Sooncomemanyhappypicturemagicwishshow!

With Choo-Choo Charley and his right arm tan!

The folks with Pentax say they'll get my camera back to me before the impending end of the world. Before then we'll get pictures of identical clouds in valleys as well as my new idea for an outdoor heating hat. We'll be the life of the cold outdoor party! Or maybe not, as the patent application may not have been submitted. But you can imagine it in your own special mind.

We'll be matching the synchronous with the a- as you do. And becoming enlightened as we realize how little is understood. We'll be smiling more frequently. We may even be out from the in communicado instilled from the tranquility found in lawn bowling with any luck.

Much love!

Lingering questions answered:

-I'm just a vector

306 and counting...

The "Rock" station down here has been conducting a countdown of the top 1000 'rock' songs of all time. Number 306 was Van Halen's JUMP. One might ask how a song could possibly be better than that song. I disavow the friendship of anyone that would ask that question.

Or one might assume that all songs then following would be better than this song. I, however, being more cynical than the rest, know that I will now be force-fed the likes of Blaze of Glory, or worse, Simply Irresistible.

Now there is no telling where the money went, I understand, but I'm the colt in your stable; I'm what Cain was to Abel, and unless I hear some FYC soon, heads may roll.

"Come on Feel the Noise..."

Update: Number 255 was Shine on You Crazy Diamond. How dare they! To say that there are 254 better is inflammatory.

Update and Finale: A correction is in order. The list was not of the best of all time, but of the best in New Zealand. And whereas before I would have directed criticism towards some corporate entity deciding the outcome, this was voted on by and is the complete responsibility of Kiwis at large. My disappointment now permeates this whole country; it has let me down.

Not yet, but soon, maybe?

Off to ship away the camera.

Oldies, almost goodies.

1 Step Forward, 2 Steps Back

We come together:

An incomplete (and growing) list, In the Southern Hemisphere

- Light switches are 'switched' down to turn on.
- Hot on the right, Cold on the left.
- North is South. East is West.
- Brakes on Bicycles are Reversed. Like ATVs.
- Lefty Tighty, Righty Loosy.
- Man in the Moon is on his head.
- People STOP for you in pedestrian crosswalks.
- Orange is Blue.
- The Coriolis Effect. It's true.
- Look right, then left, then right again.
- Bon Jovi is still respected as a musician.


BTW, I walked around in neoprene shorts for a while, jumped in the lake with fins, goggles, snorkel, and found my keys. The watch still works. Unlike my camera. Pentax is going to mail me an 'International Warranty' card which has the same conditions as the original warranty. But in the Southern Hemisphere...

SuperMonday

That's right. Starting at Noon-Thirty-ish. On a Monday. By the way, one is supposed to 'Shoot' on 'Three.' None of this 1,2,3,shoot.

It was the day I lost my keys - house and bike lock.
Why on Earth would I run into a fish or an eel? Apparently if you're bit by an eel and would like to reclaim that which the eel bit, you are supposed to keep pushing down the throat due to the projection of their teeth. But I'm way ahead in the story.

I went running, as I am wont to do, reaching little Thailand, a cliff dropping into Lake Wakatipu, ~17 min. after leaving the house. Some locals were hanging out at the highest jump (probably around 45 ft.) and they agreed to drop my shoes off in Sunshine Bay (used to be called Sandfly Bay). So I decided to swim the slightly less than 1/2 mile back to my shoes. Jumped in the lake, and decided that next time I won't wear a shirt. About half-way was the fish or eel and my watch came off along with my keys.

Ran back home (another 20 min or so) then to the football game. I write football, b/c everyone should know that the only real football is football as God-fearing Americans know it. None of that sissy European what have you. I was looking forward to not having to ask someone to explain the game to me, but then I had to return the favor. And none of the commercials. Never again SuperMonday. Super is for Sundays, not Mondays.

More Poetry

This poem is direct from the brain of a one Olivia Kalb, age 11.

The excited sky

An excited sky has marshmallow clouds.
An excited sky has shimmering stars.
An excited sky has an evil looking sun.
An excited sky has a glowing moon.
But an upset sky cries with wet rain.

One, Two, Shoot!

Or is it One, Two, Three then Shoot? I can't answer these questions.

So the camera has made up its mind not to be waterproof anymore. It did not let me know before we went swimming last, and now the camera seems to be quite upset with me. As in incommunicado. Nothing. I threw rock, it threw paper.

So the lovely people at Pentax can expect some lovely writing from me about warranties and the strong desire of the Masses to have more photos or poetry which needs to be satisfied.

Otherwise, meditate on negative space. How the song is beautiful for the notes that aren't in it. How the canyon is beautiful for where the rock isn't. You know, the aggregates. Have at it.

Hope it's good out there.

Camembert with Language

In rugby, a 'try' is a goal. You can argue about a 'touchdown' hyping football into the age of space travel - a game for the future - but you either get a 'goal' or not. 'Try' seems to imply you didn't necessarily accomplish anything.

Cricket makes about as much sense as rugby. Many numbers and names that are foreign and English. Why do they hate freedom so much?

And 'about' what are you going 'round'?

Trips with work may be slowing down. The peak season is past, and where is this summer, really? Only at 45 degrees South latitude. C-town is at ~42N, I think. And January would seem something like July. But maybe if we look at the winds and the ocean currents... Yeah, that makes a little more sense. Time off now and again is good for the soul anyway.

Pictures next time...

Bother

Rain. And on the full moon. Makes me tired for days to come staying awake awaiting nothing but rain instead of the full moon in the canyon. Noone would go with me either, so it was a solo drive up the lake with plenty of rain looking like Star Wars and reminiscent of Yoda in the last sentence. Who needs 'em anyway. I had devised my own clever schemes for pictures with plenty of glow sticks and the like. So I'll go get more pictures from the canyons for your enjoyment...

The Up and Coming

So next we'll have ourselves some full moon canyon pictures, all going well tomorrow night. At least pictures of glowsticks on helmets. The water levels have been changing dramatically and it should be perfect for tomorrow. The question still remains as to who will be joining me.

Off to complete a beautiful day that begs to ask why I'm sitting in an internet cafe. I can't answer these questions.

Errata

So, assumptions were made. As were mistakes.

January 7th would have been the correct date to state in the previous post. January 7th. One would think that a dutiful son would remember at least the end since the beginning was sometime (when was that?) in August. I can remember phone numbers from childhood friends which I haven't spoken with in at least the same amount of time, but can't remember the date of possibly one of the most interesting turning points -One that allowed me to make some of the most important connections with other people, one that possibly changed the direction of the current - in my life. I'll forgive myself, so onward to other mistakes:

Contrary to foresight, the foreigners were back playing Eminem louder than ever last night. They were not deported. They were not held overnight to be sodomized. Maybe they collected $200. Maybe they think playing the noise louder would be punishment for my ratting them out. Maybe I'll soon be sleeping with the fishes. Maybe its curtains for me, curtains for me I say. Or Maybe they're simply inconsiderate individuals. Regardless, their viewpoints or assumptions remain reflections of their own realities. Have at it. But turn your noise down.

Are you mentally divergent too, friend?

Day off from canyoning today. So I went canyoning. No pictures, as that would only incite envy, a deadly sin.

On Nothing

Quickly: Here is a view from the other entrance to my house. Exciting, huh?!? The Brazilians living upstairs were apparently (I slept, Eric was questioned by the po-po) escorted from their flat (one even in handcuffs) for selling that evilest of drugs, marijuana. That comma before marijuana shows that its superiority in evilness should be tacit to all. So now we are faced with lingering moral questions:

This event should end the constant boom-boom bass above my peaceful home and Eminem may finally get his deserved reprieve from having his horrible music be blasted incessantly for people to become upset to their stomachs from and to generally pity an individual that is responsible for making such noise. Eminem could likely be placed on the same level as the man that invented not just CFCs for aerosol cans, but Tetraethyl lead for an anti-knock agent in cars. Get it?

But this is at the expense of having people go to jail. At least they are not Americans, but rather a lesser people. I'm kidding. I've been reading Vonnegut. I'm not kidding.

Seriously:

I intended to take some time today to explain the synchronicity of what has been occurring in the nine year cycle that concludes today, January 9th. However, now that it has arrived, I find that I'm not prepared to discuss this openly with all of those unknowingly swimming together in the ether. I'm also finding not enough time to talk about my alternative topic. So read the post again from the beginning and enjoy it this time.

Binary Thought

A post of more time and consideration will show up in 2 or 3 days. Think of Laura's birthday dilemma.

Rather today:

Back at work for the most part. My precious fluid has returned but not in as uncomfortable of quantities. I'm keeping it this time. I'm going to be selfish. I try not to think what the doctor did (or is doing) with my fluids. Oint-Ment.

I believe in a grayscale for most aspects of life. I am not the computer from the GI Joe spoofs. Not zeros and ones, no on and off switches. But then maybe some things are binary. Either you've forgiven someone for something or you haven't; Either you've made a decision or you haven't. It seems that on a personal level, choice is binary. I suppose this would eventually lead to a discussion on freedom and projecting one's views on others. I believe that I'll avoid this...

Until two (or three) days from now, peace.

So this is the New Year

-Insert rest of lyrics here-

Out with the Old, In with the New


Got in the water yesterday to have a feel around about going back to work. There's a splendid gash on my wetsuit (guess where). The challenge at this point seems more psychological than anything else. There exists a hesitancy to use the leg, as well as an expectation of pain when there actually is none. I feel like Goose just died. Gotta throw away the tags...

Otherwise it's also time to get back on the other horses that have bucked me off at some point. You know, picking yourself up, brushing off the knees, forgiving the self and others, etc.

My Precious Fluids!

They've taken them from me! Vital fluids! At the doctor's!

As the swelling receded, in the gap between where the hematoma had etched its purple shininess to my leg, it became evident that I was carrying some liquid with me in my leg (Think water bed). So the doctor took it away from me yesterday. All of the more than one hundred milliliters! He didn't even ask if I wanted to keep it.

To my and certainly your disappointment, I forgot to take my camera to capture this unique magical event. In its place, I present to you a poem written by a one Eleanor Rawson, a Queenstown area local, entitled Animal Lover. The topic of the poem is how she, Eleanor Rawson that is (of course), is, in fact, an animal lover. And why? To the poem:

Animal Lover

I love animals, I love them so much
Some animals are small
Some are big and playful,
But the thing I love the most is that
They are not the same.
A mouse is small and a rhino is big.
A warthog is plain but a giraffe has got patterns.
A fish is fearless and a crocodile is scary.
You see they are not all the same.

Christmas in Kea

An attempt at being less enigmatic and more straight-forward for a change:



In most cultures there exists some celebration in which an individual is recognized as becoming an adult. Various manifestations include graduations, confirmations, etc. Symbolically all of these events are indicative of an individual maturing in the physical, mental and spritual realms - becoming, to a greater or lesser extent, autonomous. My sojourn around Christmas became a personal variation of this idea, though I was unaware of this outcome from the outset.

News of another week off work because of the leg was upsetting, my mind's ramblings were convoluted and I decided I could probably get away with some "light" hiking for a few days. So I went to Kea Basin. A kea is a bird that looks like this: (click). The basin is on the South-East side of Mt. Earnslaw, one of the more prominent mountains seen from Glenorchy. Not too far, but out of the way of nearly everyone.

I was given an unwarranted car to borrow with low idle/fuel injection problems, but cruised like a go-cart on the unpaved "roads." I got hiking around 8:45 PM. Simple hiking tasks seemed impossible: -Couldn't find the trail -walked waist deep through glacial creeks for an hour or so -couldn't get a lighter to work -white fuel burning on my pant legs... Settling in, I suppose, to mindfulness of the present and nothing else.

Woke up on the stream bed surrounded by sandflies (think no-see-ums). Found the trail, lost it and found it just in time for me not needing that trail anymore. Across the meadow, under an electric fence for sheep and cows, through bogs and up into the beech forest.

A couple hours and x-meter elevation gain, Kea Basin opened up. Never have I seen a more peaceful, magical, sacred area in my life. Two canyons pouring from the glaciers, which met up in the basin to become the final canyon down to the valley. A perfect day and noone around.

I played all day around the river and meditated through it all. I slept up on a bluff high outside of the basin, where it seemed like I could reach out and touch the glacier, which constantly made growling noises. Or was it thunder?

I was awoken by a large gust of wind. Time to finally test out the personal bivy. I had used it to fight off sandflies, what about high winds and storm while fully exposed?

Rain all the next day (Christmas). I made my way to an actual rock bivouac - an overhanging rock where underneath had been built up shelters and fire places. I spent most of the day there in mediation and writing, with one trip to get more pure glacier water. Clear stars that night.

Weather cleared on the hike out, and I visited a couple of shacks before making it back to the car. One final swim in the bluish water and it was time to tackle the road - a new challenge in light of the recent storm.

Back to Queenstown. The mind has been quieted for the first time in recent memory. The main purpose of the Hobbit (there-and-back-again) journey showing itself to be to a development of a stated current personal life philosophy/spirituality (always subject to revisions and additions) that strives to be as congruent as possible to doing positive/constructive works.

Full undadulterated photos from the journey are available here: (click)