a huge house with not a lot to do. Airplanes roaring overhead. Many cars driving on much pavement. Knowing there's another (young very young) old person alone in a medium house with not a lot to do. And many others.
Then there are people like Liz Gilbert and John McCain running around making tons of news. The old people watch about it on TV. I read about it.
This is a special space. I have escaped some of the energetic rushing around. I can be like a DF Wallace character and sit in one place all day, day after day [in my case], as the sun and shadows move about the room. I could stand by a road touching a post, waiting for my mom to return even if she never does.
I've walked away from birthdays, holidays, endearing expressions, tradition. [not entirely, not resolutely, only from what I don't feel, or from what I find unhelpful. I even seem to be walking away from activist friends, permaculture, a plant teacher, for similar reason/feeling.]
There is still love there. How odd is that?
I haven't walked away? There is love from/with the others who love no tradition, who honor no commitment? [who honor no mass behavior even if it be self-preserving? and for the greater good?]
----
read a little, write a little,
peace,
Saturday, November 1, 2008
starting, may not stop [prfrmatv spch]
[18:43 working on this again, after dinner.
{Will I return to this and send it? Why?}
@16:29 was caught in re-reading, conversing-with-self mode when I hit:
"----
hygeine, cycling
----"
that released me, and I could leave it, made it home by 1700. That is the performance in "prfrmatv sp(ee)ch". I began to look at _Eat, Pray, Love_. . .
{the neighbor's dog, lonely, howling, whining, suffering, barking <<it's more peaceful in maid's room downstairs. Planes quieter too. Upstairs light may excite him/her.>>}
The considered title for this post:
terrible mind --> beautiful mind
Carolyn of the sifter/craig's list and of la jolla fantastic(?) frisbee has the former as her sig ("the mind is a terrible thing"). It stopped me a while the first time I read it. It seems to sum my attitude ever since I learned from TNH:
"Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out, I smile"
Wow, my mind is running like a maniac. I/my mind is making me miserable.
So, a recent (half-aware) theme has been: let the mind do all its crazy stuff. Let it. Follow it. Enable it {better: smooth its path}. Watch it and wonder why. Where is the goodness, helpfulness in this cycling, restlessness, frequent change of focus of the mind?
----
Here's some other speak-of-the-mind I scribbled while walking back:
{my job is to read YES! magazine} (intended for a particular spot)
{Do the least you need to do to cycle the mind so you can be content staying still/moving little.}
<<also (not while walking, but in the time since last posting) there was a concern/imagining about economic collapse-->>
{You may plan great movement, pretend to be preparing for great movement, yet never need to actually move.}
{Cutesy-- avoiding right livelihood/larger self?}
on to the old: (temporal collage/conversation between slices of time)
the substantial, caring, compassionate people never self-stimulate like this? Merton did? There is an other-focus. Merton did write for others. Only his journals perhaps like this. Peace--]
A new adventure. I'm in Point Loma. Laying on warm asphalt in the shade. [Sitting cross-leggéd.] On the grounds of a school.
Let many thoughts go since last written post. There is a quality in not writing. {in not having written.}
Mental hygeine. Vs engagement. One brings to mind rinsing, washing, cycling. The other, focus.
Met with mom. First time in nearly three years. Would be three years in January. I am her son. I saw anew who I am and who I've been. What I reproduce.
Avoiding self-critical reflex: the reflex to criticize self as inhuman, lobotomized.
[we had good fun, and a day at the beach like I've not had since I was a little kid (and a walk through her memory in OB, where she and dad lived before/after I was born), and just today I got _Eat, Pray, Love_ from the library. She recommended it. Had a good time attempting to explore/ explain issues related to monkhood/spiritual practice/creativity to grammie, mom, mom's friend, thanks to mom's friend's interest--was thinking of doing the two weeks at the monastery before committing self to job/mariner school.]
There were some "lobotomized Colin encounters feeling Mom" moments though. The resolution of them feels to me. . . to have ended well (nvr mind the grmr).
Really let things go--no weights, not lasting in the pool. Sort of catering to the smallest impulse. Want out? Let's go. [watching the cycling--how long do I need to be away before I can return and continue. Attempting to check in with larger self--the half-hour monastery bell-ringing, the leaving house to exercise every (early!!) am, pm (go to sleep.), regardless; awareness re: eating. The larger self that cares for body-- the self caring for the future, the longer(, wider, stiller, ever-) view, rather than the moment's engagement.]
Let's go.
And some days/nights mindless eating and probably reading was an issue. I watched "self"(?) cease to exist--all that was there was a strange sense of not being nourished, wondering what to eat.
Think it was lack of fat--the visit with Chef Jem (up to 4oz raw butter/day, 3pints/day raw goat milk +bee pollen +spirulina--see last photo in recent album), +kombucha, +kefir, helped. Things that will satiate, was avoiding: the whiting, and the parmesan/romano too salty for me to want to eat. So using the hiking staple: cream cheese. Is cultured, and --
----
very nice day here
----
Let the temp app go, haven't followed up. Let it go.
All that I was following was the MMD app--Merchant Mariner's Doc. Physical Monday, -$60. 8-10 passport photos (6 for SIU app) -$50. Up to Long Beach REC (regional exam ctr) Tuesday (-$140 mmd app, -$20 bus fare), and Mike M. is up there, so why not stay.
Thinking I'd stay in mts, but remembered the coldness, darkness--so maybe by the sea. Santa Monica?
Remembering the soloness. Why wander around alone?
{remembering the mad eating of free, unbought bread. . . how did mind forget? Did it?}
Now, there are many crewing opportunities. Found the Latitude 38 list. Big baja cruise left SD 10/27. Let them go.
A famous sailor, BJ Caldwell (briefly youngest solo circumnavigator--he didn't tell, I searched on his email), is delivering a yacht to Hawaii, leaving SD within a week.
A trimaran leaving Morro Bay for SF within two weeks. And redpill too, and so on.
----
I called 211 searching for public health clinics for the physical. Later I thought to call the Maritime Institute (local training school) for referral to someone familiar with the coast guard forms.
----
Read _Spartina_, about a guy who makes his living from the sea in Rhode Island, and about his lover, and the boat he built, and a hurricane. It and _Gone With the Wind_ were nearly the only real {as in paper} non-Harlequin books left. Got several more ebooks: _Magic Mountain_, Obama's, _GWtW_, David Foster Wallace, _Atlas Shrugged_. Started _Magic Mtn_--already deeply relevant, memorable: time is Lethe, and so is change of place. And DFW is good/great.
----
hygeine, cycling
----
Read much YES! Magazine before that. Remembering the sidebar on "what if I don't have a calling?": hogwash. But just begin where you are with whoever is there. Not separate from them--you're not--.
----
My Point Loma grandma is off to Salt Lake City to (?) care for ailing (black sheep? smoker) sister. I'm here with grandad.
Packed up as if leaving for weeks this morning. Just me and pack, ready to go.
Was hard, but not as hard as before, to do that.
Ordered pattern and cloth to sew lightweight pants: green chili pepper #128, per jardine's rec.--see del.icio links/_beyond backpacking_. -$28: 8' grey (nylon) quilt cloth, -$9: pattern, elastic.
----
Updated 7knots crew profile: it is linked to from j9k.org/cv. Looked at other profiles there with photos: a genius {very accomplished, 10yrs my junior} engineer/artist guy is just below me.
Trying not to be self-critical, but think my profile just expresses a sort of oddness, unease: You're not here to get a crew position/temp job/whatever, Colin, but to use the applying as a vehicle for some sort of expression/discovery? Which has an effect on concept of self, life, propriety, in general?
{I really just want to be homeless? To call 211, ask for housing help, food, to be able to say I have no address, to apply for foodstamps? Do I really? Is that my calling? Which I've been avoiding?}
----
There may be a fundamental misdirection in making profiles like that, in writing here. The photo should not be of me, but of what I'm looking at, looking for.
"to be of service": the photo is of the ones I will serve.
"right livelihood": the description is . . .
----
Returning to the ???? {quality, way of being} of not writing. Grandad, sort of, I'm serving. It is 4pm. An hour to walk back. An hour to prepare for dinner. I nearly never eat with Grandma Ann, but here it is part of the routine. GAnn won't let me do anything? {yes, I could be a gentleman/insistent once in a while, maybe. Easier to stay out of way?} But here, a salad to make, rice to cook, we have jobs to do. Gann won't turn off the TV. But here there's a fancy TVless dining room with a view of the airport/skyscrapers/some of the bay where the sailboats, some old schooners?, some $$$ racers, were swiftly sailing today. And my grandma who's exasperated with my grandad (caregiver marathon fatigue?) is not there.
----
{the dog is not at} peace,
2017
peace,
2036
peace,
{Will I return to this and send it? Why?}
@16:29 was caught in re-reading, conversing-with-self mode when I hit:
"----
hygeine, cycling
----"
that released me, and I could leave it, made it home by 1700. That is the performance in "prfrmatv sp(ee)ch". I began to look at _Eat, Pray, Love_. . .
{the neighbor's dog, lonely, howling, whining, suffering, barking <<it's more peaceful in maid's room downstairs. Planes quieter too. Upstairs light may excite him/her.>>}
The considered title for this post:
terrible mind --> beautiful mind
Carolyn of the sifter/craig's list and of la jolla fantastic(?) frisbee has the former as her sig ("the mind is a terrible thing"). It stopped me a while the first time I read it. It seems to sum my attitude ever since I learned from TNH:
"Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out, I smile"
Wow, my mind is running like a maniac. I/my mind is making me miserable.
So, a recent (half-aware) theme has been: let the mind do all its crazy stuff. Let it. Follow it. Enable it {better: smooth its path}. Watch it and wonder why. Where is the goodness, helpfulness in this cycling, restlessness, frequent change of focus of the mind?
----
Here's some other speak-of-the-mind I scribbled while walking back:
{my job is to read YES! magazine} (intended for a particular spot)
{Do the least you need to do to cycle the mind so you can be content staying still/moving little.}
<<also (not while walking, but in the time since last posting) there was a concern/imagining about economic collapse-->>
{You may plan great movement, pretend to be preparing for great movement, yet never need to actually move.}
{Cutesy-- avoiding right livelihood/larger self?}
on to the old: (temporal collage/conversation between slices of time)
the substantial, caring, compassionate people never self-stimulate like this? Merton did? There is an other-focus. Merton did write for others. Only his journals perhaps like this. Peace--]
A new adventure. I'm in Point Loma. Laying on warm asphalt in the shade. [Sitting cross-leggéd.] On the grounds of a school.
Let many thoughts go since last written post. There is a quality in not writing. {in not having written.}
Mental hygeine. Vs engagement. One brings to mind rinsing, washing, cycling. The other, focus.
Met with mom. First time in nearly three years. Would be three years in January. I am her son. I saw anew who I am and who I've been. What I reproduce.
Avoiding self-critical reflex: the reflex to criticize self as inhuman, lobotomized.
[we had good fun, and a day at the beach like I've not had since I was a little kid (and a walk through her memory in OB, where she and dad lived before/after I was born), and just today I got _Eat, Pray, Love_ from the library. She recommended it. Had a good time attempting to explore/ explain issues related to monkhood/spiritual practice/creativity to grammie, mom, mom's friend, thanks to mom's friend's interest--was thinking of doing the two weeks at the monastery before committing self to job/mariner school.]
There were some "lobotomized Colin encounters feeling Mom" moments though. The resolution of them feels to me. . . to have ended well (nvr mind the grmr).
Really let things go--no weights, not lasting in the pool. Sort of catering to the smallest impulse. Want out? Let's go. [watching the cycling--how long do I need to be away before I can return and continue. Attempting to check in with larger self--the half-hour monastery bell-ringing, the leaving house to exercise every (early!!) am, pm (go to sleep.), regardless; awareness re: eating. The larger self that cares for body-- the self caring for the future, the longer(, wider, stiller, ever-) view, rather than the moment's engagement.]
Let's go.
And some days/nights mindless eating and probably reading was an issue. I watched "self"(?) cease to exist--all that was there was a strange sense of not being nourished, wondering what to eat.
Think it was lack of fat--the visit with Chef Jem (up to 4oz raw butter/day, 3pints/day raw goat milk +bee pollen +spirulina--see last photo in recent album), +kombucha, +kefir, helped. Things that will satiate, was avoiding: the whiting, and the parmesan/romano too salty for me to want to eat. So using the hiking staple: cream cheese. Is cultured, and --
----
very nice day here
----
Let the temp app go, haven't followed up. Let it go.
All that I was following was the MMD app--Merchant Mariner's Doc. Physical Monday, -$60. 8-10 passport photos (6 for SIU app) -$50. Up to Long Beach REC (regional exam ctr) Tuesday (-$140 mmd app, -$20 bus fare), and Mike M. is up there, so why not stay.
Thinking I'd stay in mts, but remembered the coldness, darkness--so maybe by the sea. Santa Monica?
Remembering the soloness. Why wander around alone?
{remembering the mad eating of free, unbought bread. . . how did mind forget? Did it?}
Now, there are many crewing opportunities. Found the Latitude 38 list. Big baja cruise left SD 10/27. Let them go.
A famous sailor, BJ Caldwell (briefly youngest solo circumnavigator--he didn't tell, I searched on his email), is delivering a yacht to Hawaii, leaving SD within a week.
A trimaran leaving Morro Bay for SF within two weeks. And redpill too, and so on.
----
I called 211 searching for public health clinics for the physical. Later I thought to call the Maritime Institute (local training school) for referral to someone familiar with the coast guard forms.
----
Read _Spartina_, about a guy who makes his living from the sea in Rhode Island, and about his lover, and the boat he built, and a hurricane. It and _Gone With the Wind_ were nearly the only real {as in paper} non-Harlequin books left. Got several more ebooks: _Magic Mountain_, Obama's, _GWtW_, David Foster Wallace, _Atlas Shrugged_. Started _Magic Mtn_--already deeply relevant, memorable: time is Lethe, and so is change of place. And DFW is good/great.
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hygeine, cycling
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Read much YES! Magazine before that. Remembering the sidebar on "what if I don't have a calling?": hogwash. But just begin where you are with whoever is there. Not separate from them--you're not--.
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My Point Loma grandma is off to Salt Lake City to (?) care for ailing (black sheep? smoker) sister. I'm here with grandad.
Packed up as if leaving for weeks this morning. Just me and pack, ready to go.
Was hard, but not as hard as before, to do that.
Ordered pattern and cloth to sew lightweight pants: green chili pepper #128, per jardine's rec.--see del.icio links/_beyond backpacking_. -$28: 8' grey (nylon) quilt cloth, -$9: pattern, elastic.
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Updated 7knots crew profile: it is linked to from j9k.org/cv. Looked at other profiles there with photos: a genius {very accomplished, 10yrs my junior} engineer/artist guy is just below me.
Trying not to be self-critical, but think my profile just expresses a sort of oddness, unease: You're not here to get a crew position/temp job/whatever, Colin, but to use the applying as a vehicle for some sort of expression/discovery? Which has an effect on concept of self, life, propriety, in general?
{I really just want to be homeless? To call 211, ask for housing help, food, to be able to say I have no address, to apply for foodstamps? Do I really? Is that my calling? Which I've been avoiding?}
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There may be a fundamental misdirection in making profiles like that, in writing here. The photo should not be of me, but of what I'm looking at, looking for.
"to be of service": the photo is of the ones I will serve.
"right livelihood": the description is . . .
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Returning to the ???? {quality, way of being} of not writing. Grandad, sort of, I'm serving. It is 4pm. An hour to walk back. An hour to prepare for dinner. I nearly never eat with Grandma Ann, but here it is part of the routine. GAnn won't let me do anything? {yes, I could be a gentleman/insistent once in a while, maybe. Easier to stay out of way?} But here, a salad to make, rice to cook, we have jobs to do. Gann won't turn off the TV. But here there's a fancy TVless dining room with a view of the airport/skyscrapers/some of the bay where the sailboats, some old schooners?, some $$$ racers, were swiftly sailing today. And my grandma who's exasperated with my grandad (caregiver marathon fatigue?) is not there.
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{the dog is not at} peace,
2017
peace,
2036
peace,
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