Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Am I a man dreaming of being a butterfly or a woman upwardly mobile on Moh's hardness scale?

I've been stewing a lot about metamorphosis recently -- the actual thing, not a metaphor.  Well, maybe the metaphor a little bit.  (OK, a lot.  But I won't go into that here.)  Mostly I think about how caterpillars dissolve in the cocoon into slurry, and emerge as butterflies with memories of their lowly caterpillar life.  (I think I've been a caterpillar, and I've definitely been slurry... is that good?)

There's a theory, probably on the list to be debunked, but interesting, nonetheless, that butterflies and caterpillars are two different species, and there's a "deathlike intermission", followed by the reincarnation of a new species.  So while I've been thinking about that, a friend tells me about a service that converts human remains into diamonds.

Is our time spent as ashes in an urn (or suitcase, as the case may be) merely a death-like intermission before we become diamonds?  Is reincarnation available for a few thousand dollars?  What would it be like to be a diamond?  I've never really liked diamonds much, but this changes it.

Remember when Agent 99 used her diamond ring to get out of the phone booth?  Because diamonds can cut glass.  Even though the condition of being stuck in a phone booth that's filling up with water is getting increasingly rare, it's cool to consider saving lives after death, because you're a Number 10 on the hardness scale.  I think I'm a negative three in my human condition (scratched by harsh words), but it is merely temporary.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

The Otzi's Shoes Edition

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  I'm having a little crisis of the spreadsheet, I may know how Rumpelstiltskin felt.  Wait, I have no idea.  What's that story about anyway?  Spreadsheets into data?  Anyway, I've created a bunch of formulas that

are built on top of other formulas and on and on, and you get to the end, like 12 steps later and it doesn't work, and my attention span, as you've surely noticed, is 3 seconds long, which doesn't lend itself to backtracking.  It's kind of awkward, because I've spent weeks on it by now. 
And, every single time I mention Excel, someone says, "Oh, so do you do pivot tables?"  NO.  I do not!   And  I think, these good people have placed trust in me, I hope I'm worthy.  And then I look at my badge, and it's all good again.  Aries, don't back track this week.  Forward march, unidirectional flow.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Have you heard about this?  That dogs align themselves on a north-south axis in order to poop?  They noticed it because the canines align to magnetic north, not true north, which shifts over time and across the planet.  Could that explain how great dogs are?  Loyal, happy, always willing to go get the stick -- they never judge, they never say "Sheesh!  If you want the stick so badly, stop throwing it!  I am not going to enable this unhealthy, self-sabbotaging behavior.  Get your own damn stick."  Dogs never agonize, "Oh, what should I do with my day, my life, my chew toy."  No, they just pant and run, and bring the stick back smiling.  Anyway, Taurus, if you're looking for a money-making idea, I think you could sell something touting the benefits of pooping with the poles.  (No, that wasn't a reference to  eastern Europeans.) A book?  Workshops?  Toilets that pivot?  Oh, just typing the word "pivot" gave me a little shudder.  (NO, I do not do pivot tables.)  Let me know when you're rich from this idea.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Did you know that dolphins snack on puffer fish toxins to deliberately get high?  You really can't blame them - you'd need a little respite from reality too, if you knew your people were getting herded into a cove and either slaughtered or taken into cubicles captivity to do tricks, like pivot tables jumping through hoops.  Weird, it just struck me how much the humans love to make one another (and even the other creatures) jump through hoops.  Gemini, let the hoops spin around you this week.  More hula-hooping and less jumping through.   May it be so.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21) I've been on a little jag of reading books and articles about enhancing productivity, which, if you knew how little relevance that has in my life, you would undoubtedly find hilarious.  The basic premise of these books is that the reader is way too busy with way too much important stuff, and the trick is to prioritize.  Every advice starts out the same way:  DON'T RESPOND TO E-MAIL UNTIL THE IMPORTANT STUFF IS DONE.  But that's half my list!  They never mention my problem, which is:  I have about two, maybe three things to do.  Totally within reach.  I write them down on a list, and change the font a few times, save it to google docs, and take a long nap.  That's not addressed in these books. Cancer, do you have any advice for me?

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  Did I already say this -- that Shackleton has a twitter feed about his trip to Antarctica?  Now that I know what twitter is, I think that's a very cool idea and if I ever had the time, I would totally follow Shack.  Tell long stories about an arduous journey over time in 140 characters or less.  Bertha, the drill rig also has twitter.  I still can't bring myself to sign up for Twitter.  It feels eight-track-tapeish to me.  But Leo, if you tweet, I will follow you.  

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  If anyone has any tips about visiting Death Valley, bring them on.  I plan to do that last winter.  (Time travel.)  And, speaking of one of my favorite shows, Time Tunnel, I'm going to visit THE tunnel today with one of my favorite people, and I can hardly wait.  Cheers, Virgo.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   Speaking of time travel, this struck me.  Researchers are searching for time travelers on the internet by pre-dating requests for contact via twitter.  Example, posting, on January 14, a request to tweet the resarchers by January 1 if they're from another time.  No time travelers have been discovered in this fashion, Libra.  Personally, I bet they just aren't answering.  Because duh, time travelers aren't on The Twitter.  (I listened to an interview with that Twitter founder, and he called it "the twitter," so it's not like I'm making that up.  

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Have you heard of the Seahawks?  As I understand it, they're a group of grown men who tussle over a ball.  (There's only one ball -- I'm not sure why they don't just buy more, but maybe there's a shortage?).  At any rate, you should know this because everyone is not only talking about it, but dressing as it.  I know!  When will there be reality shows about paleontology, Scorpio?  Much quieter.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  So, I have this problem, and I know, it's total route talk, so skip ahead if you like.  But here it is:  I use hair ties because I don't like my hair in my face, and then I get that little headache from wearing it up, and then I don't like it in my face, and then I get the headache.  Up down up down, all day long.  And when the hair is down, the tie is on the wrist.  Here's the problem:  the circumference of the rubber bands these days are smaller than my wrist.  It's not like I have super big wrists or anything, right?  Give it to me straight, Sag:  do you think these sleeves make my wrists look big?  Me neither!  I think I'm perfectly perportioned in the wrist area.  Don't the people know that hair ties should be wrist sized?  

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  I started a little google doc to assemble information matching the native plant to its pollinator so that I can begin drawing the pairs.  I know what you're thinking, Cap.  "Does she have any work?"  This is my work.  (That, and reading about Otzi's shoes.)  But where to begin?  With the trees?  Herbaceous plants?  And why is it so hard to find specific information about the pollinators? Prunus emarginata:  insects.  That will never do!  You're almost halfway done with this difficult month.  The end is in sight. 

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  One of my pet peeves is when people call property "raw land".  It's just icky.  As if you could get e. coli from undeveloped property or something.  But we had a big windstorm here the other day, and I will confess that as I drove into town, I was thinking, "the roads are paved with firewood!"  Is that wrong?  Aquarius, accept things just as they are this week.  Don't look for added value because it has the opposite effect.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20) The other day I was in the coffee shop and this man I'd never seen came in with a huge umbrella, and it caught my attention.  For the obvious reasons.  My first thought was, OMG!  A plot is unfolding, my favorite plot, "stranger comes to town with mysterious object"!  So I was watching him, duh.  But he walked directly over to our table and said "Do I look funny?"  

I tried to explain that I spend my days looking for a plot, and being super excited if anything seems to be happening.  Of course he didn't get it.  How do you explain that to a random stranger with a giant umbrella?  Pisces, if you find yourself in that situation, make something up, don't try to explain yourself.  Here, put this in your pocket in case you need it this week.  "Oh, I was just admiring your remarkable umbrella!"  

Friday, January 10, 2014

N'3lvra (pronounced Kort-knee, the 3 is silent) got a letter!!

Dear Khortney,
 I was considering the qwerty keyboard layout and various failed attempts to remove it as the standard. I thought that an interesting idea would be to change alphabetical order to match the keyboard. I think the first step is to come up with an alphabet song in the qwerty order. Do you think this is a development that would aid our society, and will you use your celebrity to aid my cause.

Signed,

Pablo Magnifico

Dear Pablo,

That's brilliant.  Changing alphabetical order will lead to exciting, sensational, astonishing, unaparalleled opportunities for woman and mankind alike.  (Hey, guess what?  Someone gave me a list of 186 power words.  It's going to launch me into being monumental and successful, just like your idea.)

But back to you, Pablo.  It will be as easy as qwe, the letters formerly known as abc.  I'd recommend that we sing to the tune of "doe, a deer."  "Queue, a line I wait within, W a third of the world wide web, E, a sound, I make myself when I see a little mouse running across the floor [which I just did, but that's not part of the real song]..." and so on.  I will hurl myself and my collosal celebrity at this timely, gigantic opportunity with wonderful delighted energy.  (All of this, and I still have abundant, urgent, professional words left, absolutely free, on the list which is crammed with urgent stuff that may unlock fortunes!)  At any rate, I plan to use the secret power of this list in authentic partnership with my vast celebrity to unlock the power of your idea.

Hey, speaking of ideas, I was thinking of starting yet another religion.  It will involve gravity, which is here for you in your time of need, and will absolutely make your life better if you believe in it (not unlike qwerty), but if not, you'll probably float away.  Because gravity requires that we believe, with all our hearts.  What do you think?

Yours,
Khort-qneee

PS  It is sensational to get a letter, after all these years.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Horoscopes: The Goose Edition

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  At my booty call job, I was asked to create some spreadsheets to track permits.  
"Why am I doing this?", I asked my boss. 
"Because the brand new custom software that KC hired an outside firm to develop over several years and for several million dollars, which is undoubtedly one of the reasons you don't have a job anymore, doesn't have the capacity to track permits.  We've decided to move away from using white boards to monitor the status of the several thousand permits we issue and inspect.  I believe there was an issue with the marker smearing." 
"Can we do some alternate nostril breathing (ANB) together before we talk about this?" 
"Just one round." 
"One round together, but then I might continue doing hands free ANB." 
"Really?  Can you do that?" 
"I'm not sure.  But I can certainly concentrate on one nostril at a time."
 We continued to talk about this project, but every so often he'd say, "Are you listening or just thinking about your nose?"  Aries, don't think too much about your nostrils this week.  Think about them just the right amount.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  I went to a casino with The Nurse recently, and it was a weird basement-y place decked out to look like a Carribean Christmas. I doubled my money in an hour, which is, I suppose, the allure, and why my grandfather ended up sleeping on someone else's couch as an old, formerly rich man.  We sat down at the blackjack table, and after a bit I said to the man next to me, 
"So, you're from Boston?" 
"What are you, psychic?" 
"Uh, you have a pretty strong accent." 
"So what are you, a linguist?" 
"No, but I know one.  And, you're wearing a Patriots hat.' 
"So what are you, a haberdasher?"
Anyway, Taurus, I think millener is the term.  But be who you are this week.  I think you're a baker!  (Is "candlestick maker" still a career option?  I haven't heard of anyone choosing that lately, and yet, we still have candlesticks.  Go figure.)

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Speaking of candles, I was thinking back over 2013 and one of the
highlights was being the co-curator a tiny wax museum that involved one fly that fell into some candle wax.  We didn't get many visitors, and something happened to the fly -- time travel, or zealous cleaning person -- I'm not sure.  At any rate, I found a dead fly the other day and dropped it into some wax, trying to get that going again.  It wasn't the same, Gemini.  It seemed less magical and more horrible than I remember.  Do you think it was due to the color of the wax?  When will I ever see you?  

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21) Have you heard about the new thing where you wear a special little cap with probes that measures your brain waves, and feed that into a knitting machine which creates the scarf of your thoughts?  Yikes, that could be awkward, depending.  It also sounds like I'm making this up, but no.  Cancer, see if you can knit one of those scarves manually.  Without the cap, without the machine.  


Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  As long as I'm reflecting on highlights of the year, this was a damn good cake.  Leo, eat more cake.  Laugh and be merry.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  I have this thing that I call cancer of the ear, not to make light of cancer, which is a serious thing, (or used to be, before my niece cured it, but that's another story).  Anyway, it's not like a regular earache.  I was telling the lovely yogini about it, and she said that her father had a bug fly into his ear, stay in there for a while causing havoc, and then flew out!  Wouldn't it be cool if all cancer were in the form of an insect that just flew away?   But Virgo, be curious about the bug.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   Anyway, speaking of inventions, I've just learned that the Neanderthals, (the "th" is pronounced "t" these days, don't ask me why) invented string, and strung necklaces together.  String things together this week, Libra.  Tie unlikely bits up (in a humane, consensual way, of course), and celebrate string, one of the best inventions ever.  

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I was working on my spreadsheet the other day and came to a little problem, so I asked E-bro to help.  But then I got irritated and snappy, because he wanted to problem-solve it, (which, to be fair, was what I asked him for), but in fact, I just either wanted the answer, or I wanted to figure it out myself.  But as I was apologizing I noticed that I was actually sort of high from all of the spreadsheet work.  Mostly in a good way.  I believe trained monkeys could do this work, but as we all know, they wouldn't.  Have a good week, scorp!


Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  My little R. was home for a nice visit and brought his lovely friend who should probably travel by scallop shell because she looks exactly like Venus.  At any rate, I didn't see nearly enough of them, but that's the opposite problem that many have at the holidays (too much relatives), so I'm grateful for that.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): I think of all these things to write about, but when I sit down, two things happen:  1.  My mind goes blank; and 2.  I play freecell "while I'm thinking," (of course, all I'm thinking about is black nine on red ten.), or I write to my PP.  What's addictive about Freecell is that, unlike life itself, every hand is winnable.  In life, I haven't stumbled upon many hands that are winnable, but the win is in being gracious as we fail, not lashing out, not lashing in.  Drowning gracefully and gently without all that unseemly flailing.  Happy b-day, Cap.  It's your season.

Before.  Goose stuffed with citrus

After.  Note that the closest goose has a weird problem of
missing limbs, that strangely, none of us noticed until the end.
Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):   I thought I could create a podcast out of a lovely recent day, but I think it turns out you need more skill and magic than I have at my disposal to pull it off.  There are some snippets I liked, though, and there's one at the bottom of this post. It's pretty amateur-ish, David Goose Part 1. It may seem like route-talk, but you've gotta start somewhere.  

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20) Pisces, did I hear you say, "If I needed a hat, Betsy would just make me one!"  Of course she would.  Pick something out, my friends.  And another little clip here, Garbage. Please forgive me if it seems like too much blah blah blah.    

Thursday, January 2, 2014

What makes you think I have cats: the podcast

I've spent many of the last 24 hours trying to create a podcast, which is fun and engrossing and I think I'll probably quit other things in favor of this, because it's just like writing except that other people come up with the words!  How easy is that?  Not so easy, it turns out.  I spent many hours with people I love, trying to capture just why I love them so, what makes them so interesting and special, and trying to create an audio snapshot so that you can see it too.

They didn't seem too get irritated when I kept sticking the microphone in their face, asking questions, like, "C, can you explain what it is you're doing right now?  Yes, right there in the garbage can."  Etc.  

It may take a while because they're complicated people, and the editing program is also complicated, and I'm a slow learner.  I hope I can do it all justice.

Happy new year, dear friends.  Thanks for everything.

I'm excited to report that the author Celeste Ng has selected m y modern love essay to read for the Modern Love podcast next week. Suc...