I am leaving today for Nepal, OMG. I won't be blogging while I am gone, no cell phone, no pager, no computer, just old fashioned pen and paper. I am taking a camera and a weensy ipod shuffle. I swear, that thing is too small to make music, it flummoxes me.

My naturopath gave me a reprieve. I don't have to take vitamins while I am gone, no handful to choke down every morning. I am taking ambien, doxycycline, cipro, peptobismal, cold meds, and airborn, cripes. I have never traveled with so much reinforcement before. And stuff to purify water and bug repellent and sunscreen. Wussy American, I swear.

And for the final fashion statement, I'm wearing my pass port and airline ticket in a pocket on a string around my neck, nice. Pretty soon, I will be tying stuffed animals to my bags and wearing tin foil on my head. I might just fit in in India. I can be a mad ascetic.

I'll be back November 15th, a new woman. Don't forget to vote for Obama, as if there were any other choice.

Throw your old suit on the fire


when I squint you float on ashes
the burn marks are gone
we used fade cream
as usual a miracle
my darling
I sag in your presence
my ligaments have lost their burnish
you swirl your marvelous hair
a gathering of hoopla
after the pruning
kites were found in the tire treads
we sighed in unison
(you must move out)
before I am forced to put iron filings
in your mutton sauce
walk with me to the gravel pit
look
algae shaped like the face of Jesus

Oysters

Before we go any further, we must speak about oysters. Consider The Joy of Cooking on the subject. "Now back to the actual opening of the shells....Until you develop a knack, shucking is not easy. Should you grow slightly desperate, you may be willing to sacrifice some flavor for convenience. If so, place the oysters in a 400 degree oven for 5 to 7 minutes...." This is blasphemy. But I know slightly desperate. Once you have jammed the oyster up against the side of the fridge and you're whacking it with a screw driver and a hammer, well, then it's time to get out Lewis Carroll's "The Walrus and the Carpenter" and read to calm yourself down.

I'd like to say I'm a vegetarian except for oysters. Oysters and crab. And horseradish. And melted butter.

Four days til I leave and go to the other side of the world. Tomorrow night is another writer's workshop. I have no poems. I don't write poems anymore. I hate poems. They suck.

the cats lie about in sleek dressing gowns

we are already doomed

I spent the last 2 days making grape jelly from my grapes and they didn't effing jel. This is a tragedy of epic proportions. It involves decanting all the jelly and starting over, more sugar, more pectin and more burned fingers, gobs of jelly on the stove/floor/walls and sugar all over everything. Why do I do this every year? Because homemade jelly is delicious and the unsweetened juice is delicious and this beautiful dark red color. And the grapes are free and they grow over the hot tub. I pick a smidge amount of grapes and the raccoons eat the rest. I can't get up there to get the ones on the top. They are all tangled up in the vines.

I also have two winter squash on the counter. One is a giganto acorn and the other is my favorite, a buttercup. She is a beauty and she weighs a ton. I might have to eat her before I leave on my trip.

The apples always look crappy, covered with scab and usually wormy. I eat them anyway. My neighbors have a pear tree and I must say, pear sauce is sublime. Tastes like butter. Butter, I tell you.

Count 'em, 8 days until I leave. Then I won't be doing any blogging for a month. I'm gonna disconnect from everything, email, cell phone, the works. And the election will be over. If it doesn't go the right way, I won't be back. I could be a midwife in India. Or Nepal.

I saw the latest Coen Brother's movie tonight, Burn Before Reading. I love those guys. I've loved them ever since Blood Simple, which I saw at the film festival. In this movie, George Clooney has the crazy eyes. And Tilda Swinton is at her brittle best. But John Malkovich, slightly cross-eyed and yelling f-you every other word, manic genius.

I got my hair ironed again today. My hair feels like feathers, like I am going to start flapping.

Rebecca Loudon's new book, Cadaver Dogs, is beautiful and brilliant. Go buy it, many copies. And when she reads. go hear her and thank her. That's an order.

Sequence #9

fit your hip here polish the skin o morsel o gardenia you make me sweat a banyan tree grew in the bathtub we slake our forefingers indigo contains mercury I would never poison our palace with erythema at least until you rub against my traveling shin I have a rash because I have an affinity for your incisors please continue to bite without your toothmark on my jugular I remain anorexic unable to swallow unable to flit

I am listening to the Goldberg Variations performed by Glenn Gould. He rearranges my molecules.

Ten days to Nepal/India.

Hockey Moms Against Sarah Palin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URIypadX3n0&NR=1

I am here in the Oregon high desert on the Warm Springs rez at KahNeeTah, a resort built around a hot springs so the outdoor pool is a toasty 98 degrees. Pure heaven for a swimmer like me. Plus great gobs of beauty, red bluffs and sagebrush and large sky areas. What, you may ask, during this economic catastrophe, am I doing in such a place, behaving like the sky isn't falling?Well, I'm a guest and I'm here with my honey so it was practically free and yes, we watched the debate because it was patriotic to watch the debate. Sarah is, excuse me, an idiot. I know that isn't very Buddhist of me but hell, we are going down, fast and she is just a distraction in squarish glasses and a frightening hairdo. 

But on the train to Portland there was a lady across the aisle who was wearing a pink plush bear with a blue visor around her neck. And the lady was wearing a matching blue visor. When she sat down, she held the bear under her chin so the bear could see out the window. When she got up to go to the bathroom, she gave the bear to her husband to hold. He kinda clutched the bear a bit severely, I thought. Then she came back and put the bear on her lap so the bear could go to sleep. Then they opened their Subway sandwiches and delicately ate ham and cheese, not dripping a bit on their laps. The bear watched from her shoulder. He wasn't hungry, apparently. When I took a call from my service, she listened in and commented that she had been late with both of her children. This woman has kids, yikes. Maybe they also wear blue visors and wear pink velour suits. I can hardly wait to take the train back to Seattle. I think train passengers have stories to tell. About bears and visors and the view from the window. *sigh*

Things to pack for India:

1. fleecy hat for Nepal

2. washable undies

3. sunscreen

4. mosquito repellant

5. toothbrush

6. water treatment tablets (taste yucky)

7. hand wipey things

8. travelers checks

9. passport

10. meditation bench (comes apart)

11. money belt

The money belt is going to make my waist look, uh, weird. Like lumpy. I have to trade in the travelers checks for rupees. At least rupees don't have pictures of the queen on them like Canada. Or maybe they do. My friend I am traveling with plans to buy a skirt when she gets there. I'm afraid to venture out. I fear I will be fleeced. And don't drink the water. Ever. You will be sorry. 

When I come home, the new regime will be in place. Gawd.