nostatic at all...

Here's a cool site. A nice take on support group combined with social software. Not sure about the presentation yet, but the core idea is neat.

16th floor: anxiety, avoidance, your dna and mom. Watch your step when you exit.

Well then. That was illuminating. So it turns out that while the herring wasn't red, it perhaps was pink. And the real deal is being terrified of cheating on mom. Not in an Oedipal sense (at least I hope not, because then that would involve necrophilia), but in a more insidious and sweeping sense. So that's what's been driving much of this. And crafty me, holding the rip cord in my sweaty, shaking hands. I pulled it, and the chute deployed. But a funny thing happened on the way down. I'm still floating but a strong breeze seems to have taken me back to where I've never been before. So maybe it starts anew. Deja vu all over again. Interesting. More will be revealed...

Funny that I was on a 4th floor apartment...

I went back to the doctor
To get another shrink.
I have to tell him about my weekend,
But he never betrays what he thinks.

Can you see the real me doctor?

One of these nights. Not a peaceful easy feeling. I wish I was already gone. But I don't want to end up as a desperado.

Enough Eagles song references for ya?

This time, the "outside the box" guy was at the table, but the "staid and conservative" guy was nowhere to be seen. You'd think that was a good thing, but if he's not at the table, he can't do the work. And in fact the "outside the box" guy really needs to step up in the emotional department.

Oh, and I'm not cheating on mom or dad or anyone else...not sure what's up with the curtains.

Of the rest of your life. Make it right with Total.

If only a breakfast cereal had that kind of impact.

For some reason 6:30am seems to be wake up time. That blows. I can't fall back to sleep until about 7:45am...but then the alarm goes off. Tomorrow no alarm. Hopefully either 6:30 won't poke me in the side, or if it does 7:45 will cooperate and I can get back to the serious task of dreaming. Thank god for computer games...

A strange boy is weaving
A course of grace and havoc
On a yellow skateboard
Thru midday sidewalk traffic
Just when I think he's foolish and childish
And I want him to be manly
I catch my fool and my child
Needing love and understanding

Almost two weeks. And right now sitting and feeling nervous. Excited. Anticipating. Trying not to attach. But about to try a new way. Just gotta breathe. How will it go? Exactly how it should go. I'm tired of calculating and predicting and sorting. Time to just be and quit fighting. Easier said than done, but baby steps.

The boy and I are off to Big Bear tomorrow to fish for the week. He's never been, and has been bugging me to go. I don't think he understand the, shall we say, *lack* of excitement that fishing brings to the table (especially relative to computer games), but that's fine. Life is in the experience. Staying at some motel I booked online, so we'll see how that goes too. We went to Big 5 and bought fishing poles and some tackle. But we need bobbers. Can't fish with worms without bobbers ya know...

More on this as it develops.

The week came and went. Time flies way too fast. Now I'm back to paying for my fix. *sigh*

This week will be spent at Big Bear Lake, as the boy has been bugging me to go fishing. He's never been been before, and I've tried to warn him about the excitement level. But that's ok...nothing like finding out first hand.

AM that is. And here I thought you had gone and left me in a lurch. But no, you come back and visit from time to time. Well, one time to be specific, although you have 59 degrees of freedom. Is it clinical? Like everything else, time will tell. At least no trip to the child-proof cap.

But beware the outlyer...

Funny, but through the thick and the thin we keep coming back for more. Maybe against logic, but logic can only take you so far. It is somewhat like a chess match, where one moves and the other then ponders. Or perhaps tennis. It is a love sport after all. In the end, it is neither, it just is, and we try to honor the process. Labels be damned. CW be damned. Just put one foot in front of the other. And walk.

wet and dry

Well, as safe as you can be with a water cannon on board...

like son

Come on...how can an electric canoe not be fun?!?

Skunked no more. Sure they're small, but catching a fish is catching a fish. And yes, followed immediately by release.

Well, all good things must come to an end, and so we bid farewell to Big Bear. The boy caught his first fish, we had some good times, and now it's back to LA. Damn...

Well, vacation over, but today finally back on two wheels. Man, did I miss it. Between new valve guides (warranty repair, but the bike in the shop for 2 weeks) and vacation, it's been far too long. Luckily I didn't forget, and neither did she (the bike, silly).

Based on a book (and some discussion and prodding), I've got a plan. Not fully hatched, but at least moving forward. Something about a life purpose. More will be revealed, but part of it requires that I play music. I already knew that, but enough sitting around. So I placed a craigslist ad yesterday, and early this am got an email about doing a coffeehouse gig with a female singer/songwriter/guitarist. So I did. Turned out well I think...the drummer, who had rehearsed once with her was solid, and I just sight read some crude charts. Luckily, I don't suck. Evidently there was a recording made of the gig. Once I get it I'll post it. But this should only be the beginning. We'll see where it takes me...

Lazy day today. Well, the morning wasn't really lazy, but that's besides the point. Eventually I headed out on the bike. First stop was for sopes in Pasadena, then the Angeles Crest Highway. On the Duc of course. Speed limits were obeyed...I was just up for a nice cruis. Ended up at the top of Mt. Wilson. Haven't been there for many, many years. Back in the day I would ride my bicycle up to here, then back down. Maybe I need to start doing that again. We'll see. But could they put any more antennas up here?

Grace's fraternal twin sister, Mercy visits me from time to time. Sometimes Peter has to hit me over the head to acknolwdge it. And sometimes Mercy isn't sweet and supportive, but instead sad and rips and tears. Not because she means to cause pain, quite the contrary. But the cold hard reality is that to be able to greet Mercy, the scars have to be pierced. And that hurts. I remember being on my knees, looking for Mercy. She was there, looking over my shoulder. But unable to speak. I turned, seeing double from the tears and the fear. Mercy and Grace a fleeting vision as they looked at each other and walked. Unable to help except in my dreams. Until I could wear my inside out.

I press the string and a note sings. It's sweet, then it fades, only to be replaced by another as the key shifts. They move into the void in a vain attempt to fill it. The lesson that has to be learned again and again. There's tenderness in the void. The empty space between the notes. Trying to fill it chases the love and joy away. Let it sit. Damp the string and pause. Sit out a beat. Then ease in gently. There is a time to slap. And a time to let it bloom. And a time to sit out. Not quitting. There is a reason they call them rests. Another bar will come around. It always does. Until it doesn't. Then you're done. Try not to think about it, Alice. Say hello to Grace and Mercy.

Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? I guess we'll find out. Because if I don't at least ask the question, then I'll never know. And there are some things that you need to know. Or at least ask. Live the question...

More music on the horizon. Perhaps some blue eyed soul. A NY cat come west. I can do that. I can do anything. The question becomes can I *feel* it? Well, I'm feeling a lot lately. Some good. Some not so good. If I can keep from reading any more of Joni's lyrics I'll be ok. But it's kind of the textual version of Derek playing the dots off his Dominos. And I felt that. Many, many time.

So maybe I can Was, or not Was. I don't really know until I try. This is no time to be shy. That dog won't hunt anymore. Never did really. Sometimes your friends have hesitation in their voice, but what's behind that? If I've learned anything, it's that you can't take things at face value. And this is not time to get lost. Unless it is in the music. Focus. Integrate. And play as if my life depended on it. Because it does.

I have no idea why I said that. It just felt right. Now it just feels silly.

http://www.snakesonablog.com

God bless the interweb...

OK, this is some funny stuff...

S took me to see Earth, Wind and Fire at Irvine tonight. I'd never seen them before, but I love their music, having played along with tracks like September and Getaway more times than I can count. The band did not dissapoint. Philip Bailey can still hit the ultra high notes, the horn section is slamming, and Verdine White never stops moving. Never. After about 4 or 5 numbers (with a hit or two), the rest of the night was pretty much non-stop songs and medleys that anyone who is between 30-50 years old knows. Great stuff. Lots of positive vibe, the crowd was dancing and appreciative, and it fired me up even further to play more music.

Well I supppose it was only a matter of time. We were very lucky, but timing is everything and I didn't have it.

Well, day two post accident, and things are slowly getting better. I'm peeing blue though...I'm assuming that is from the methylene blue dye. Yesterday afternoon was miserable as the vicodin was not doing the job. You know how you get those throbbing pains? Well, imagine the "up" part of the throb with no "down" part. And the foot and knee alternated for supremecy.

Well, hopefully I'll find out my knee's fate tomorrow. I've got a call into my colleague who is head of plastic surgery at USC. If I don't hear back I'll call my regular doc in the am and see what he says. A little tough to face the unknown...not sure if I'll need a skin graft, or just stitches, or ? Time will tell. The waiting sucks though...

Coyote - Trickster

Different tribes assign different meanings to each animal, but the association of the Trickster to that of the coyote is by far the most predominant popularized today. Studying the traits, habitats, and surroundings of any animal can give one an insight into its spiritual significance. Coyote is said to trick the learner into the lesson, almost giving one the notion that things are not as they seem, until the lesson is done and the wisdom gained.

My colleague Randy came by tonight to look at my wounds. As head of plastic surgery at USC, he is probably qualified enough to give his opinion. Good news: just keep it clean, change the dressing every day (damp dressing), and try to stay off the knee, avoiding flexing it. Whew. No skin off my arse (literally). I still have some paranoia about a staph infection (or just general wound infection), but ever vigilant. Sharon went to the local medical supply store so now I have a bunch of zeroform dressing, peroxide, gauze, and all the other accessories.

So its into the shower tomorrow morning, then a fresh dressing. Repeat every day. I'll be out of vicodin soon though....oh well, the pain is subsiding a bit. Work from home this week, then likely rent a car with an automatic transmission so I can drive (no way to work a clutch right now). We'll see how long it takes to heal, but it's all good. Considering any of the alternatives, I'm way ahead of the game. And thanks to all my friends and colleagues who have offered to help out. And of course to Sharon for hanging on when it went down, and being a trooper of epic proportions.

Per Randy's instructions, this morning was a shower followed by some hydrogen peroxide followed by a fresh dressing (thanks to Sharon for making the late night run to the medical supply store for the xeroform). If you dare, you can view the pics of the wounds. If you don't like wounds, don't click.

You've been warned...

Motorcyclists have an acronym: AGATT

All Gear All The Time

This is why. Here are pics of my jacket (the shredded one), Sharon's jacket (the leather one). Unfortunately I don't have pics of my pants (mostly cut off by the EMTs) or boots (also cut off by the EMTs). The bottom line is that a helmet isn't enough. I used to cringe when I saw people riding with a helmet, tank top and flip flops. Now I get sick to my stomach.

I wish Alfie was here to ask. But the reality is that no one can really answer that question except for me. Sure, I need to talk about it. Especially with Sharon, as we shared the experience. And we likely can help each other sort out at least some of the feelings. But everything speaks differently to the individual because we are...indivdual. A compilation of our life experiences.

It's been suggested that Friday night's events had a certain Hollywood flair to them ("ooh, explosions!"). Since Sharon is a writer (and evidently I'm an aspiring plot-thinker-upper), perhaps this is the real story:

I have a lot of digital friends. No, they are not synthetic, but rather I know them from various online communities. A few of them are docs, and have chimed in on my recent injuries. The latest was the comment that, "if you can see the bone, assume it's infected."

Well, you could see bone, so...

One of my problems is I tend to spin out on stuff, with health issues being a speciality. So far I've been pretty good, but at the moment I'm a bit on edge. I really don't want sepsis or staph in my knee or foot. I'm doing everything that I'm supposed to. I saw a plastic surgeon to get guidance on how to care for the wound. Am very careful, and am on antibiotics. Tomorrow I see my regular doc to have him check it out and I also need refills for drugs (only have a couple of days of antibiotics left and I'm out of vicodin. So we'll see what the doc says tomorrow (other than, "what in the world were you doing on a motorcycle?!?"). But right now I'm just tired and a bit terrified. And that's no way to go through life. Then again I've done it for quite a few years, so I should be used to it. But I'm tired of being tired. So I'm working on not being. Tired that is.

I like my doc. I've been seeing him for about 8 years now. He's up in Pasadena and not on the "90%" list with my PPO (meaning I have to pay more), but I still make the trek to see him. Went in today to have him check on my leg wounds and hopefully get more meds, as the scripts from the ER had run out (they only gave me 20 vicodin and a week's worth of antibiotics). I called my doc's office yesterday seeing if he'd just call in a refill but he wanted to see me (like a good doc should). He didn't have any appointments but when he found out what happened he said, "pick a time and come in tomorow." He didn't even look at the wounds, instead calling a plastic surgeon colleague 2 doors down and having me hobble down there. And he's finding a plastics guy on the westside for weekly followups. He also wrote me a prescription for more antibiotics and a *bunch* of vicodin. With a refill. I like my doc.

Most of the time when you get prescriptions, you get the little semi-clear orangeish bottle with the drug information stuck on it. Not this kid. I get the factory bottle direct from Watson Labs with 100 tablets (sealed for my protection) of 7.5/750 hydrocodone bitartrate and acetominophen. It was kind of a blast from the past to read the pdr insert. See the chemical structure, ponder counterindications and overdose amounts. The knee decided it wanted to throb and burn a lot today (and tonight), so it's good I've got the refill. Just have to count what I take and walk the line between not enough and too much. Actually the acetominophen is the bigger concern from a physical standpoint, with 10g or so being a not-so-good-for-you amount in a day. But the hydrocodone can sneak up on you psychologically. I know that gig all too well, although it was many moons ago. Luckily I have a good memory. At least for some things...

While some of my docs gave me meds and bandages, the other one gave me a bit of a kick in the pants. At least it wasn't in the knee. An admonition to not do things just to spite mom. I guess my reaction to the phone call and the dope in the dream were the big clues. And perhaps the whole motorcycle thing. So how to avoid it? I have to think about it. Why do I even bother to ask? I need to work on my rhetorical questions I suppose...

When you're stuck on the couch for long periods of time, channel surfing becomes second nature. Oddly enough, I still end up on only a handful of channels, one of which is SpeedTV. I already watched my Tivo'd qualifying from Turkey, so now its some yahoo testing Lexus hybrids at Infineon Raceway up in Sonoma. Hey, I know that track...I ran there last year. Road trip with Calvin, staying with Pelican friend Don and family. Great trip.

Well, it's Saturday a little before 11am. I was *supposed* to be up at Laguna Seca, turning hot laps in the SC. This evening is also the silent auction and wine tasting (it is also a charity event). And I could have also instructed as they needed people. Well, I guess that will teach me. I ran Laguna for the first time last year and it was amazing. The minute I left the track last year I began looking forward to this year's event. And especially with a better prepped car and another year experience under my foot. But life had other plans. As a friend quoted, nothing makes God laugh harder than people making plans.

I'll also miss instructing at the Driver's Clinic, running and instructing at the STS event, and doing my first time trial at Buttonwillow. Hard lesson to swallow. I suppose I should just be happy that I was incredibly lucky, that Sharon wasn't hurt too bad (so I don't have crushing guilt), and focus on avoiding infection in my wounds. Fine. I'll do that. But you'll have to forgive me if I occasionally swallow a little hard when I think about laps I'm not turning. But there will be another day. And another track. At least that's the plan. Hmmm...

that I love my doc...

Every man has a place, in his heart theres a space,
And the world cant erase his fantasies
Take a ride in the sky, on our ship fantasy
All your dreams will come true, right away

And we will live together, until the twelfth of never
Our voices will ring forever, as one

"I can't wait until I'm old enough to feel ways about stuff."
- Philip J. Frye

I can't wait until I can feel something in parts of my foot. Seems that perhaps along with some skin I might have left some nerves back on the 405. On the upside, my foot wound doesn't really hurt at all. On the downside, I can't feel anything near the wound, and much of my big toe is similarly missing some feeling. Maybe it's just being a "guy"...

Note to self: after getting out of the shower and soaking nasty open wounds, then spraying them with sterile saline, then applying topical antibacterial, then adding xeroform and guage, don't wrap the knee to tightly with the stretch bandage. Because if you do, you'll scream in agony for a half hour or so until you loosen it.

I'm car shopping. Online. Craigslist, Autotrader, Recycler, etc. Looking for a "beater" auto trans car so I can drive for the next month or three while my leg heals. Depressing. I don't have a lot of cash lying around, so I'm looking int he $2-3K range. Considering a BMW because at least it will be mildly entertaining to drive (rear wheel drive is a good thing) and my shop works on BMWs. Otherwise it is Honda/Toyota/etc. But man, most of these cars are so tired and beat. Poster children for deferred maintenance. And now everybody and their brother is a "dealer", as it seems that most cars get sold to Sammy Shyster so he can mark it up and lie about the history of the car. No thanks. I'll keep hunting for a car from an actual person that has the service history. And maybe a personal history. Cars have karma too...and I could use some.

Of course there also is the lease swapping route...hmm...

Having a bum leg creates a variety of challenges. Maneuvering in the shower is entertaining. And of course I can't drive any of my cars so I'm looking for a slushbox to drive in the meantime. But everyone's gotta eat, and preferably a couple times a day. Sharon has been a total champ, insisting that I stay on the couch while she fetches grub (her with only one arm). But alas, she has to work sometimes, so today I was on my own. No problem...I'm Dr. Self Sufficient. Turns out you can grab the right crutch in your armpit and swing it around, then support yourself on it so you can use your right hand. Left hand has to stay on the crutch as any weight on the left leg is instant scream time. You have to move slow, but it can be done. And you'd be surprised what you can put in your pockets to carry out to the coffee table. Yogurt good. But after getting a couple of meals myself today, I can say that my leg hurts more than any previous day except maybe the first day home from the hospital. Oh well, guess there's a lesson in there too...

Saw the ortho guy today. He wasn't much good on the whole wound thing...thought they should have cut most of the skin away and put in a skin graft. Suggested I see a plastic surgeon. I told him my friend Randy came by. Turns out that's who he would have had me see. Nice to be able to name drop the right medical professionals ;-)

His main concern was that my leg was bent. He told me to straighten it out, as it is easier to regain range of movement starting from straight. I learned that you need 110degrees of motion to get up from the toilet. Fascinating. So I'm now trying to straighten my leg out (ouch) and eventually will put on an immobilizer (ouch) to keep it straight while it heals. Then once the wound is closed up I get to do physical therapy to break down adhesions (ouch) and get full range of motion back (ouch ouch). Gonna be fun...but it seems like I'll be able to drive a stick again. Good for my track car. Now gotta figure out what I want for a daily driver...