Smart People Talking

"It is impossible to talk or to write without apparently throwing oneself helplessly open."
Herman Melville

Which is why some much prefer to listen or read.
Taking a late boat on Tuesday nights is always a pleasure 'cause can pick up City Arts & Lectures on the way up.  Last night was author Amitav Ghosh, who I have not read but need to.  He was asked a question by a Cal Professor (who delivered a short lecture before she got around to her question >:[) about his characters and post modern influences in Sea of Poppies.  His response was joyous, flitting from chapter forty of Moby Dick, to learning to sail, to falling in love with his characters.  His enthusiasm for his craft and the world was a 15 minute balm that soothed nine hours (seven billable) of grinding on distressed real estate, unpaid and sleazy contractors, ongoing partnership disputes:  talking and writing all day but limiting exposure; all advice qualified, written demands appropriately couched.

Awful night Monday, awake from 3:30 on with Brigid sleepwalking around, and the dog restless; out of Advil PM and back complaining.  Walked into the gym at 7:45, no sleep.  Fuck cardio and went into the yoga room, legs up against the wall and slept for an hour.  No time for any meaningful lunch, final 90 minute conference call starting at 4:30, wrung out, went back to pick up the bag at 6:25, with no intention of working out and fully intending to call it a down day.  But not crowded.  Slammed two bananas, let's give it a go, and after first circuit knew it was the right thing to do:

15 deep slow push-ups, stay really tight and flat
20 box squats, clean 2 16kg, 10 squat to press
20 renegade rows, 24kg
10+10 single leg squats to mid-size box. focus on slow and light touch down rather than depth
3x

10+10x2 16kg snatches, spike hard
6+6 windmills, 24kg
20 spike swings, 16kg, 20 sec rest, 20 24kg swings
10 dolphin to plank, again hard and low.
3x

That kicked my ass, but SO glad to do it.
No raw fish on the way to 8:10 boat, wtf is wrong with downtown.  Home to sink full of dirty dishes, dishwasher full of clean ones.  Sigh.  Snark Snark.  Great workout and good drive.  Residual thickness from T-day gone.

Today
Meetings in the City from 11:30 on, hit gym at 3:45 and spend an hour on elliptical sending sniper emails.  Fell asleep during 15 minute meditation, hour long MH class.  Bliss.  Home to a sink full of dirty dishes, dishwasher full of clean ones.  Sigh, small price for an hour of deep breathing.

Some Other Kind of Nut

"I used to be able to name every kind of nut, would drive my mother crazy . . ."
Harlan Pepper (aka Christopher Guest), Best in Show


Sunday, four mile marsh walk in the morning with Cinco, Ian, Brigid and the dogs, listening to The Staple Singers from the Fillmore in 1967 beat any homily I ever heard.
49ers don't always suck.
CT class:  spike swings are a blast; hardstyle rocks.
Awesome.
This morning, three hard fast miles and some core work, same this evening.
Two year old on the 6:20 boat singing Puff the Magic Dragon, such a sap.

Five More Breaths

"When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch.  When years described me as mature , the remedy prescribed was middle age.  In middle age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job."
John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley.

My AARP card came in the mail today.  I was going to chuck it but the list of offered discounts and benefits caught my eye and for this reason alone membership merits some thought.  But for my friend at L4/L5 physically I feel no different than I did in my early thirties, and much better than my late thirties, or mid forties.  In all other respects I'll take fifty any day, although, as evidenced by the post below, I am not sure I have actually matured much beyond thirteen.


Wednesday, three mile marsh walk with Brigid and Rose.  I had mentally checked out but the phone still rang a few times, and I found myself talking to a morose client with the phone in one hand, shooting pictures of a Peregrine falcon with the other.  Brigid was incredulous; she is a very patient kid, though she is increasingly embarrassed by me in public, which gives me even greater hope for her.


Thursday, back to the marsh in the morning.  It takes 35 minutes to roast four pounds of cubed butternut squash and in that time:


16kg swing, high pull, snatch combo 5+5
10 clean to five press l/r, 20kg
20 swings, 28kg
5x
Ate too much.

Friday.  Napped with dog.  Then ate too much.


This morning.  In for MH's Saturday 9:30.  He addressed the class beforehand, telling us it was going to be slow, Iyengar style class and if we got tired of the long holds, just back off. With nothing the day before was really strong, though my tree sucked.  We were holding poses forever, and with quads or whatever was screaming, it was always "five more breaths."  Yeah buddy let's do this.


Afternoon, needed some Kbell work, but just in a funk at home.  We always talk about go anywhere but I never do it, so took the 20kg to the park along with the external speaker and found a mostly flat spot under a large oak tree and put on Bob Marley.
First circuit was Brett Jones' 11/23 Goblet squat swing snatch ladder, but my snatches are still not there so stuck to all swings.  Second was 3,2,1 tgu ladder to 10 clean five press both sides, then 2,1 tgus, cleans and presses, then 1 tgu, cleans and presses.  So 10 tgus each side, 30 cleans and 15 presses each side.  20kg is light on the presses, but the 28 is too heavy for the left, my holiday present to myself will be a 24kg.


Looking up at the oak branches on the TGUS , with squirrels and crows cruising about at dusk was just great, great,great.  Fifty is just fine.





 

Yoga Jerk

"Who's the more foolish, the fool, or the fool who follows him?"
Obi Wan Kenobi


I love many things.
I love big band swing.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--ybdh8RFUE
I love banjos, mandolins, smooth dobro, John Duffy's tenor, and three part harmony.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigjZ7ng_tc 
I love muscular women, dancing strong and fast on pointe.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXQSCa8gwx
I love my dog.

But I do not love him.

There are six billion people in the world, we need to get along.
If we can't love each other, we at least need to tolerate one another.
We need to be patient and understanding.
We need to honor social contracts, to be aware of, and adhere to, basic societal norms.
We need to follow the Golden Rule.

Still, he drives me crazy.

He came in late, as he often does.
He dropped his mat next to my head.
He rolled it out too close.
He ran it right up to that of the lovely young woman in front of him.
He dropped heavily to his knees and groaned loudly, announcing his arrival.

He is large, hairy, middle-aged, and though reasonably fit, he should not be wearing tiny shorts and nothing else.

Our teacher, MH, is a beautiful man.
His practice is strong and elegant.
His voice is smooth and calming; he uses it sparingly.
He encourages humility, to practice within one's ability and without ego.
He reminds us that child's pose is restorative and an invitation is not required.
We come to his class to learn, to practice, and with at least the hope, if not the expectation, of improvement.

MH is wasted on my scantily clad neighbor.

My neighbor lunges forward, slamming his foot between his hands, ignoring MH's gentle directives.
He refuses to take the less difficult variation, he is constantly off balance, sweating profusely and falling out repeatedly.
He ogles, he caves, he curls his spine when he should be offering his heart (what a wonderful phrase).
Yet he refuses all aid, no blocks, straps or blankets for him and MH has given up.

Standing bent over with hands on knees sucking wind is not a pose.

He brings out the worst in me, I am descending to his level.
I cannot help but get competitive, I want to grind him into his mat.
My half moon has never been better, strong through the heel and all four directions, he falls out, nearly lands on his ass.
MH takes us to Vasisthasana on the right side, MH invites us to go to tree, and to lift the left leg.  I do and hold it.  He tries, and falls loudly.  Oops, says MH, no shame in falling out.  We have become co-conspirators.

I love MH.

Time for pidgeon and I fear what is coming.
MH is going to keep us here for awhile, and that is good.
But my neighbor starts moaning, loudly.
He is hunched over, shoulders around his ears, sharing his reverie with the class.  There is this invisible bubble around him and I am in it.

He is a nuclear blast to my inner calm, this class is shot for me.

His incantations continue in shoulder stand.
We go to plow, and come back down, MH coaching, slowly, one vertebrae at a time.
He slams down and heaves loudly.
Time for Savasana, I do not stand a chance, I am tense, waiting for his loud sighs of contentment.
Salvation; he is stomping around me, rolling up his mat, running out, too busy for completion.
The whole room lightens in anticipation.  A final loud thwock by my right ear; his wet towel.  Fine, I got it buddy, just go.

We go through closing.  We bow, hands in prayer, and give thanks to whoever or whatever it is that we hold higher than ourselves.  Namaste.

I open my eyes and look at MH, he looks at me, winks and grins knowingly.
The lovely woman in front gives me a rueful smile while rolling up her mat.
I pick up his towel, and leave.  The group has extended a helping hand, forgiven my competitve impulse.
I will continue to work on tolerance, understanding, and forgiveness, and just plain letting go.

But if he gets near me again he is dust.

Nuclear Pheromones

"Emancipate yourself from mental slavery."
Bob Marley, Redemption Song

I got this Starbucks CD, free with a 15.00 purchase.  Four tracks, covers, except for Dave Matthews singing this really stupid song called You and Me Together.  Playing it in the car coming up from Grandma's tonight wanted to rip it it out and throw it out the window, except the last track is a cover of Redemption Song.  Not even a Starbucks special can fuck up Bob Marley.

I don't like large group fitness classes.  At all.  Only time I ever got the group vibe was in May 1981 running the Clam Beach run from Trinidad down along Clam Beach north of Arcata.  In a pack of  few hundred people we dove downhill into a small fern covered canyon where there was a house with a beat up deck with massive speakers on it blasting Lively Up Yourself and sending it resonating all over the canyon.  You could feel the bass coming up the soles of your shoes and the whole pack simultaneously let out a loud cheer and the energy level skyrocketed and powered by caffeine, THC and Marley we stepped it up big time.

That I get.  I don't get fifty people packed into a shoe box sweating together which is what they were doing in Equinox last night at 6 when I walked in.  The place was packed, but I needed to kill four hours before picking up Ian on Fillmore.  Could not get near the kbells for the first circuit, not that anyone was using them.  So, dumbells and barbells, that went like this:
Cardio
pushups to renegade rows, 35lb, 5+5+5+5
30 walking lunges, body weight
80 lb barbell, squat to press, 10x
30lb single leg deads 6+6. barbell made this very interesting
3x
 second circuit only space is in the center of the gym because they have all these stupid machines in there, so I am a show dog, which I also hate.

16kg windmills, 8+8
32kg swings, 30 seconds, which was 20 per
TGUS 16kg 2+2, 24 kg 2+2
Figure 8 to hold, 24kg, 15.
3x
Third circuit on the swings remembered S. Cheatam's military spouse article and her head position in the photos on the swing.  Her head and neck are completely in line and she is looking down while hiking back.  Modeled that in the mirror a few times (very scary) and then gave it a go, 32 popped up like a cork, I can work with this.  The 16kg feels like nothing.  Some what I think were Janda sit ups and rolling around in the yoga room, steam and stumble out at nearly 9.

On Fillmore looking for raw fish.  No go.  Resist the urge to step into Harry's for a scotch.  Settle for crab cakes and a serviceable Malbec.  Call Ian.  Dir en Grey is done.  Tell him to start walking up Fillmore, I spy him from two blocks away, in a pack of teenage boys, they all look the same except his neon blonde head.  He piles in, had a ball, tales from the periphery of the mosh pit.  He is happy which means his voice goes up an octave and he sounds eight again.  I try to keep him talking.  He explains that he has been jamming with his buddies and they have formed a band, Nuclear Pheromones.  I want to press for the origin, but have to bite my tongue to keep from giggling.

Sleep in and work from home this am.  Catch the 11:10 ferry and head in, aiming for MH's noon class before I have to put on a suit and go spend time with Judge Feng.  Boat is slow and I miss MH noon by five minutes.  Six miles on elliptical.  Up to Feng, where we deal with what we need to; he calls me David on the record, repeatedly.  Been doing this for 20+ years, no judge has ever referred to me by my first name on the record.  Resist the urge to ask if I can call him Sam.  Walk out, opposing counsel tells me he is worried because Feng clearly likes me.  I tell him I could easily lose this case, Feng does like me because I can try a case without being a prick, but that will have no impact on the outcome.  He feels better.  Glad I could help him.

The emails are slowing and get back to gym in time for MH's stiff guy class, where we spend an hour doing hip openers.  By the time we get to double pidgeon I feel young again.  Grandma feeds us, north where the dog is joyful.

Critters

"Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spent the rest of the day putting the pieces together."
Ray Bradbury
The Ian critter auditioned yesterday for the part of  Chevalier Danceny in Porchlight Theater's summer production of Les liaisons dangereuses.  He did a monologue from Bradbury's Pillar of Fire.  When he was done, the director sat back and said:  "Holy shit." So Ian is pretty happy.  In contrast to his audition on Thursday for Puck in MSA's one act of Midsummer Night's Dream, which he apparently tanked on, and was really grouchy.  He is a roller coaster; so much like me at 16 it is unnerving.
Coyote in the marsh yesterday morning.  Rose wanted to be friends but kept her distance.

Friday, am meeting, then four miles on the elliptical and a really good yoga class with MH.
Saturday, marsh walk with Rose.  Then into SF for kettlebell turned reformer session with Brigid and Cecilia T.  Brigid is really really tight and locked up in her lumbar spine, worse than I knew.  Cecilia was very good with her and if I can get Brigid back in we will.  Citizen Cake (best fucking lemon bar I ever ate) then the Haight.  Back to grandma's where Barry was stashed, ate pizza and watched Cal beat Stanford.  Yay !
Long hike with Rose and Ian on Burdell today, good for all of us, even with Ian's Norwegian Death Metal soundtrack; fortunately batteries died on the speaker.   Ok bird day, two huge Ravens, Redtails, Coopers Hawk, bunch of woodpeckers.  Burdell is a treasure.
In City late tomorrow evening to collect Ian, so late session at Equinox, hope holiday will thin the crowd down and I can put the pieces together for a little while.

Be Good

"Be-bop wasn't developed in any deliberate way."
Thelonius Monk

Four albums I listened to when I was 12:  Bridge Over Troubled Water, Bookends, Sly & The Family Stone's Greatest Hits, and Monks Dream.  They just put up Monk's performance from Newport in 1959 on Wolfgangs Vault.  Charles Rouse on Tenor, fat fat sound, just wonderful.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxX0-Oa

Whiney last post.  Want to edit it out, but need the reminder.
Wednesday, three hours to Soledad.  Dreading meeting Donald, looked in the mirror in the head before going in, thought I looked like shit, bleary eyed, scruffy, and harried.
Walked in, half hour late.  Donald chained to the table, lit up when I came in, only creature that happy to see me these days is my dog.  "David man, you look great, what are you doing to yourself, man I am blown away."  Later it came out he'd been in solitary for three weeks which explains alot.  Still, it was a delightful three hour visit, not the least of the reasons was getting authority to settle his case, put money in his pocket and move on.  "I am going to do what you tell me man, cause I trust you and I know you ain't gonna sell me out."  He is rolled out the door, waiving over his shoulder calling softly:  "Be good David."  This is why I did this.

Feeling good, in the visitor lot on the way out.  Red tail lands on the light standard.  Camera is in the car and I start shooting.  Minute later, three cars come screaming up, guy yelling "put down the camera."  Three burly guards around, armed to the teeth.  "What the fuck are you doing here ?"  "Uhm, taking pictures of the hawk that was up there."  Check the ID, hassle me for five minutes, look at the pictures, ok, you can go.  A little touchy there . . .
Coming through SF at 5, stop for 5:15 yoga.  Great class, lots of warrior three variations, very strong.
Today, get in at 7:20.  Ten minutes with Monk on the treadmill.  Phone starts ringing, planned five miles turns into one.
Back in the evening, went like this:
15 Hindu push-ups
10 goblet squats, 24kg
BUP 5+5 16/12kg x2
8+8 single leg deads, 16kg
3x
16kg high swing, pull snatch 5+5
32 kg swings, 20
TGUS 2+2 16kg, 2+2 24k
60 sec plank
3x
Wine tasting at Equinox.  Look at it going out, last thing I want.  Long road north to kids and home.