BoldUlysses.com

I am SO glad that the peak of my journaling activity coincided with my flight training at Sugar Valley. I reread the entries and vividly remember every sensation, every little victory and setback, takeoff and landing. That was worthy of being recorded, such as it was.

P and I watched 86 together a few weeks ago. She loved it, and I had forgotten what a great show it is. There were definitely details that came out in the rewatch, and increased my appreciation for the animators’ and screenwriters’ craft. I told her that she’s welcome to borrow my account info if she wanted to rewatch any meaningful scenes, but she’s declined so far, a posture I don’t really understand. My desire to rewatch is THE key measure of how much I’ve enjoyed a particular show, and there are scenes in 86 that I’ve worn out, I’ve seen them so many times. Actually—that’s not strictly true; they still maintain their emotional impact for the most part, but it’s definitely a sign that the show has hooked me to the point where I’m invested in the characters and what happens to them.

How can a day be gray and clear at the same time? Many of those lately. I’ll be 45 soon. The years are rhythmically clicking by. And yet, rereading my journal, there’s a clear line of connection between then and now. I’m still very much the same person. That continuity offers a grain of reassurance as life circumstances change and swirl around me.

Rereading more journal entries… I’ve decided summer 2004 was the Season of Peak Possibility, the axis around which my life turns, before and after. I had a stable job at UNC. I had just returned from an exhilarating trip to France. I still had the Supra. No romantic attachments. My writing had matured to the point where it better conveyed what I was thinking and feeling. I hadn’t committed to PBC yet. I was beginning to study systematic theology with Aaron, and was dipping my toe into what would eventually become a treasured friend group. Yep; pretty sure it was never as good as it was then, at least from the array of options laid out before me.

Do I miss it? Absolutely. But in thinking about my situation now relative to then, I can’t decide whether I’m more resentful over the loss of possibilities in general that accompanies a decision, or of the outworking of the decision I did make. The grass IS always greener, but I still can’t help but wonder how those parallel-universe versions of me are making out.

i’ve been behaving myself for too long

In the process of rereading my whole journal, from the very beginning, such as it is. It’s funny; something possessed me to look up Everything but the Girl yesterday, and I discovered they had released their first album of new material in 24 years this past spring. I guess there’s hope for me yet if creators can take that long of a hiatus between updates and pick up where they left off.

Still, Tracey’s voice sounded very different. They’re in their 60s now, which is wild to think about. A lot of life happens in 24 years, and I could hear it in her voice. Just as nuanced as it had always been, but with a tinge of age to it. Not as clean and pure. Different. Just different.

Reading back on my journal entries, as much as I’d like to think it’s autobiographical to the degree that anyone could read and piece together some kind of coherent narrative of those years of my life, I know that’s untrue. My mind works overtime as I read my own words, remembering people, places, situations, feelings and filling in all the (substantial) gaps. I wonder what impression it would all leave on someone coming in cold? I suppose it would be similar to the type of impression I left on my journal followers at the time, at least the ones who didn’t know me in person, but just through my written words on the screen.

It’s an understatement to say I miss those times, but I read about my antics and think about all the time I wasted, and still waste every day. I read my work-related comments and remember that I didn’t even have a work ethic to speak of until ImageWorks in Winston-Salem in early 2007. So much (all?) of what I complained about was my own fault, but I just treated others’ crises and frustrations as normal, or par for the course, or something. I was (and am) so immature. I wonder when, or if, it gets better?

Oh, and with only a few noteworthy exceptions, my poetry really sucked.

There’s a sense of quiet desperation that pervades the last evening but one before we return to the US.

We’ve been in Vence for the past three and a half weeks. It was originally scheduled to be just two, but then members of our party successively came down with COVID and we had to extend our stay. Fortunately, my parents had rented the second house for another week, and the owners let us stay another half week beyond that.

It’s been a story of achingly beautiful scenes interspersed with moments of hands-up overload. But now everyone is well, and I feel the old familiar, visceral need to throw my arms around the stone walls, the immaculately-trimmed hedgerows, the sea and sky in one view and the history of this place. My favorite times have been nightly walks with Luke, watching the light fade behind the four old baous in a row, sentinels that will watch over this place long after I’m gone.

I want to bottle the breeze I felt on a warm day in Coursegoules. I parked the car and Diane and I leaned against the concrete wall, looking out over the valley and spying the little windsock on the bleak ridge behind. We watched the cloud shadows play over the little green fields and villas, shielded from the coast by the first wave of the pre-Alps.

It’s subtly different than last time, but there are broad similarities. There are things I’m genuinely looking forward to returning to, like our house, animals, projects and the general ease of everything. Last time, I had very little of that. But there’s still a generous feeling of displacement that’s building, even now.

More than anything, the whole process, as it repeats, reinforces a feeling of mortality. These times end. They slip through my fingers over and over again and I don’t know how to get HERE from THERE. That’s the paradox: Back when I was more flexible, I didn’t have the work ethic to apply myself and figure things out, and now that I do, my flexibility is severely constrained. As soon as I say that, though, I’m reminded that when I set my mind to it, even then, I could make things happen, so perhaps it was something else.

Regardless, that time is gone, this one is soon to be, and my time will be up as well, sooner than I think. What will I make of it? What will WE make of it? God and His Word are the only things I’m sure of, and I need that fact to be more than cold comfort as the core ache of another departure looms.

I keep thinking that if we hadn’t moved, maybe he’d still be alive. Midwestern is just as busy as Brook Hill, but it was slightly farther away, outside his normal territory (even though I’d see him venture that far before).

Our beloved Benjen was hit and killed by a car today. A good samaritan found him in the road, moved him to the side, got his collar and found us. I took his little body to the vet where they confirmed what we already suspected.

He was my favorite cat ever. Here’s a list of some of the things I will miss about him:

• He loved tummy rubs. When he was in the mood, he would roll over in my lap and look up at me expectantly. I rubbed his belly and he would nestle his head in the crook of my arm. If I stopped, he would reach up toward me with his paw for me to resume the rubbing. I thought it was a kitten thing and he would grow out of it, but he never did.
• He would always ask politely to be let outside, usually with just a glance or a meow or a little nibble to my legs if I didn’t respond quickly enough.
• He LOVED to be outside. Whenever I’d meet him outdoors, he’d flop down anywhere and everywhere for a tummy rub.
• He had the sweetest disposition. He got along with all our other cats, and they all had issues with each other. But not Benjen. He was so easygoing and unflappable.
• I loved the “mask” around his eyes and his coloration. The dark tabby areas and the rest of him white.
• He slept on top of me almost every night. I laid down and pulled the blanket over me and 9 times out of 10 he was there before I’d even had a chance to settle in.
• He would let me pick him up and hold him with both his front paws on my right shoulder. He didn’t like being picked up generally, but he let me do it and purred more often than not.

I just want this day to end. I don’t want to think anymore that less than 12 hours ago I petted him after he had a quick snack downstairs. And that he was the first creature I said “Good morning” to when I got up. We’re devastated.

Boy I loved Shirobako. I don’t know that I’ve watched another show, anime or not, that’s done such a great job of not only giving every character of a very large ensemble a fleshed-out feel and unique personality, but has also made every character sympathetic in some way, even the ones I initially disliked or misunderstood.

As mentioned on my Twitter feed, it’s a must-watch for anyone who works in a creative field, as I do. The daily struggles, especially the challenge of having to be creative on demand despite the lack of inspiration, are very real.

It’s put together with a lot of care and is obviously a kind of love letter to the anime industry, with a lot of inside jokes and nods to things only those directly involved in anime production would know about. The animation is consistently strong throughout and the music is perfect. If I had one nit to pick, it’d be a wish for more differentiation between the main characters’ designs. The primary way to distinguish between the 5 of them is their hair color and style, and I kind of hoped they’d be more distinctive beyond that appearance-wise. At least the template, such as it is, is appealing. Highly recommended show. Episode 23 stands as one of my all-time favorites.

Once upon a time there was a smokestack and its name was Harvey. Harvey lived with his three brothers—Steve, Gary and Victini—on the deck of the ocean liner SS McSmarpy, the greatest ocean liner ever built. It was 5 miles long and powered by 13 nuclear reactors.

Its passengers could play tennis on any one of 45 different courts, watch only ’80s movies at any of the 9 movie theaters and dine on the finest hoagies and cheese fries. The day of the SS McSmarpy’s maiden voyage had come, and she set sail amid cheers, music and confetti…

She sailed on into the night on the first leg of her voyage from London to New York, her passengers regaling themselves and doing cartwheels across the deck, four smokestacks chugging away. The night was clear and cold with a wide moon shining on the north Atlantic…

The bridge crew were vigilant as an iceberg warning had just been posted for that area, and as they looked out over the calm ocean, they saw hundreds of icebergs dotting the water. Suddenly, one loomed up over the bow, and there was no way for the SS McSmarpy to avoid it…

It shuddered into the hull……and glanced harmlessly off the side. The ship was 5 miles long, after all, and wasn’t troubled by a puny little iceberg. This of course made the iceberg master, Mr IciclePants, very angry, and he sent another, larger icerberg at the SS McSmarpy.

This one, too, just nicked the side of the ship without doing any real damage. Mr IciclePants was hopping mad and sent ever larger icebergs at the SS McSmarpy, hoping to sink it, to no avail. Finally he decided he had had enough, picked up his IciclePhone and called in a favor

He talked for a minute and hung up. A wry smile spread across his face as a chunk broke off the Moon, rocketed down to Earth and crashed into the ocean just ahead of the ship, which had no time to take evasive maneuvers…

Once upon a time there was a single can of tomato sauce and its name was Guido. His greatest ambition in life was to become the drummer in a rock band. He practiced day and night, inspired by great rock drummers like John Bonham, Neal Peart, Keith Moon and Carter Beauford.

Guido got so good that he memorized the drum parts for every song ever recorded. He sent demo tapes to 351 bands, who were in awe of his proficiency but didn’t want him in their band when they discovered he was a can of tomato sauce.

He considered this horribly “cannist,” but kept on sending out demo tapes until one day when a punk band called Slime Patrol heard his demo and decided that a tomato can drummer was “so punk” and exactly what they wanted. He jammed with them and it went perfectly.

They wrote a few songs and played some shows, but Guido was dismayed by Slime Patrol lifestyle, smashing up hotel rooms, getting drunk and writing graffiti at all hours of the night. He wanted to fit in, and he discovered that his sauce looked like blood…

…so his graffiti scrawl was the best of all of them. Slime Patrol recorded an album and it shot to the top of the charts, and Guido was the most famous drummer in the world. But his mother, Ms Esmerla saw his interviews and read his articles and learned about his lifestyle.

So she decided she would march down to his hotel room, sit him down and give him a good talking-to. When she was done, Guido knew he was wrong, and all the fame and success wasn’t worth compromising his principles. He went back to the band to tell them his decision…

Once upon a time there was a little cloud with a problem and his name was Stevie. Stevie’s issue was that he rained up instead of down. He was no friend to farmers or anything that needed rain on the Earth, but…

…all the satellites in orbit loved him. They would go out of their way to orbit through Stevie’s rain to wash off all the dirt and grime from their jobs around the planet. So that worked out OK for him, until one day when Stevie realized his water reserves were getting low.

He called Windmaster Dan on his cloud cell phone and requested a wind push to be over the ocean so he could evaporate some and grow larger. Windmaster Dan sent a strong wind right away that pushed Stevie over the Pacific Ocean, but…

…he ended up stalling over the Sahara Desert. This was the worst place for a cloud to be, and Stevie got smaller until there was only a single drop of him left. He panicked and called the Cloud Emergency Hotline, and they sent a Weather Ambulance out to him right away.

The Weather Ambulance sprayed a fine mist and increased Stevie back to normal size in no time, and they blew him out over the Atlantic Ocean to boot. All was right in Stevie’s world until 31 days later when he got a bill for $12 million from Cloud Emergency Services.

Stevie of course couldn’t pay this, and he cried and cried, and of course when a cloud cries they shrink… Fortunately, one of the orbiting satellites spotted Stevie crying. It huddled together with all its orbit-mates and decided to do something to help out…

Once upon a time there was a graham cracker castle and its name was Grahamtopia. It was ruled by King Rubinfa and it was the weakest castle in the world because all the attackers had to do was to eat their way through the walls.

Fortunately King Rubinfa was rich and was able to pay off all his would-be attackers so they would leave him in peace. Unfortunately a new civilization, the Gazurtoids, arose and they were so savage (they literally steamrolled their conquests) they took over the world.

But the Gazurtoids had a weakness. If they ate or even touched graham cracker, they would immediately burst into flames. After conquering and enslaving the rest of the world, they arrived at the walls of Grahamtopia. The Gazurtoid leader looked up at the walls, and shouted “Graztle na, poot va noot grootskie nozzle!” which was Gazurt and means in English “Come down now or we will steamroll your castle!” King Rubinfa at the top of the wall replied “I will never surrender my tasty abode!”

The leader of the Gazurtoids didn’t understand but took this as an insult, and sent wave after wave of his best attackers at the walls. As soon as the Gazurtoid soldiers touched the graham cracker walls, though, they burst into flames and left little piles of ash.

Finally the Gazurtoid leader understood what was happening. He told his army to stop attacking, and immediately sent for Hungry Dave, the man with the biggest appetite in the world. He was a member of one of the conquered peoples and lived in a forced labor camp.

Hungry Dave came, and although he was wasted away from his years of labor making toothpicks for the Gazurtoids, his appetite was still hearty. The Gazurtoid leader looked him up and down and said “Za-poosty wozpa groomph yo-lootzle kla!” which means “Go eat that castle now!”

King Rubinfa saw Hungry Dave approach, surrounded by Gazurtoid warriors, and knew that his time had come. He had one last trick up his sleeve, though, to defeat this Gazurtoid scheme…

Once upon a time there was a mountain-climbing potato and his name was Jackson. He grew up on a farm in Idaho and had soon climbed all the mountains around his farm. He stood on a peak, surveying the wild country around and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

He journeyed to Alaska to climb Denali and scaled the peak, getting frostbite along the way and losing a leg (fortunately potatoes can regrow limbs). Looking out over the vast Alaskan wilderness and the moose and tundra, he said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

So he traveled to Tanzania to climb Mt Kilimanjaro. He reached the top and looked over the savannah and the lions and tigers and hyenas and hippos and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

He decided to scale Aconcagua in South America, so he journeyed there and scaled the peak and surveyed the Atacama desert and the Pacific Ocean and the pampas in Argentina and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

So he traveled to K2 on the China-Pakistan border. He climbed to the summit and looked out at the mosques in Pakistan and the Khyber Pass and the Gobi Desert in China and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

Jackson finally decided to try Mount Everest, and although he got another round of frostbite, he made it to the top. He looked out over the Dalai Lama’s palace in Tibet and the beautiful temples in Kathmandu in Nepal and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

So he acquired a potato space suit and went to the Moon and found the higher spot, which doesn’t have an official name. He looked out over what Buzz Aldrin called “magnificent desolation” and saw the Earth rise over the horizon and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!”

So Jackson traveled to Mars and scaled Olympus Mons, the tallest volcano in the Solar System. He looked out at all the space probes and the rusty rocks and pink sky and said “I want to climb a higher mountain!” So he went to…

Once upon a time there was a tiny, adorable, cute little can of cranberry sauce and its name was Cran-Tinkle. All the ladies and girls in the city of Gronzinsky were obsessed with Cran-Tinkle and wanted it for their Thanksgiving meal, even though it wouldn’t feed much.

So the first day of Thanksgiving shopping season arrived and a mob of ladies and girls rushed the grocery store with such force that they ripped the doors off their hinges and blew a hole twice the original size in the side of the grocery store.

Cran-Tinkle was located at the back of the store, so it would take the ladies a while to make it to the can. They fought with torches and pitchforks and swords and catapults and bo-staffs and were almost to the can when a tank appeared and rolled over them.

A woman popped out of the tank’s hatch and said “My name is Olga, and Cran-Tinkle is mine!” But just as she was about to grab the can, a bomb landed on her, cratering the middle of the store.

A fighter jet landed in the parking lot, and a woman opened the canopy and said “My name is Artanian, and Cran-Tinkle is mine!” But just as Artanian was about to grab the can, a battleship cruised over her.

The captain jumped off the deck and said “My name is Jennifer, and Cran-Tinkle is mine!” But just as Jennifer was about to grab the can…

Once upon a time there was a hyperactive sheet of paper and his name was Stewie. He was so hyper that he folded himself into something new every 5 seconds, from airplanes and cranes to helicopters and battleships. This stressed out his parents, so they sent him to Calm Academy.

Stewie attended Calm Academy for 6 years, and by the end was so mellow that he couldn’t even fold himself anymore. He went to work for a famous letter-writer named Dr Lancaster, who immediately penned a beautiful letter on Stewie and tried to put him in an envelope.

But Stewie couldn’t bend. This enraged Dr Lancaster and he pulled out his blowtorch to burn up Stewie. But as soon as the flames hit the paper, Stewie’s super-powers activated and he became burn-resistant. Dr Lancaster tried for 7 mins to torch Stewie but couldn’t do it.

Dr Lancaster realized that Stewie was a special piece of paper, erased his letter and wrote instead “THIS IS AN AWESOME PIECE OF PAPER.” Unfortunately, during Stewie’s time at Calm Academy, they had brainwashed him and “awesome” was the trigger word.

Stewie immediately became hyperactive again and began folding himself over and over. Dr Lancaster loved this and clapped his hands and giggled and jumped around the room on his pink pogo stick. They set off to have adventures together in parts unknown…

Once upon a time there was a rocket-powered squeegee and her name was Chartreuse. She was the best squeegee in the world and all the skyscraper owners hired her to clean their buildings, especially the owners of the Empire State Building, which she could clean in 20 mins flat.

Unfortunately the price of rocket fuel was going up, which made it hard for Chartreuse to stay in business. She would charge $200 for the Empire State Building, but had to pay $199 for rocket fuel, which left her only $1 to live on. So she decided to up her rates.

She went to Empire State Building owners and told them her rate was now $250. They made billions every year but were super cheapskates so they declined to retain Chartreuse’s services. The Empire State Building got dirtier and moldy and mossy and fuzzy and disgusting.

After 3.5 years and the building dirty beyond recognition, the owners caved and begged Chartreuse to come clean the skyscraper, even at the higher rate. The squeegee was savvy, though, and decided to charge $500 since it was so filthy. The owners balked, but agreed.

She flew up and down the Empire State Building using her rocket power and soon it was 99.9% clean, all except for the last strip, when…Chartreuse got stuck on the point of the top of the tower. The owners were impatient, threatening to withhold payment until she was done…

Once upon a time there was a galaxy and his name was Gary. Gary was a small galaxy (only 12 million stars) or so and had an inferiority complex compared to his galaxy friends, whose stars numbered in the billions. He had a chip on his shoulder, so he decided he’d show them.

He went to galaxy university and studied to be a galaxy house architect, graduating with honors. He soon became the most sought after galaxy house architect in the universe, but he had a secret: He always built a fatal flaw into each of his galaxy houses.

If the galaxy house owner rolled over a certain floorboard in a certain way, his gravity would turn off and his stars would be flung into the void. But no one tripped Gary’s galaxy house booby trap, until one day when the President of the Universe, Disco Trent came to Gary.

Disco Trent wanted a galaxy house, and Gary designed one worthy of him. Unfortunately Gary was so used to building-in his fatal flaw, that he accidentally built it into Disco Trent’s galaxy house also. The President rolled over the floorboard and immediately dissolved.

Gary was found out, and was so remorseful (after all, it wasn’t even his friends’ fault they were so much bigger than himself) that he set about removing the booby traps from all the galaxy houses he had designed.

And he returned to school to hopefully discover the secret of how to reactivate Disco Trent’s gravity, and so resurrect the President.

Once upon a time there was a watermelon-and-ketchup sandwich and its name was Watusi. It sat in the deli window for 5 years, 3 months and 14 days waiting for someone to buy it (in magical glass case so it wouldn’t go stale). It was very depressed b/c it knew it was disgusting.

One day a man named Mr Winklesteiner entered the deli. Was an odd man and a collector of odd things and that day he was wearing his usual boxer shorts and cowboy boots and nothing else. Saw Watusi and decided that it was what he had been looking for, so he purchased for $41.

Mr Winklesteiner took Watusi home and set it on his kitchen table and tried to decide whether or not he would eat it for 5 days. Finally he decided he would help Watusi fulfill its purpose of being eaten, so he took a bite.

Immediately rhapsodic music filled the air, a delicious scent of burnt motorcycle tires enveloped the house and mermaids popped out of the sinks and toilets singing arias at the top of their lungs. Mr Winklesteiner knew Watusi was a special sandwich indeed.

Once upon a time there was a techno-playing blanket and his name was DJ Quilt-O-Matic. He was the hottest DJ in Krupter City (where all the lights are purple by law) and all the kids wanted to hire him to spin at their slammin’ house parties.

Instead of charging a fee, he insisted that payment be made by adding squares to his quilt, so quilting became all the rage with the younger set of Krupter City. DJ Quilt-O-Matic grew bigger and bigger until the day when he played some banjo techno.

The party came to a screeching halt and you could hear a pin drop as all the kids stared at the DJ. The Music Police of Krupter City arrived on the scene and ordered him to remove squares as a fine for playing banjo techno, which was a sacred music form to the Krupters.

So DJ Quilt-O-Matic diminished in size and played smaller events like middle school dances and modest weddings until his cred was reestablished thru nostalgia ~15 years later.

Once upon a time there was a hexagonal pancake and his name was Smackers. Greatest dream was to become a wheel, but was far too floppy. Decided to try to firm up, so checked out books on working out and hit the pancake gym for 271 days.

Firmed up, Smackers went to Wheel Registration Office to obtain a Wheel License, but was told by nice lady that although he was firm, he was not round and so application was rejected. Went back to library for books on how to become rounded, and decided to visit scissor factory.

Scissor factory cut off point and he reapplied, but was told he was 12-sided and still not round, so no license. Was so upset that he sat on the curb outside and cried, and water miraculously rounded his edges. Rushed back inside for wheel license, but…

…was told although he was perfectly circular, he was floppy from the water, so application rejected 3rd time. Gave up and went back to library for books on syrup.

Once upon a time there was a painfully shy Tootsie Roll and his name was Peter. Peter was so shy that he was constantly jumping out of the candy jar at the store, which made the candy man mistakenly think he was suicidal, so he arranged to get Peter counseling.

Counselor was able to correctly diagnose Peter but LOVED Tootsie Rolls, so constant greedy looks made Peter even more uncomfortable and painfully shy. Continued to jump out of candy jar until one day landed in with maple nut goodies by accident.

Maple nut goodies were great conversationalists and liked ’80s German avant-garde techno music, and Peter found his crowd. There was a beautiful maple nut goodie whose name was Jennifer he still had to work up the courage to ask out, however…

Once upon a time there was a museum on wheels and its name was Zooki-Nork. Curator’s name was Bob and its prize exhibit was giant painting of Thanksgiving turkey that doubled as a time machine if you stepped thru. Zooki-Nork itself could time travel by being sucked into painting.

One day as Zooki-Nork trundled along Uzbekistan, Bob decided to time travel and pulled levers, pushed buttons, turned a knob and hummed Star Spangled Banner backwards. Zooki-Nork instantly sucked thru and arrived in year 2713, by which time Earth covered with giant metal shield.

Giant movies projected on inside of metal shield for people to watch but had to sit through 61 minutes of commercials just to get to film, so they started building rockets to fire at shield. Gov’ts of world realized what was happening and decided to cut holes in shield as compromise.

Earth looked like giant colander and oceans took the hint and decided to drain out the holes, but thought better of it and returned when they realized space was cold and not very fun. Bob, observing all this from mountaintop in Zooki-Nork, recovered fragment of shield to remember.