i can understand this feeling perfectly

Memory of another outing

Kayaking is king

Seriously, kayaking rocks. It's a great time, and I personally give it my "certified outdoor fun" stamp of approval. Now I just need to buy a kayak (a cheap kayak, we're not made out of money, people) and get Tony to sign up for swimming lsns. (That's code for "swimming lessons" for those not in the know.)



This is the underwater shipwreck we found. Fortunately, at that time I also possessed an UNDERWATER CAMERA to preserve that moment of discovery.

welcome world

His and Hers

Gracefully

commodities - a brief examination of paper

Excerpted from here:

From: hizuki0723
Date: October 28, 2006 1:55:11 AM EDT
To: Dan Kennedy
Subject: A Paper-Related Problem for a Paper Expert

Dear Mr. K.:

I'm not sure if you are familiar with the Asian paper industry, but here is my paper-related problem anyway: Why is it that recycled paper products are more expensive than those made from fresh pieces chopped off from trees? And just how can we stop the nuns in a Catholic girls' high school from using those pale-green, fragile, and stinky recycled paper products? If you can't think of anything to respond with, that's OK. I understand. Asia (Taiwan, to be exact) is a little bit too far from NYC.

Sincerely,
Victoria Chang

Hi, Victoria—

Sorry for the delay. I know you wrote me back in October and I'm just now getting around to typing out a reply. I had actually worked out a dance-based reply for your note. It was inspired by some of the moves that Ladysmith Black Mambazo do when they interpret the lyrics to Paul Simon's 1986 hit album Graceland. It was intended to be a festive number that would be interpreted as the dancer (me) being trapped in an Asian all-girl Catholic school and taking a stand against a gaggle of nuns. It got weird, though. Somewhere along the line, my routine took a pretty big departure from Ladysmith Black Mambazo's traditional steps and veered left into a crazy drugged-up (DayQuil) rave number that ultimately failed to address your question regarding the price point of recycled paper products in the Taiwan market. Anyway, on the price thing: it costs more to do the right thing—plain and simple. Want to eat food without pesticide's and bioengineering's dirty mitts all over it? Want to support a family farm instead of those huge multibillion-dollar conglomerates that buy out family farms by signing folks to half-million-dollar debts, then sitting them down in front of a thick rule book from the parent company about how to work their family farm for massive productivity? Cool, but, you know, put your money where your mouth is, sister. Same goes for paper: Want recycled product instead of sucking up the sweet, sweet discount offered by a huge paper house raking another patch of clear-cut through what's left of our globe's forests? Cool, but it might cost a buck more. You know what? I don't even think stuff costs more as much as some things have cost too little for too long. You know what I mean? We were never supposed to get a 4-pound chicken breast for $2.99. Hell, chicken breasts were never even supposed to be 4 pounds. But huge corporate farms get the birds beefed up on drugs, cram 90,000 of them into a shed instead of a few hundred, a gigantic grocery retailer orders 7 million at a time, as opposed to the small family-owned store ordering maybe 50 a week, and all of a sudden everybody gets used to the idea of enormous chicken breasts for three bucks. You know what I mean? Best lesson in the world to learn the easy way: the cheap stuff always costs you more sooner or later. And I've said this next phrase a million times, although never in this context—but here goes:

I think the nuns are on to something, Vicky.

Does any of this even apply to the paper situation in Taiwan? I have no idea, as I've lived a relatively sheltered life in an orgy of middle-class conveniences.

If it's any consolation, I lack fortitude.

ice cream (another name)

On the walk back




the singular path of a firefly.

on the river

this guy found something funny...

Books Don't Take You Anywhere

1000 Islands

Tones and I went for a hike and found all this:

yesterday's grey & the black hat

did fun stuff with grey, shelly and black hat. Yogurt was consumed.

A very brief portion of my day was spent visiting three lake sturgeon. Beautifully ugly creatures, sturgeon can live up to 100 years.

Prehistoric, they can grow larger than a man and weigh up to 800 pounds. Once located within the United States throughout the Great Lakes, now the last major populations of lake sturgeon can only be found in Michigan and Wisconsin.

Sturgeon feed by suctioning up bottom dwelling organisms with rubbery, protruding lips. They extend their lips to vacuum up soft, live food which they swallow whole due to their lack of teeth. Near the lips the lake sturgeon have taste buds on and around their barbels (whisker like things).

Sturgeon have a low reproductive rate and usually do not begin to spawn until they are 15 to 25 years old.

Very similar to humans, these sturgeon.

closer is not always better

after work

tony, andy & pha



justin

McNuggets - McNamara style

This morning Tony (and THE BAND) started day 2 of recording.

Unfortunately, one song didn't have lyrics yet, but Tony still really wanted to record it. Trying to get inspired, he spent some time walking around with his notebook and pen jotting things down.

As I left for work Tony, standing at the top of the stairs in his pajamas, said in genuinely sorrowful voice, "Don't ever become a musician. It's a lot of stress. Right now I feel like I'm getting ready for a midterm."

I thought carefully about this driving to work. And then I remembered the last time they practiced.

if pablo only knew (or ode to corn revisited)

In other news, I read a piece on McSweeney by John Hodgman which made me laugh. I have included an excerpt here:

I have heard a lot recently about the role of writing, song, music, painting, in the tragic blank space in our souls that this event has left behind. Of course, this preoccupation is largely a result of an unconscious bias of the media. If pig farmers had as much currency with NPR as literary novelists, we would be hearing just as much about the healing power of bacon. And knowing that power well, I can say that it is certainly comparable to the reading of a sensitive short story as far as comfort goes...

the name says it all