My fake publisher asked me to explain why I love great whites in this piece I'm writing. I told him I didn't know why I love them, and then he said I should write something to try to figure it out.
So, why I love great whites...
I'm obsessed with teeth. Not just shark teeth, but all teeth. I don't know why. They're shiny, and white, and when I look at teeth, nice teeth, it makes me feel calm. Sharks have lots of nice teeth. But, really I like great white teeth. And tiger shark teeth. I don't like sand shark teeth. Or alligator teeth. Okay...I like triangular teeth.
Fuck, I'm an engineer, of course I like triangles.
Great whites have well organized teeth. I like that. And they are well arranged. It's weird that they seem a bit obese, and I don't normally like that. They have the fattest necks ever. But for some reason, I like that on great whites.
That Jaws poster. I loved that poster. I used to cut the advert for Jaws out of the paper and put it on the wall next to my bed. Why would I like that poster? Because the shark has the element of surprise. I felt more like the shark than the person swimming.
Which is weird. I should take a poll. When people look at that advert, who do they identify more with? Am I the only one who thinks I'm the shark?
No one tells a great white what to do. They can't be tamed or kept in captivity.
I often have dreams that great whites take me to live with them. In those dreams I feel like I'm flying, I feel protected by the sharks, and I feel like the sharks have adopted me. I have always, insanely maybe, believed that even if I encountered a great white in the wild it wouldn't eat me. I also believe a great white would let me pet it.
If I were a great white, no one could fuck with me except for an orca. I saw a video of a great white getting fucked up by an orca. I didn't love it less. I felt bad for it. I like orcas too. But I don't like their teeth. They have the stupidest teeth ever. And they're totally black and white. Great whites are mottled. They can hide against the rocks.
Great whites travel a lot. So do I. They hang out in packs sometimes, but are really loners. Other sharks know how to do math. Great whites might know how to do math.
You can't ever tell what a great white is thinking. It doesn't have a pupil. It's like their dead. Which is weird. Because I don't like snakes because they don't have a pupil.
When people display dead great whites they're still scary.
Sometimes I think it would be fun if I could climb into a great white's mouth and ride around in there while the shark is swimming. I think it would be funny if the shark swam up to a boat and opened its mouth. Then I would wave to the people and then the shark would close its mouth and swim away. We would laugh about that for hours. The shark would keep saying "Did you SEE their faces when I swam up? I thought I was going to die laughing when you were all like "hi people on the boat!""
Time to meet everyone for dinner. I'm going to do my experiment. I still don't know why I love great whites.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
climbing grade love
I've been thinking about love, and lack there of, lately. That's because I think it's strange when people say they love me. What exactly does that mean?
So this morning I got an idea. The word "love" should be prefaced with a grade, like a rock climb. That way everyone knows exactly what the claim of love implies.
Here's a suggested scale:
5.4 love - You're interested in love, but more as a tourist. You don't want to do anything too hard. You want to say that you loved, even if it was just a weekend trip. 5.4 love is predictable and easy. You feel a sense of accomplishment because you don't know there's more to it than what you experienced.
5.6 love - Now you're trying a little harder. There's a few challenges, but that's because you don't know what you're doing. Endurance is usually an issue with 5.6 love. You get pumped before you top out. A person who attempts 5.6 love will make a decision to step up the game or just go back to 5.4 love.
5.8 love - You can definitely say you're a lover now. But, maybe not the kind that knows how to handle challenges and cruxes. This is married people love, with the spouse and kids, looking at the harder stuff but being to scared to try it. People in 5.8 love like to play it safe. It might be challenging at first, but then it gets boring, but at least you know what to expect. There's little chance of getting hurt on 5.8 love.
5.9 love - There are a few crux moves here, and you might be surprised how hard it is sometimes. You might find yourself thinking "this is harder than 5.9 love should be". It's a weird place. You want something more exciting than 5.8 love, but you are afraid to push yourself to a 5.10 love. Basically, you're mediocre. Just go back to 5.8 love and quit wasting people's time.
5.10 love - This is the perfect love. Solid, but with challenges. It shows you've mastered love. It's the last love grade before things get start getting weird. 5.10 love requires dedication and style.
5.11 love - This is where love starts to get bad. Sure, it's great, but all you're doing is potentially hurting yourself hanging on to little bits and pieces of things, trying to make a route out of them. There may be some good holds to get you to the top, but there's a lot of crimp shit too.
5.12 love - Now you've over worked love. You've put it on some pedestal and are chasing after it to the exclusion of other, healthier things. You might feel great when you top out on 5.12 love, but then you have to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. Pretty soon you're going to be thinking that 5.12 love is really scary, and the rewards aren't that great. 5.12 love always hurts. It's like a Roy Orbison song.
5.13 love - This love is best described with an image: pet bunny in a pot on the stove.
So this morning I got an idea. The word "love" should be prefaced with a grade, like a rock climb. That way everyone knows exactly what the claim of love implies.
Here's a suggested scale:
5.4 love - You're interested in love, but more as a tourist. You don't want to do anything too hard. You want to say that you loved, even if it was just a weekend trip. 5.4 love is predictable and easy. You feel a sense of accomplishment because you don't know there's more to it than what you experienced.
5.6 love - Now you're trying a little harder. There's a few challenges, but that's because you don't know what you're doing. Endurance is usually an issue with 5.6 love. You get pumped before you top out. A person who attempts 5.6 love will make a decision to step up the game or just go back to 5.4 love.
5.8 love - You can definitely say you're a lover now. But, maybe not the kind that knows how to handle challenges and cruxes. This is married people love, with the spouse and kids, looking at the harder stuff but being to scared to try it. People in 5.8 love like to play it safe. It might be challenging at first, but then it gets boring, but at least you know what to expect. There's little chance of getting hurt on 5.8 love.
5.9 love - There are a few crux moves here, and you might be surprised how hard it is sometimes. You might find yourself thinking "this is harder than 5.9 love should be". It's a weird place. You want something more exciting than 5.8 love, but you are afraid to push yourself to a 5.10 love. Basically, you're mediocre. Just go back to 5.8 love and quit wasting people's time.
5.10 love - This is the perfect love. Solid, but with challenges. It shows you've mastered love. It's the last love grade before things get start getting weird. 5.10 love requires dedication and style.
5.11 love - This is where love starts to get bad. Sure, it's great, but all you're doing is potentially hurting yourself hanging on to little bits and pieces of things, trying to make a route out of them. There may be some good holds to get you to the top, but there's a lot of crimp shit too.
5.12 love - Now you've over worked love. You've put it on some pedestal and are chasing after it to the exclusion of other, healthier things. You might feel great when you top out on 5.12 love, but then you have to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. Pretty soon you're going to be thinking that 5.12 love is really scary, and the rewards aren't that great. 5.12 love always hurts. It's like a Roy Orbison song.
5.13 love - This love is best described with an image: pet bunny in a pot on the stove.
Monday, November 9, 2009
banff film fest wrap party
Apologies for the stream of consciousness writing. I have a writing deadline and am not supposed to be writing on my blog...
So, I showed up to the wrap party fashionably late. That was what doomed me. When I got there I ran into Lana, who was my volunteer coordinator last year. I hadn't brought any money so I thought I wasn't going to be drinking. Instead Lana, who had been drinking, stuffed about 6 drink tickets in my pocket. Oy vey.
Then I ran into M and N, who were talking to this Jon guy. Jon said my turquoise necklace from Nepal was ceramic (I wasn't wearing the necklace, so he didn't see it, he was just being a negative nancy). Then some tall French (?) guy named Alain, who knows Jon, came up behind me and pulled my hair really really hard. I turned around and was like "dude, what the fuck???" in a mean way and that little french prick just smiled and said "I like your hair". Fucking french.
Then this guy who looked like a child molester started stalking me and I had to hang out with N but no matter where we went he kept following me. Then I went to get another drink at the bar and was accosted by a midget. The dude fucking glommed on to me and kept trying to touch me and wanted to introduce me to all his friends. I was like uh, I have to go smoke, exit stage left.
But the dude followed me outside, where I was next accosted by some stupid little snowboarding punk who was wearing this totally retarded outfit and who kept trying to tell me a story about some invisible animal that he made up that's his only friend. Finally I was like "if I give you a cigarette will you leave me alone?" I had to give him two, because after he finished the first one he came back. Oh, and that kid told me my writing probably sucks because you have to be ego less when you write. Out of the mouths of 16 year old punks. And midget boy told me about writing one line haikus about mountaineering, and I was like dude, if it's only one line, it's not a haiku, but then realized it wasn't worth arguing about when he recited his haiku "men, we will go into the mountains, and we will climb to the sky" or some shit like that. He puts his poems on a web site. Ech.
Finally I saw N, who I think was hiding from me because I was making fun of him because he can't swim and said "octopuses" instead of "octopi", and F. I mouthed "help me" to F and we stuck N with the midget while F and I went and got cake. Actually, F got cake, but I just pulled the strawberries off the tops of the pieces of cake and ate those. No one seemed to notice because people kept eating the cake. F said "that creepy guy is still following you" and I thought he meant the midget but it was actually the child molester guy. So we went over to the coffee and F revealed a top secret aspect of his story which he had just found out before the wrap party. F jumped up and down for like 5 minutes after he told me the ending. Like, seriously jumped up and down. It was cute.
Then F went away and N got mad because I wouldn't dance with him on the dance floor, so he walked away, and the midget came up to me again. I tried to lose him at the bar, but then he took me over to a table and introduced me to some good looking guys.
Then I started talking to this swiss guy named U. U was mad I missed his presentation on the Eiger. I mentioned I have a friend who's climbed the Eiger 4 times and U said he's climbed it 37 times. I'm going to guess he's a water sign, and that we wouldn't have gotten along anyway, but I'll never know because midget guy came up to me and yelled at me for dropping pretzels all over U because I had two handfuls of them because I was hungry and drunk so the only way I could eat the pretzels was to take a bite out of what ever piece was hanging out between my fingers and then sometimes I would accidentally squeeze my pretzels too hard and they would break and fall on U's little vest thing he was wearing. Oh, and I punched U in the arm for god knows what reason and a pretzel flew out of my fist and accidentally hit him on the ear but he was laughing. Uh, from what I remember.
After midget boy yelled at me for dropping pretzels on U he was telling everyone to do these hula hoop things. Everyone was horrible. Midget boy was trying to show off I think, but he was the worst. While he was distracted with the hula hoop I ran away and found N, but by then I was tired, drunker than drunk, and ready to leave.
U followed me over to N and I was going to say goodbye to him too but midget boy accosted me again as U was approaching me and U just waved to me and walked away. So I headed up the stairs and then midget boy grabbed my arm and I do NOT like being touched by random people so I palmed his face and pushed him backwards and then ran up the steps. Then N ran up after me to make sure I remembered where I left my coat because he had promised me earlier in the evening that if I got really drunk he would keep track of where I left my jacket. Because I was so drunk I think I said "Nice work soldier. You remembered your mission, and executed it well." Then I saluted him and almost fell over.
...and woke up with a class 4 hangover for a 730 am conference call. My head hurts. The end.
So, I showed up to the wrap party fashionably late. That was what doomed me. When I got there I ran into Lana, who was my volunteer coordinator last year. I hadn't brought any money so I thought I wasn't going to be drinking. Instead Lana, who had been drinking, stuffed about 6 drink tickets in my pocket. Oy vey.
Then I ran into M and N, who were talking to this Jon guy. Jon said my turquoise necklace from Nepal was ceramic (I wasn't wearing the necklace, so he didn't see it, he was just being a negative nancy). Then some tall French (?) guy named Alain, who knows Jon, came up behind me and pulled my hair really really hard. I turned around and was like "dude, what the fuck???" in a mean way and that little french prick just smiled and said "I like your hair". Fucking french.
Then this guy who looked like a child molester started stalking me and I had to hang out with N but no matter where we went he kept following me. Then I went to get another drink at the bar and was accosted by a midget. The dude fucking glommed on to me and kept trying to touch me and wanted to introduce me to all his friends. I was like uh, I have to go smoke, exit stage left.
But the dude followed me outside, where I was next accosted by some stupid little snowboarding punk who was wearing this totally retarded outfit and who kept trying to tell me a story about some invisible animal that he made up that's his only friend. Finally I was like "if I give you a cigarette will you leave me alone?" I had to give him two, because after he finished the first one he came back. Oh, and that kid told me my writing probably sucks because you have to be ego less when you write. Out of the mouths of 16 year old punks. And midget boy told me about writing one line haikus about mountaineering, and I was like dude, if it's only one line, it's not a haiku, but then realized it wasn't worth arguing about when he recited his haiku "men, we will go into the mountains, and we will climb to the sky" or some shit like that. He puts his poems on a web site. Ech.
Finally I saw N, who I think was hiding from me because I was making fun of him because he can't swim and said "octopuses" instead of "octopi", and F. I mouthed "help me" to F and we stuck N with the midget while F and I went and got cake. Actually, F got cake, but I just pulled the strawberries off the tops of the pieces of cake and ate those. No one seemed to notice because people kept eating the cake. F said "that creepy guy is still following you" and I thought he meant the midget but it was actually the child molester guy. So we went over to the coffee and F revealed a top secret aspect of his story which he had just found out before the wrap party. F jumped up and down for like 5 minutes after he told me the ending. Like, seriously jumped up and down. It was cute.
Then F went away and N got mad because I wouldn't dance with him on the dance floor, so he walked away, and the midget came up to me again. I tried to lose him at the bar, but then he took me over to a table and introduced me to some good looking guys.
Then I started talking to this swiss guy named U. U was mad I missed his presentation on the Eiger. I mentioned I have a friend who's climbed the Eiger 4 times and U said he's climbed it 37 times. I'm going to guess he's a water sign, and that we wouldn't have gotten along anyway, but I'll never know because midget guy came up to me and yelled at me for dropping pretzels all over U because I had two handfuls of them because I was hungry and drunk so the only way I could eat the pretzels was to take a bite out of what ever piece was hanging out between my fingers and then sometimes I would accidentally squeeze my pretzels too hard and they would break and fall on U's little vest thing he was wearing. Oh, and I punched U in the arm for god knows what reason and a pretzel flew out of my fist and accidentally hit him on the ear but he was laughing. Uh, from what I remember.
After midget boy yelled at me for dropping pretzels on U he was telling everyone to do these hula hoop things. Everyone was horrible. Midget boy was trying to show off I think, but he was the worst. While he was distracted with the hula hoop I ran away and found N, but by then I was tired, drunker than drunk, and ready to leave.
U followed me over to N and I was going to say goodbye to him too but midget boy accosted me again as U was approaching me and U just waved to me and walked away. So I headed up the stairs and then midget boy grabbed my arm and I do NOT like being touched by random people so I palmed his face and pushed him backwards and then ran up the steps. Then N ran up after me to make sure I remembered where I left my coat because he had promised me earlier in the evening that if I got really drunk he would keep track of where I left my jacket. Because I was so drunk I think I said "Nice work soldier. You remembered your mission, and executed it well." Then I saluted him and almost fell over.
...and woke up with a class 4 hangover for a 730 am conference call. My head hurts. The end.
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