ergonomics and the ethic of flow

i've had a long couple of weeks. i took it easy tonight. came home armed with frozen pizza and a bottle of wine. yet another wine i latched onto BEFORE the critics bit into it. french. la bastide, 9.99. top 100 of 2005!

but i've had a little much too soon, it seems. i never usedta be this much of a lush. i usedta be able to outdrink the boys. now i drink like a girl. quel lame.

a lovely wine though.

i have to tell you, my derriere hurts a-sumthin fierce. i marched down to the highrise in my hood this morning and hiked the 15-floor building and headed home. i figured it'd be challenging, but i got home with spaghetti legs, man! i can cycle 35-kilometres, and that kicked my damn ass!

'course, i've been lethargic for a while. gotta say, though: loved it. LOVED it. very cool. beats the shit out of the gym. had this bliss-in-transit mode of thought yesterday where i decided i would take a metaphorical look at the stairclimbing as it being part of my daily struggle towards success.

i know how to emotionally blackmail myself, okay? work with me here.

i've been avoiding people. a few demons to conquer or something. i gotta tell ya, 2007 is starting to look mighty fine to me. 2006 has sucked ass, you know. (a few bright bits, but largely ass-ish.) but for everythign that's gone down this year, i know who i was, i know who i am, and i know what's what. it's all good, and i'm glad of where i stand on, um, well, a few points.

every now and then, i just step back and remind myself: one of seventy-five years. not so bad. numbers one through seven, good. eight, passable. nine, not so good. ten, ass...

but, fuck, man. with this age thing comes a reality check: going with the flow takes so much less energy.

way back in the day, '92 methinks, i was thrilled to sign up for the Tragically Hip's first-ever Another Roadside Attraction tour, featuring Husker Du, Hothouse Flowers, World Party, and Midnight Oil, out in the middle of goddamned nowhere, on a native reservation in the middle of god's own mountains, Seabird Island.

Midnight Oil blew a gasket when the moshing started to breach a fever pitch. the lead dude, Baldy, started ranting that they would cut short their performance if the unrulyness wouldn't cease.

well, then. grudgingly, it settled down.

then the Tragically Hip happened, and so too did the unruly moshing. the sunset was coming on now. i was hanging with a truckload of strangers and we were all well into a mix of vodka and watermelon. the moshing, it seemed, was getting wild.

gord downey, one of the most charismatic canadian performers ever, started drawling, "whoa, whoa, whoa! yer doin' it wrong. yer doin' it wrong..."

the crowd sorta went from a dull roar to a curious murmur, because it seemed that the King of the Monologue was poised to go off.

"no, no. you're wasting all your energy. you gotta... i don't know, just vibe it. just..." and his whole body pulsed with the still-rocking slow-but-good bass-line beat in the background of his throaty, raspy voice.

"see, you keep doing that thing you do, and you're gonna go home hurtin'. hurtin' something bad, and you're gonna call into work, "dude, i died last night, i'll see you next shift," and me, i'm just doing this thing i do, and mellowin' in action here, and i'm gonna feel good, feel happy, go home all blissed out, shag my wife, and get into work just fine tomorrow."

a smattering of laughter emits from the crowd.

"you see the reasoning, now, don't you? settle down. be well tomorrow. be happy tonight. let's get back to the show. mellow, now, yeah?"

next thing you know, 20,000 strangers standing in the middle of a sacred plot of native land in the middle of a summer night in the middle of an island, well, we all got into a vibe like none we'd ever known.

i tell ya, i've never had a better three-hour drive in my life than the one i took home that night, the gig still playing in my ears.

BOY, DID I EVER DIGRESS.

my point is, going with the flow: not just energy smart, but smart!

my life right now ain't what i want it to be. point established. let's now find a vibe, shall we? a nice easy repetitive pace where things are a challenge for me but they're not insufferable. all this fluctuation can really ruffle a girl's feather.

ah, well, a girl can hope. in the meantime, i think i wanna listen to "Cordelia." (about both shakespeare and margaret atwood's cat's eye. now there's a great rock song.)

or then again, i could have a glass of wine. oh, and in the spirit of christmas, i bought one of the "anti-christmas" christmas movies i most love, die hard. hans and john mcclane have just met. ooooooh.