it's a public service i do

symphony/cacophony

I just had the most interesting experience: after cleaning the kitchen I took out the trash, and stepping outside I immediately heard the loud, low, growling hum of a large diesel truck (imagine it now, please). Think like 4 As below middle C, a clearly definable tone, and right next door. Then, the wail of a single chainsaw comes in, joined almost immediately by another right next to it. Looks like a roadside crew is taking care of some wayward tree limbs. Finally, a third chainsaw breaks in from our neighbors in the opposite direction, forming a trio of loud shredding quasi-tonal noise over the guttural drone of industry's foremost bass instrument, the diesel engine. Perhaps I've been listening to too much Sunn 0))), but I was out there entranced for several minutes, my eyes rolled back in my head, the world my impromptu surround-sound concert.

Update, 9:44am: Oh man, a helicopter just flew by!

capsule

of pizza and trips and saline drips

Hav had her birthday party saturday night at Puget Sound Pizza ("I used to live here, you know!" *ahem*), and it was karaoke night, and it was all around a freakin' blast. Except, although, I only had 2 pieces of pizza, and the beer gremlins kept bringing & bringing, and my hummingbird metabolism did not approve. I guess I rushed the stage at one point. Well, attempted to, but fell. At least everybody laughed. From there out it's all brief flashes until the bright lights of the ambulance. Apparently as everyone was leaving I walked off at a ninety-degree turn and ended up not far but on the ground, not moving. Cut my chin & arms up pretty bad. Stupid. So stupid. Had to go to the hospital, 6 stitches in my chin, and the Lord's best invention, the Saline Drip. They later told me my bac was up to .22, oh dear. I remember, as they were wheeling me to the CAT-scan machine, waxing poetic to the nurse about my dislike of hospitals, insightfully commenting that they force one to confront the reality of human frailty. Hm.

The last nurse to tend to me before my discharge sincerely recommended I check into rehab, and lauded Hava for staying by me, because not many would, or should. Maybe it was her irish accent that caused me to not take it personally. And then, the most sublime moment of the day, once discharged I was shoeless, so here's Hava and I walking down the freshly rained-on sidewalk by St Joe's at 9 am, me barefoot and still sporting IV bandage and outpatient bracelet, face all stitched up, dried blood on my arms, and one of my coworkers drives by, waving. "Hi Josh!" "Oh, hey, hi!" Surreal.

And now, my mind is a quiet calm place, human frailty fully face-on
confronted.

back to burroughs season

holy shit, i just killed the biggest spider i've ever seen in our garage: one of those fackers with a silver dollar-sized body and thick fuzzy legs... but the coup de grace was the web/nest, in which were trapped -- i shit you not -- no less than four other (less) giant victim spiders, white and crusty, evil spider-life drained clean from them by that big momammajamma. it's on now, spiderbitches.

out from out where

This is what happens when Alan Moore gets married. Why couldn't it be me, Alan?

tikkun olam

In my first hour at work yesterday, I received a strange phone call from an innocuous-sounding lady who told me I had helped her once and she really appreciated it, and asked would I be in for the rest of the day. I worked until close yesterday, and decided it would be ok to tell her so.

So, minutes turn into hours, etc. and Lo, just as I'm about to head out for lunch a coworker directs me to a lady caller: she looks about in her early 40s, white turtleneck and a floral-print vest. Slight resemblance to Diane Keaton. She has a white plastic bag in her hand, looks like a book inside. She says, "Are you Joshua?"

me: Yes? [quizzical expression]
Mysterious Lady: You helped me once, and I really appreciated it, and I'll never forget it.
me: [placating look, becoming suspicious as she brings the bag into view]
ML: I belong to Hadassah, and I was talking to the LORD, and he told me to give you this. [hands me the bag]
me: Oh...?!

So I take the bag, say "thank you" and after she offers to write a note to my managers saying it's a gift so they don't think I'm stealing, we politely & amiably take our leaves of each other. Later I look into the bag, and it's a novelization of the Bible. I fervently hope there's an inscription inside, but there is none. After briefly considering selling it to HPB for $1.25, I decided it's worth much more than that not only as a story to tell people, but in essence, what I have here, now, is a holy relic of some kind. Divinely ordained, that I might have it. I'm not making light of it, really -- I think it is fascinating that somebody acted on what they felt was divine guidance, and that act was to give me, Josh, a book. The world is indeed an endlessly interesting place.