I have a new tattoo. There it is, up there, after the blood and excess inky gunk had been washed away, a few hours after its completion. Isn't it absolutely beautiful? I think so, anyway. This will likely be my last tattoo for a while - they are not cheap! - but as I've long wanted this particular image to adorn my body, Susan agreed it can serve as my combined birthday and Christmas gift from her for 2015.
My individual attitude to tattoos is that anything permanently displayed on my skin has to be something personal and meaningful, and following my first three tattoos such is also the case with this one. While the Joe Strummer lyric ("I wanna live, and I wanna dance awhile...") on my left arm and the exclamation "Today!" on my right arm are philosophies relating to my approach to life these days, I also have a Maple Leaf on my right leg. This simply represents my pride at being a Canadian citizen and living in a country I consider to be pretty awesome.
In respect of the latter ink I also wanted a statement concerning my love and respect for where I live locally. I love Vancouver Island and, unless fate intervenes, will never leave here. So, with this tattoo I wanted to illustrate that fact with a representation of my favourite local creatures - hummingbirds - whilst acknowledging First Nations art and culture, and that I live on traditional Coast Salish territory. It might seem to those born here as perhaps a naive, misguided or overly sentimental gesture, but it was important for me to make this statement. I mean it, or else would obviously not gone through with it...and because of the amount of shading involved this one stung quite a bit, so you could say I've suffered for my art!
The tattoo is an exact, life-sized replica of a lovely 2010 carving by a Penelakut (formerly Kuper) Island artist named Duke James, that we bought at a market on Thetis Island some years ago. I've always adored the carving, and have it displayed in my office so I can see it every single day. When wondering how best to portray my love for my adopted homeland on my skin, I this image was always the favourite. I love it, and am proud to have it on my skin in this way.
There are numerous creatures on Planet Earth that, to me at least, seem to have no purpose whatsoever other than to annoy the hell out of humankind, some to the point of insanity. Many people would include flies in this list of 'God's Irritants,' but at least in breaking down waste they serve a purpose. But, for example, what is the point of mosquitos? I hate the bastards. And then, just as detestable, there are wasps. Man, do I hate, hate, HATE wasps! Look at that little git up there. He's actually a very handsome wee beastie, a miracle of nature if you will, but his impressive looks and antennae mean fuck all to me. I. HATE. WASPS!
We have a lovely deck at home, and there is little better Susan and I love to do in the summertime than to take our breakfast or supper out there to enjoy a peaceful meal together in the sunshine. The local wasp population, however, seem to have different ideas. The moment we sit down with our food, out they come in vast squadrons, determined to make our lives as miserable as possible for the duration of our meal.
Even the way they fly, randomly and drunkenly dicking around and weaving about in the air, often around our legs, is so goddamned annoying. Consequently, we've been chased indoors off the deck several times, unable to concentrate on our food, as it gets cold while (note) I wildly swing a swatter about to destroy the little assholes. Susan is much more Zen about it than I could ever be, at least attempting to eat her dinner, while I turn the air blue, screaming at the stripy little monsters, chasing them all over the deck in a mad rage. The neighbours must be greatly amused. Little has given me more joy than hitting a homer with one, sending its instantly dead, tiny body hurtling over the deck railing when I connect sound and true with one in flight. Yes, for I AM HUMAN, and the wasps will bow down before me!
However, something in me has changed recently, and although I have ideas about it, I think I am at a loss to clearly explain it:
I have actually started feeling guilty for killing the fuckers. True!
This all started when we recently discovered a small nest on the underside of the roof of our shed. After leaving it be for a week or so, we simply couldn't stand the hassle at mealtime anymore, so one day last week at sundown, I zapped it with a can of Raid, destroying the nest and its occupants with one short blast. I watched the little creatures twitch and spasm as they lost the battle for life, finally stopping moving... and it made me feel awful. I took another look the following morning; there was no sign of life, just a dissolved nest and a few black and yellow corpses hanging from it.
I had destroyed a society in an instant, and it weighed heavy on me.
Our friend Victor - who, if it is even possible, hates wasps more than I do - recently gave us a beautiful glass jar honey trap to help with the wasp problem, which continued apace after the shed nest was levelled. It has caught quite a few wasps - flies, too - and I watched them as they went through the final throes of their short lives, helplessly trying to escape the sticky fluid they had unwittingly gone to investigate, only to meet their doom. And I actually felt awful for bringing that about, for killing creatures that know no better than to follow their instincts, however annoying or inconvenient their actions are to me or any other human...
There is so much destruction of peoples and cultures in this world, as there has been since humans learned to fight each other. With the recent rise of ISIS, Boko Haram and their vile ilk, humans who without a care wantonly set out to destroy anything or anyone that does not align with their vision of how the world should be, has come a change in how I view the world. I have become more tolerant and less tolerant at the same time, which is a confusing state of mind to say the least. But witnessing the destruction of astonishing historical sites, simply because they are deemed 'un-Islamic,' or whatever, has evidently had a profound effect on me. Killing these wasps as I have, wiping out a community of 'innocent' creatures, certainly in my mind draws parallels with what is going on out there. Quite obviously it cannot in any way truly compare, but the evils of the world seemed to have heightened my sensitivity to my own actions, even if those actions are 'merely' destroying a wasps' nest and all who dwelled in it.
This is very interesting food for thought. I have been going through many organic changes for the last couple of years, mostly for the better, and in seeing the death of a small society of creatures by my hand - even those that are universally acknowledged as pests - as something that troubles me, is a further mental development I find fascinating. At the end of the day it is such an infinitesimally insignificant event, both in my own world and the world at large, that I or no-one else need ever give it a second thought... yet I have.
When I told him about this, Victor just laughed. Susan, too. Perhaps they have a point? Watch this space, as this does not feel like the end of the story.
...bought a Billie Holiday 78, with Fine & Mellow on one side and the ever-affecting Strange Fruit on the other. It has instantly become one of my most treasured possessions. I listen to Billie's haunting voice through crackles and hiss that seem to represent the fog of time between its release and today.
...watched my lacrosse team, the Nanaimo Timbermen, totally fall apart. After promising much by starting the season with home-and-home victories against the seemingly unstoppable Victoria Shamrocks - the second best team in Canada - they have since dropped seven games in a row, and are headed absolutely nowhere. AGAIN. Season in, season out, it's always the same. If things continue like this I don't know how the team will survive. A good start would be to get rid of the asshole goalie and a coach evidently well out of his depth. Great players do not always great coaches make, and this is a classic example.
...was horrified and deeply concerned to learn of a friend (allegedly) succumbing to crack and/or heroin addiction. What the hell does one do in such circumstances? Intervene? If so, how? Stand back and let it unfold to its natural conclusion, whatever that may be? I am still trying to figure it out, but in the meantime all I can do is pray in my own way that she will somehow emerge from this nightmare.
...walked 40 kilometres (100 laps of the NDSS Rotary Bowl) for the Canadian Cancer Society, raising over $3,500 in the process. In the past I've rarely had the courage of my convictions, but having set myself such a difficult physical goal I am very proud of this achievement. It's a good feeling being top dog for once, especially when it concerns something that really matters.
...decided that when I grow up, I really want to work for the Canadian Cancer Society.
...celebrated three years' ownership of Reggie, our utterly beautiful, endlessly fascinating feline companion. He brings us endless joy, companionship and entertainment.
...nurtured our burgeoning vegetable garden. We are still novices, but having lots of fun seeing what we can grow successfully. It's looking pretty good, and in some delicious spinach we've already enjoyed the first fruits of our labours, so to speak.
...thoroughly enjoyed a reunion with a friend from the UK. We miss Jon (and his wife Jenny), so it was great to spend a few hours in his inimitable company, before he had to head off again to continue leading a group of birders around BC. Come back soon, buddy.
...clinked glasses with a friend who, after living and working (as a lawyer) in Canada for 44 years, finally became a Canadian citizen this month. 'Hilarious,' it was, how many hoops he had to jump through after all this time. To reiterate, he's a lawyer of pension age.
...saw my first roller derby bout in quite a long time. As much as I enjoy the spectacle, even better is Susan's wild reaction to events out on that track. She loves her derby, does my girl, whooping and hollering her approval. throughout "Get involved," I said, and she may well do so.
...experienced the joy of our friend Louise diving headlong into her first music festival, aged 65. After two years of ill health, it really was incredible to see her living a little at the ever-wonderful Campbell Bay Music Festival, where...
...saw some amazing bands and artists: Brasstronaut, Slow Sprit, Hannah Epperson, Wooden Horsemen and Speaker Face in particular.
Sir David Attenborough really ought to haul his ass and a camera crew over to our backyard. So much wildlife activity is occurring out there, it's just ridiculous. Beyond the wide variety of birds and Anna's Hummingbirds attracted to their respective feeders, all manner of fauna appearances are delighting us on an increasingly frequent basis. Following the extraordinary Halloween 2014 Red-Tailed Hawk Sighting, we've had a couple of entertaining wildlife events lately.
Our next door neighbours have a beautiful, ultra-fluffy cat named Bourbon, who likes nothing better than to crap on our lawn. Short of erecting a barbed wire fence to keep her out, there's little we can do to stop her, but as she's a beautiful animal we cannot help but enjoy her feline magnificence, even if she happens to be pinching one off at the time. Last week she had cause to make us guffaw, behaving in a way we'd never seen cats do before:
I spotted a lot of bird activity on the black plastic we laid down over the winter to kill off the weeds. There were maybe a couple dozen starlings ('tatty-heads,' as my dear mum used to call them), excitedly pecking away at something on the plastic. It had rained overnight and was warm, so I guess there were some bugs on the plastic that starlings savour. As they pecked away, Bourbon appeared through a gap in the fence, unseen by the birds. She moved stealthily and rapidly across the yard, belly brushing the ground, then - we could not believe this! - she went under the plastic in order to stalk the birds! A Bourbon-shaped lump moved across the area under the black plastic, causing us to almost spit our coffee across the kitchen (from where we have a great view of much of our yard). The lump moved slowly towards the birds, then they rumbled the approaching menace and took flight to safety. Susan was so concerned for Bourbon's safety that she went down into the yard to summon her out, lest she suffocate under there!
A few days later I was doing the dishes, absentmindedly looking out at the yard and bird feeder, when a black variant of the Eastern Grey Squirrel appeared from nowhere, sitting up on its back legs, frozen to the spot. Not a foot from its face, staring right at it, was an Anna's Hummingbird, stationary in the air. There they faced each other, stock still, in some kind of Mexican standoff, for a good ten to fifteen seconds. I watched, fascinated, then the hummingbird decided he/she had had enough of this larking about, so moved like a bullet to one of the feeders just outside the kitchen window. The squirrel then zoomed across the yard to our gate, climbed it, then immediately jumped off and tore down the back alley at an incredible speed...pursued by two cats! What happened next, as they disappeared from view, I have no idea.
With so much of this stuff on the Internet, it would be fun to be in the right place at the right time to capture some of this craziness and show the world what goes on in just one backyard in our little town. Heaven only knows what will happen next, but we would not rule anything out. If a three-legged cougar came wandering in and started playing baseball with Bourbon, observed by some great blue herons and a couple of elks, it wouldn't feel at all out of place.
Around six years ago, I was experiencing some heart flutters and bumps that naturally got me extremely concerned. I'd never felt such sensations before and, because it was a heart issue, whenever they occurred I went into a panic, naturally exacerbating the problem yet further. I visited the doc, who suspected the extremely common cardiac arrhythmia was to blame (which, ultimately, was correct, and it's now fine), so he arranged some tests.
While I was waiting for dates for these tests the sensations grew in severity, likely amplified by my terror, but on a couple of occasions scaring the living daylights out of me. I was having trouble trying to keep calm about it, so went back to the doc to request a small prescription for something like Ativan to sedate me a little until the test dates came through. As he reluctantly filled out a scrip, he said to me, "Well, David, maybe you should take this as a warning, and perhaps begin to get your affairs in order."
Can you effing believe that?! To this day, I cannot believe he said that to me, and everyone I've ever told about it - including other medical professionals - has been aghast at his utter lack of compassion, support and empathy, not to say anything of his obviously appalling bedside manner.
Over the last few weeks I've been experiencing some aches and pains around my right flank, being the site of my last cancer surgery at the tail-end of 2010. These have persisted, so with my health history I'm always going to check these things out. So I trundled back to the doc - who both Susan and I feel is always all but ushering us out of his office before we've even got in the door - to get it all checked out. He arranged blood work and an ultrasound, neither of which revealed anything of significance, but the lovely radiologist at the imaging clinic strongly recommended I press for a CT scan to cover all bases.
Back to the doc with her recommendation I went, and during that appointment - because he seemed trying to avoid setting up a CT scan for me - I was beginning to get the feeling he just didn't believe me, that he thought my pains are a product of my imagination. If there is one thing I most certainly am NOT, it's a hypochondriac!
So, I demanded a CT scan based on my health history alone, and he eventually agreed. The results came through to reveal nothing to concern my GP or anyone else involved in my health care, yet these aches and pains remain. Bewildered, I asked the doc what happens next. He looked at me with this disbelieving expression and said, "I guess your definition of pain and mine are very, very different," and told me there was nothing left to investigate.
I absolutely adore hummingbirds. I see them most every day of my life, and will never, ever get bored of watching them. For so many reasons, what extraordinary creatures they are! I love the wee critters so much that when deciding upon what I should get as my next tattoo - wanting something representative of my life on, and love for, the island I call home - I chose to get a copy of a beautiful First Nations carving of a hummingbird we picked up on Thetis Island a few years ago. (I get my new ink in May.)
So, all this said, imagine my squeals of delight and how hard I had to bite my bottom lip when recently stumbling across the incredible video below. I have seen thousands of cute animal videos, but in all my days I have never seen anything even remotely approaching the impossible cuteness of this clip. I'm not sure I will ever see anything so damned cute again! Even the photographs I saw just yesterday of twenty newly hatched chameleon babies - perfectly mini versions of their adult selves - can hold a candle to this awesome piece of film. As if I could not love hummingbirds anymore, just look at this...
When Twin Peaks was originally screened back in 1990-91, I was working long hours away from home (in Belfast), so missed pretty much all of it. Only now, all these years later, am I finally catching up and seeing what all the fuss was about. Susan bought the deluxe boxed set of both seasons a while back, and we are now watching episodes of it every other night. I'm finding it utterly compelling, especially a few years ago having visited Snoqualmie Falls and the Salish Lodge & Spa, which feature heavily in the show.
There are many fascinating characters in Twin Peaks, one of whom, the Log Lady, introduces each episode with a few lines of wisdom or veiled clues as to elements of the episode's content. As a writer, I particularly enjoyed her spiel preceding episode 10:
"Letters are symbols. They are building blocks of words which form our languages. Languages help us communicate. Even with complicated languages used by intelligent people, misunderstanding is a common occurrence. We write things down sometimes - letters, words - hoping they will serve us and those with whom we wish to communicate. Letters and words, calling out for understanding."
