Macro Micro Plastics

This from Harper’s Findings June 2024:

“Microplastics were found in sixty-two of sixty-two human placentas from a biobank in Texas, in half the arterial plaques of Campanian carotid endarterectomy patients; in the gastrointestinal tracts of three bottlenose dolphins and a harbor porpoise in the Black Sea; in shrimp in South Africa’s Crocodile River; in two-thousand-year-old archaeological remains buried seven meters underground; and in the gonads of adult oysters in the Mangrove Coast of the estuarine Brazilian Amazon.”

Found their way seven meters underground. And we have no idea regarding the long-term effects of microplastics on humans. We just went with it many years ago and here we are. But are we seeing it already? I read a while ago that tests on mice showed them suffering from both physical and mental maladies, and got, well, dumber. You think?

Think Like This

I noticed I am suddenly offered a pink heart along with the red heart in the initial emoji showing for texts. I’ll bet they’re trying to make us better distinguish between love and LOVE! You know? Temper us; make us less over the top with either love or hate; make us get along better. They can do that, you know. And they do. It’s crazy.

Reason number 454 to get your ass off “X”. 

The mind is a curious thing

When I’m folding clothes, I try to make as few moves as possible to fold the most clothes and when I screw up, I get frustrated. You do that? If I turn a shirt from outside right to inside out thinking it was wrong when it was right, I add all those moves to turn the shirt back. It’s crushing. And self-inflicted. The mind is a curious thing. 

I Remember

I remember skitching cars in wintertime when I was a kid. We’d have a day with a deep, fresh, icy snow pack, and we’d crouch between two parked cars (near a stop sign) and when a car drove up and stopped (and there was not a car coming behind them), we’d crawl out, grab the bumper and slide along down the street. It was really stupid* and that we were. You’d think the first face full of 70s car exhaust would have dampened our spirits.** I lost an expensive ski glove that way, too, which might be kind of ironic. Or maybe not.

I wrote a drunk song called skitching in the snow many years ago. It’s bad but maybe funny.

*Don’t do it. Dangerous. And dumb, too.

**Or did it ginger up our spirits like only huffing gas can do?*

continuums/continuui?

Dichotomies. Black and white. One or the other. Except of course for the gray areas where everything we consider “black” or “white” actually resides. There’s no true black (completely and absolutely black) and no true white (completely and absolutely white), but a continuum of black to white and back again. But that’s confusing, right? So we’ll just talk black and white. 

Nope. Introvert/Extrovert, Asshole/Saint, Liberal/Conservative. Two “opposing” sides of anything are in fact the two ends of a continuum. They touch each other like the two sides of a coin. That’s why questions at the doctor have like eleven choices: agree, somewhat agree, just sort of agree, thinkin’ about agreeing, meh, I’m intrigued… 

Atheism/Religion. Even those who’d scream “There is a god!” or “There is no such thing as a god!” right into your face, spittle and all; within each of them, at the very least, there exists a seed that if watered properly through whatever experience or experiences will grow and lead them to think somehow otherwise. We all have the ability to learn, to change; and we can’t help but evolve. 

Enemy/Friend. From frenemies to mortal enemies; from ghosting someone to killing them. But even mortal enemies would come together if it were truly needed of them – like if two mortal enemies (I don’t know about you but I’m picturing medieval chainmail mortal enemies) had to jump into a lake to save an old woman in a sinking Oldsmobile. They’d do it! Although chainmail and ponds make for a dangerous combination.

Bad thoughts/Good thoughts. Maybe it’s like a bell curve continuum, so there’s a long, sort-of plateau in the middle, the middle ground, where our thoughts go from bad to good, but the closer you get to one or the other the faster you fall into it. Or maybe not.

Remember the continuum. No one is all good. No one is all bad. 

But, what about…

Growing up I could never understand why marijuana was illegal and alcohol was legal. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Marijuana kills no one, essentially; alcohol kills scores and scores. This I just read:

“The annual number of alcohol-related deaths from 2020 through 2021 exceeded 178,000, according to date from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. That is more deaths than from all overdoses combined.”

I would never argue to make alcohol illegal, but something to keep in mind. Dang.

Tenacious Pugnacious

Growing up there was a woman who lived alone in an old house a block over named Mrs. Guggisberg. I shoveled her walk in the winter. She looked exactly like a Mrs. Guggisberg. She was short and odd, to an eight-year-old neighbor kid. And kind of mean.

Once she asked me to look after her dogs for a few days and I did but I hated her dogs. When I went to the door for my dollar after shoveling, they’d be all up in the doorway, barking and yipping and spinning and loud as hell. And they were ugly. Pugs. Three of them.

Pugs are all smashed face and butthole, with whacked out eyes, fat, little football bodies and legs like tiny twigs. They snort and gag and wheeze – they can’t fucking breathe. (Thanks to human breeders.) And these were mean. When I was feeding them for her, they would attack me. I’d open the door and they’d already be there barking and I’d have to kick at them to get them to move back and work my way into the kitchen, put the dog food in the bowls, change the water, and head back out the door – all the while swinging my legs around to keep the hounds at bay. And the buttholes, put your fucking tails down, you weirdos!

And I had to do that for three days. And they never let up. They are tenacious little piglets. And probably just fucking with me.

Okay, people love dogs. I do, too. And you get into trouble when you badmouth a dog breed, which is why I’m now wondering if my rant about the misshapen, mistaken and poorly designed corgi, the Ikea dog (got the right top, but the wrong legs) might muster more backlash than the pugly pugs bit? I think so. People really love their corgis. And tenacious? You could throw a tennis ball for 24 hours and a corgi would bring it back every single time.

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There’s a lot of fighting going on. A lot of anger and hatred. A lot of putting down and hurting other groups of people. It’s weird. We’re tribal, most definitely. We have this ability to see a forest but not a tree and then hate on the forest, of course.

It’s weird but it’s not new. We hear more about it thanks to 24-hour access to the Internet. Which not only shows it but feeds it. That being said, I just relish watching people on Instagram videos go all dumbass hateful right into someone else’s camera and I’m right there to watch it. So there’s also a fascination, like with Trump. He absolutely fascinates. His baldfaced lies, incredible, and very vocal hatred, meanness and malice, obvious mental instability and then the fact that so many people like him, and because of these same traits. That’s fascinating! And especially if he were an evil character in a movie.

But he’s real. I wonder what will happen to his fans when he dies and that of course is not far off. He’s almost 80 now. The world shall weep as one. Just kidding.

We hate people for their hobbies. We hate people for their clothing. We hate people for their accent. We hate people for their skin tone. We hate people for their features. We hate people for their food. We hate people for their children. We hate people for their vehicles. We hate people for their difference. We hate people for the noise they make. We hate people for their worship. We hate people for their language. We hate people for their names. We hate people for their art. We hate people for their birthplace. We hate people for their current residence. We hate people for their beliefs. We hate people for their family. We hate people for their prayers. We hate people for their books. We hate people for their sexuality. We hate people for their gender. We hate people for their hatred.

Change

I read a review of a book by Brad Stulberg called “Master of Change: How to Excel When Everything is Changing – Including You.” It talked about the concept of allostasis, or the idea that “rather than being rigid, our healthy baseline is a moving target.” The idea of impermanence or that everything is always changing and we need to go with the flow – rather than try to push the river. The concept was developed by a neuroscientist and a biologist.

It’s a very old concept, actually, but the two doctors no doubt look much deeper. The only constant is change. We are different people from on second to the next, and on a cellular level, completely different human beings every seven years through cell regeneration. Plus, everything is essentially alive, and changing, through the energy that courses through it and holds it together. We don’t need to move mountains because they are already moving.

But we naturally fight change – it goes back to when everything could be dangerous and so we tended toward the status quo, hoping to be around those we know and what we know. Change, back then, was a tiger wandering into camp.

So, it’s really hard to accept change, for many of us. And the older we get, the more set in our ways we become, and so acceptance can be even more of a challenge. Similar to how the more time we spend alone, the more set in our ways we become. We are used to the same people (very few in this case) and our own stuff and we just don’t want the world to evolve or progress. We like it just how it is. But the reality is there’s ultimately nothing we can do about it. It’s going to change and we can either keep fighting it or work with it.

He goes on: “Adopting an allostatic outlook acknowledges that the goal of mature adulthood is not to avoid, fight or try to control change, but rather to skillfully engage with it. … you come to view change and disorder not as something that happens to you but as something that you are working with.”

I remember a friend who knew some Kung Fu introduced me to the concept of using your opponents aggression against them. So, if you attack me, rather than push back, I move with you in the direction you’re going, gain control, and Kung Fu your butt. That’s the same concept in a way – going with the flow.

Mr. Stulberg writes: “To be flexible is to consciously respond to altered circumstances or conditions, to adapt and bend easily without breaking, to evolve grow and even change your mind.” Ain’t that the truth?

Eddie Izzard

The first trans person I ever met was in about 1976 at Thomas Beach on Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis. This was all very new to me at 13. I was sitting on the curb waiting for my friend, Ben, to come back from wherever the hell he was. Up walked this very tall woman in a bikini but covered with a beach jacket of sorts. She sat down on a picnic table and looked out over the lake. Then she looked over at me, staring right back at her. She smiled.

Lovely day, she said.

It’s hot.

One day you’ll grow up into something hot, son.

I’m sure I blushed, but it was summer in 1976 and I spent every waking hour outside, sans sunscreen, but soaked in Coppertone oil, so I was already some dark shade of reddish brown that probably hid said blushing. Someone shouted and she stood up and waved. Enjoy the beach, she said and ran toward the person. I’d heard about “cross dressing” and some talk of people transitioning through surgery and hormones. I believe they had to go to The Netherlands or somewhere to get it done. But now I saw one and talked to one. That blew my mind.

Somewhat related, I was reading an article yesterday about Eddie Izzard and remembering when Ms. Izzard was in the news for coming out as transgender way back in the mid-eighties. She’s been busy, real busy over the last 40+ years as a comedian, stage and screen actor, pilot, very active in LGBTQ issues, and is now again running for Parliament in the UK. She’s also a crack athlete and has run hundreds of marathons (more than a hundred for charities). Here’s what really blew me away:

“It’s not just the sheer number of marathons that Izzard has run that’s impressive: it’s that she runs them one after another. In 2009, she ran 43 marathons in 51 days. In 2016, she ran 27 in 27 days. And in 2021, she ran 32 in 31 days.”

Got that? She ran 32 marathons in 31 days. Damn.

#eddieizzard