So due to the dual forces of spending time with actual other people and procrastinating this blog for god knows what reason mean that it doesn't come out nearly as regularly as I hope and you readers are left with what this will probably turn out to be: a digest of Tim's Current Events and probably an over-lengthy, meandering, pseudo-existential investigation.
At best, it seems difficult to fully articulate what has gone on. As far as I can tell, thats because it involves girls. After getting back from Colorado, I was hanging out with folks at the Rose and talking to them. On July 4th, I took a fairly long walk with Caitlyn. We mostly talked about Stephen and what he means in this world. But at one point, near the end, she asked me "Why are you and Terra so afraid of each other?". Terra Marotz is a dudette I met second semester freshman year. Totally cool. We were afraid of each other basically because of society. She was dating this guy and had been for like a year (at the time that Caitlyn and I talked) and we couldn't get close because it would be suspicious.
That was going to be longer than I intended. I can't remember the order of things that have happened since I got back, but here are some of them. I met for like 40 minutes of coffee with this girl thatI go to church with named Jessie. It was awkward becaus I was like 20 min late and she had to leave for a study group soon. Also, as we were talking, I asked her "how are you with God?" and she gave me this stare and said "I don't think we're on that level yet". Usually, I don't have a problem talking to people about God.
Went upto Seattle with Marty and met Monica we walked around Pike's Place Market and then to the Sculpture Park. Then we went to Monica's sister's birthday party (her sister's name is Stephanie. I knew of her in highschool b/c I knew Monica, but we never really talked) which was ultra cool. Stephanie was wearing a magenta dress, a tutu and small wings. Her hair is sort of a maroon color. When I knew her in highschool, she was very demure and withdrawn, so it was a very enjoyable shock. Also at one point in the party, I met a girl called Jessica Linnenkol. I know her from my 7th and 8th grade years and a Christian private school. I have never met someone from there by random chance. It took me about 15 minutes and trip to the bathroom to match the face I saw that day with the face I remembered from school. After that, Marty and I went home.
I cleaned my entire house one day, starting at 18:00 and staying up until about 03:00. I organized a ton of school papers, set out all of my receipts and pulled my bank statements from my bank website so I can put it all in my computer. That still hasn't happened.
I helped Marty put some ceiling and walls in the former playhouse named "Wild Garlic". From my perspective, it is a most astonishing project.
I have been working full-time. Apparently I have been in a "bad mood" for the last couple of days and my boss has been asking me why. I told him it is because the office is so negative. Deep down he took me seriously but on the outside he doesn't really know how to deal with it because emotions are coming out in the work place and thats something he only expects to deal with at home. With his wife. And his daughters. I've done a lot a lot of web-browsing at work and that just makes me feel awful. My mom recommended I read this book called "The College Student and ADD" or something like that and I have and I'm becoming convinced that my mind works differently. It's hard for me to shift out of lethargy. All of the other guys at work browse to, but at the "right times" when there isn't immediate work to do. It's more efficient and honest than what I do, but they're still getting paid for it. I feel like I'm being eroded. But when I am doing actual work, it's very enjoyable.
After being asked by Caitlyn why I was so afraid of Terra, I actually had a long conversation with Terra in which we came clear with each other. It felt very honest and healthy.
I left last saturday to go up to Snohomish so I could catch the Edmonds ferry the next day across to Kingston in response to an invitation I recieved from Monica's dad, Stephen that I could visit him as long as I a) had something to talk about and b) would eat his food. Finally (after cancelling twice) I made it. In Snohomish I stayed with Grace and stayed up late talking with her. I went to (Catholic) church with her the next day and then went over to Kingston. I made it to the Barrett's (Stephen) house and had a very illuminating few hours of conversation with him. I also got to speak a bit with Monica as we biked down to Albertson's to pick up some stuff for dinner and dessert. Stephen cooked an immensely tender flank steak and Monica made impressive chocolate souffle w/ caramel sauce for desert. After that, I caught the ferry back to Seattle where I met Stephanie and we went to Compline at St. Marks Cathedral. After that we talked long enough for me to miss the late bus back to Tacoma, so I stayed with her until the next morning when I caught a bus back at around 06:30.
(More or less ironically, some guys at my work have been asking me about my romantic situation. I haven't even tried to start explaining. Actually I have. And it ends up in a sort of massive, unfocused confusion).
I ate twice at Farelli's, the new pizza place on Garfield Street and it's really good.
Terra got back from Montana on Monday and we had a long talk that night.
Out of much, she said two things to me that struck home that night. The first was that I was laying out girls like steaks on a grill, eyeing each one to see when it would be done and which one would turn out the best. My response was that I never plan to sacrifice love to romance. But that doesn't change the fact that I am working to know very well many seperate girls that are isolated from each other. The second was that she asked if knowing me was going to be like a rollercoaster. Like a rollercoaster in the sense of emotional volatility, not like its exciting. Both of those made me question myself a lot. In fact, I am still questioning.
(I wish I could bring together all the people in my life, easily. Cook food for them and give them a week in a beautiful house, free of the internet, of television, of electricity. I wish they could each have their own few days of sunlight and forests and then all be introduced to each other, to talk about what they thought of each other, what one had heard from me about another. I want this because I love all of you and I want to see you grow and I know that can't happen without being nurtured by good friends.)
I helped move an old WWII two tugboat which, Marty informed me, can pull anything that floats. It had two V12's that could fill my bedroom and were just generators for a huge electric motor. On that trip, I also met the man who owns and engineers the 4th largest steam engine in the world, weighing in at 1 million pounds and the philosophy and ethics professor who was named the United State Army's Most Valuable Employee in 2000.
I just resolved to allocate some actual thoughts and reflections to a second part.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
West Side of the Rockies
The sort of daily:
I got home from work and I've been thinking almost obsessively about my internal character. I've mentioned this before but consistency in my habits and actions seems insufferably simple and simultaneously quite elusive. It's almost as though my mind is just a great bay where ideas dock to, unloading and trading ideas that analog almost directly to thoughts and actions, and leave just as they came. They trade with each other. It's very difficult for me to find a sort of focus that lets me relax, but at the same time does justice to those ideas. If the Bible says "He who ignores the cries of the poor will also not be heard when he cries out," I can't just set that aside. When I'm late for work, or when I feel a pang of guilt (or desperation) for having banished another important relationship to my very nebulous mode of thought I am describing, I feel like a liar if I simply push those things out of my mind to focus on solving a single one at a time. Not to say that I don't have entire structures of lies that I depend upon, daily.
Yesterday (Monday) and maybe the day before that, I had moments of clarity. Yesterday (admittedly, after watching "Will and Grace".. while I was supposed to be cleaning the house) I felt an incredibly strong and singular desire to meet the one person I can spend the rest of my life with and love. It was simple, and it was longing. If love is forever a compromise, I think I might just abandon the whole thing and live my life serving the poor. Compromising is what happens to spaceships when they are boarded by hostile aliens, or governmental parties when they are both wrong, but neither are willing to admit it. I want to look into eyes and know I will be content for my entire life. If I have to wait until I look into the eyes of God for that assurance, so be it. My mind is dark and confusing and distilled enough as it is. I want to immediately esteem what that woman says over anyone else, aside from God, and I that allows for "I don't know" because Marty's dad said people don't admit what they don't know often enough (people named Tim Postlewaite, for example).
So really, I have no good ideas about the whole thing. I just know that sometimes my heart aches and I'm concious that nothing from friendly companionship, dating, one night stands (not a cup of tea I'm going to try, but I see why people would), fellowship, a relationship with God.
And one final thing. When (if? man, I hope its when) I meet that woman and starting having a relationship, I want to enjoy her. I know that sounds like a no brainer, but unless there is something I am just majorly missing, it seems like most couples don't. I want our enjoyment of each other to be a bigger deal than how much we limit ourselves from enjoying each other. To clarify, there is woman from CS Lewis' The Great Divorce who, as she loves and is loved, causes others to love their own respective spouses more. But that woman still had her husband and they loved each other. I don't want our faithfulness to be measured in how much we restrict our feelings for others, but more how appropriately those feelings are expressed, especially towards each other. I know this is sort of turning into a Christmas list, but I want to play. I have so much hope for that time, building card houses together, playing word games, hiking, watching chick flicks, feeling like a 'found' person, dressing up to go out, having dinners. I know it takes effort and a good attitude to maintain all of this, but I'm convinced that it is far from impossible. Also, I know (and am thankful that) there is more to relationships than all of this. But if anyone thinks they have to be less, then they are a damn fool. Love is expressly designed to be enjoyable and healthy, by God. Pardon my frustration :)
So thats where I'm at right now, but I'm going to write about where I was at a week ago, when we took a trip to Vail, Colorado (the word Colorado, by they way, is an Americanization of "colo roja" which is loosely Spanish for "color red" referring to the river. I have no idea how the "j" was replaced with a "d" and why the "o" and the "a" were switched but hey, thats America for you. We pronounce things better wrong). All said and done, it was a beautiful, fantastic adventure, wedding, and vacation. Outdoors-wise, we took a fairly tame river rafting trip, went on one of my father's (in)famously longer-than-implied hikes, explored some seriously cool caverns (around which probably the best "adventure park" in the world is set).
This is now about a month after the fact and a lot has happened in the interim. It is good to see family and I am sorry that it doesn't happen more often. There were huge houses in the mountains in Vail and what that means is a lot of money. I got along well with my cousins. I missed Jonathan, the one who was getting married. I also didn't spend nearly enough time with Jeff, one of the most beautiful people I know.
I got home from work and I've been thinking almost obsessively about my internal character. I've mentioned this before but consistency in my habits and actions seems insufferably simple and simultaneously quite elusive. It's almost as though my mind is just a great bay where ideas dock to, unloading and trading ideas that analog almost directly to thoughts and actions, and leave just as they came. They trade with each other. It's very difficult for me to find a sort of focus that lets me relax, but at the same time does justice to those ideas. If the Bible says "He who ignores the cries of the poor will also not be heard when he cries out," I can't just set that aside. When I'm late for work, or when I feel a pang of guilt (or desperation) for having banished another important relationship to my very nebulous mode of thought I am describing, I feel like a liar if I simply push those things out of my mind to focus on solving a single one at a time. Not to say that I don't have entire structures of lies that I depend upon, daily.
Yesterday (Monday) and maybe the day before that, I had moments of clarity. Yesterday (admittedly, after watching "Will and Grace".. while I was supposed to be cleaning the house) I felt an incredibly strong and singular desire to meet the one person I can spend the rest of my life with and love. It was simple, and it was longing. If love is forever a compromise, I think I might just abandon the whole thing and live my life serving the poor. Compromising is what happens to spaceships when they are boarded by hostile aliens, or governmental parties when they are both wrong, but neither are willing to admit it. I want to look into eyes and know I will be content for my entire life. If I have to wait until I look into the eyes of God for that assurance, so be it. My mind is dark and confusing and distilled enough as it is. I want to immediately esteem what that woman says over anyone else, aside from God, and I that allows for "I don't know" because Marty's dad said people don't admit what they don't know often enough (people named Tim Postlewaite, for example).
So really, I have no good ideas about the whole thing. I just know that sometimes my heart aches and I'm concious that nothing from friendly companionship, dating, one night stands (not a cup of tea I'm going to try, but I see why people would), fellowship, a relationship with God.
And one final thing. When (if? man, I hope its when) I meet that woman and starting having a relationship, I want to enjoy her. I know that sounds like a no brainer, but unless there is something I am just majorly missing, it seems like most couples don't. I want our enjoyment of each other to be a bigger deal than how much we limit ourselves from enjoying each other. To clarify, there is woman from CS Lewis' The Great Divorce who, as she loves and is loved, causes others to love their own respective spouses more. But that woman still had her husband and they loved each other. I don't want our faithfulness to be measured in how much we restrict our feelings for others, but more how appropriately those feelings are expressed, especially towards each other. I know this is sort of turning into a Christmas list, but I want to play. I have so much hope for that time, building card houses together, playing word games, hiking, watching chick flicks, feeling like a 'found' person, dressing up to go out, having dinners. I know it takes effort and a good attitude to maintain all of this, but I'm convinced that it is far from impossible. Also, I know (and am thankful that) there is more to relationships than all of this. But if anyone thinks they have to be less, then they are a damn fool. Love is expressly designed to be enjoyable and healthy, by God. Pardon my frustration :)
So thats where I'm at right now, but I'm going to write about where I was at a week ago, when we took a trip to Vail, Colorado (the word Colorado, by they way, is an Americanization of "colo roja" which is loosely Spanish for "color red" referring to the river. I have no idea how the "j" was replaced with a "d" and why the "o" and the "a" were switched but hey, thats America for you. We pronounce things better wrong). All said and done, it was a beautiful, fantastic adventure, wedding, and vacation. Outdoors-wise, we took a fairly tame river rafting trip, went on one of my father's (in)famously longer-than-implied hikes, explored some seriously cool caverns (around which probably the best "adventure park" in the world is set).
This is now about a month after the fact and a lot has happened in the interim. It is good to see family and I am sorry that it doesn't happen more often. There were huge houses in the mountains in Vail and what that means is a lot of money. I got along well with my cousins. I missed Jonathan, the one who was getting married. I also didn't spend nearly enough time with Jeff, one of the most beautiful people I know.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Asphalt
Left off with the trip from God. Originally I didn't write that it was from God, feeling wary that my friends who aren't Christian or more liberal would think I was too religious and maybe that my friends who are religious or more conservative would think that this was just beautiful, nice blessing. It was blessing, and it was beautiful at times, but it was also kind of worrisome and not entirely relaxing, until I actually let go of common sense and went into the Ocean.
Aslan isn't a tame lion. To all my church friends, love mother-in-laws, people with issues (me, and don't forget that. And I'm saying that I have issuses because a lot of the time, I try to put myself off as perfect, or at least amazing, when really I'm not.), gay people, crazy people, feminazi's, buddhists, anti-war advocates, environmentalists, devil-worshipers. Look, it's in the Bible, love sinners. I apologize if that sounds harsh or one-sided, but I am seriously worn out from going to church expecting to find at least the trappings of unconditional love, getting home to be with friends who are upset with the church as whole but turn out to be exceptionally sensitive and relaxed. And not-church-friends, I'm not making a judgement either way to whether you are good or bad, I hope.
Okay, nevermind. That was a bad hole. I love all of you. Of all the people I have met, there is not one that did not deserve my love. In fact, really, its an honor to be allowed to honor something as brilliant and fascinating as you human beings.
Anyway, back to the whowhatwherewhen. My memory of the content of this next post is patchy, but I remember it being important.
It begins mainly with my brother Greg's graduation. It was a very purely good to see him graduate, keeping in mind the things he has accomplished this past year. Eagle Scout, Emergency Search and Rescue certified, completing his senior project. Of the three of us, Greg far and away impresses me with his consistency. In our younger days I can remember myself (and perhaps John) more or less resenting him for his middle-child resistance to conflict. But underneath that, there was always a pang of being wrong. That pang has grown into a respect for my that will probably soon be impossible to deny. Which isn't to say that John doesn't also continually astonish and impress me. Okay, actually, for my entire family, I don't think I can really write words that express how intensely faithful and beautiful they are. Hopefully, you probably just have to see my face as I talk about them.
Hm. Don't think I meant to take that tangent. But it was worth it. Despite how enjoyable they are, I don't think of them often enough. It's strange, thinking about a wife and marriage and "my own" family... Although I long for a woman to spend the rest of my life with, I cannot imagine an existence other than pain and darkness in which I wasn't able to see my brothers and parents often.
Anywhoo, other than honoring my brother (which was very good) the graduation was... highschool. If songs are allowed to be called "good" for purely sentimental reasons, I think it's fair to say that this ceremenoy was, for sentimental reasons, pretty poor. One teacher gave a pretty engaging speech about, in my interpretation, that despite the virtual aristocracy of the Plateau the students impressed him with their surviving passion and intelligence. Of course, in a school where, the sports teams (and only a few of those) gets a king's ransom of funding, leaving the visual, performing and musical arts essentially to die (if the funding was in fact a king's ransom, the king being held hostage is probably creative energy) it's fairly obvious that there is not going to be overwhelming amounts of creation or ingenuity. At least not that I felt. Again, it was good to see Greg and honor him.
It is actually the things surrounding the graduation, on either side that I was concerned with. On the before end, I rode the bus into Seattle. It never ceases to fill me with anticipation, coming up I-5 past Boeing Field and viewing those first few massive, orange pier cranes. And then dropping into the city, being let off in a sort of nether region, 4th and Jackson, between the sort of industrial sprawl which meanders around Qwest and Safeco field, and the dense, focused vitality of downtown. And all of it connected, like skin holds the body together, by asphalt. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade a forest for anything, but I love walking the streets, bicyclng down the hills, nestled in automobile that might kill me but hasn't yet, past shops and hundreds or thousands of lives every day. There is a character there that can be interactive. Some love it, some hate Seattle with a passion. There is a personality that is not nearly as developed, diverse, or accessible in suburban areas. I felt all of this in a very explicit contrast and harmony with the intensities of nature, having returned from the coast only recently. In the end, I felt very warm and at home in both places.
On the other end of the graduation of 2007, there was an almost impromptu series of people from my class or older that I hadn't seen for anywhen from a few weeks to a year or two. It was mighty curious. As it turned out, Ashleigh Gage was willing to open her house for a few hours after for three of my high school companions of varying degree, Alex, Krystyna, and Aubrey. We were temporarily accompanied by Ashleigh's twelve or thirteen year old (?) cousin. I think children, or at least girls grow up too quickly. In fact, I often feel compelled to be silly to make up for all of the seriousness I thought was required of me as soon as possible. I like making bouquets and leaving them to be found.
We talked all the way back to Sammamish, bought some food, mango and Pirate's Booty, if I remember correctly. Alex and I both had some tart which was delicious and had begun to lightly mold. If there is one thing I have learned from Marty, it is this: if food is moldy, cut off the mold. Then look at it again as if there had been no mold. Then decided whether or not to eat it. As far as I can tell, I haven't gotten sick to date :D and I've enjoyed some pretty excellent stuff.
Most of what I remember of talking is that it was extremely odd. Some highschool habits had stuck while others showed no trace in us. I noticed myself doing or saying thigs that I never do anymore, feeling things that I generally don't feel. It was troubling because most of it felt like props that had to be put up and I have no idea why. That's all pretty vague, but I remembered it left me in an ultimately strange place and that I was very thankful to be friends with Alex Graves. Not for any one particularly strong reason. Later Alex, Aubrey, Krystyna and I went to Alex's house to talk for a while. The girls left within about 15-20 minutes of each other and then Alex went to bed and I blanketed up on the couch after beginning and dozing/watching Life Aquatic. THen around 5 something in the morning, Aubrey picked me up to take me to the bus station so that I could get down to work in time, which I did.
I am trying to remember what I felt after all that, because it was fundamental. I think that week, I felt increasingly lonliness and apathy, but all sort of spiced with a desperation to see people yet the isolation was perpetuated by tiredness from weeks working days and and empty house. It culminated thursday, I think, whn I went to see people with Marty. That might have been the week before leaving for Colorado.
I was reading His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, which is a very strange series. One of the strongest themes that always hits me is the adolexcent love between the two protagonists, and it only just appears perhaps two thirds or a three quarters towards the end of the final volume. It is innocent and passionate and intense all at once, and it feels like something I've either not had yet or missed completely. It is portrayed as though all of their actions, from spending time away from all others, to showing affection, to kissing, to simply being aware of each other is unabashed and unapologetic. and I that idea is both astonishing and very resonant with me.
I have written a lot tonight, and I plan to write more tomorrow. Of course, I planned to clean the house tonight, and I ended up writing, so we'll see if I plan to write and end up cleaning the house.
I wish all of you who have actually mananged to make it through these posts are well and that you wish all those that I know and those that I don't the same health and blessings.
Aslan isn't a tame lion. To all my church friends, love mother-in-laws, people with issues (me, and don't forget that. And I'm saying that I have issuses because a lot of the time, I try to put myself off as perfect, or at least amazing, when really I'm not.), gay people, crazy people, feminazi's, buddhists, anti-war advocates, environmentalists, devil-worshipers. Look, it's in the Bible, love sinners. I apologize if that sounds harsh or one-sided, but I am seriously worn out from going to church expecting to find at least the trappings of unconditional love, getting home to be with friends who are upset with the church as whole but turn out to be exceptionally sensitive and relaxed. And not-church-friends, I'm not making a judgement either way to whether you are good or bad, I hope.
Okay, nevermind. That was a bad hole. I love all of you. Of all the people I have met, there is not one that did not deserve my love. In fact, really, its an honor to be allowed to honor something as brilliant and fascinating as you human beings.
Anyway, back to the whowhatwherewhen. My memory of the content of this next post is patchy, but I remember it being important.
It begins mainly with my brother Greg's graduation. It was a very purely good to see him graduate, keeping in mind the things he has accomplished this past year. Eagle Scout, Emergency Search and Rescue certified, completing his senior project. Of the three of us, Greg far and away impresses me with his consistency. In our younger days I can remember myself (and perhaps John) more or less resenting him for his middle-child resistance to conflict. But underneath that, there was always a pang of being wrong. That pang has grown into a respect for my that will probably soon be impossible to deny. Which isn't to say that John doesn't also continually astonish and impress me. Okay, actually, for my entire family, I don't think I can really write words that express how intensely faithful and beautiful they are. Hopefully, you probably just have to see my face as I talk about them.
Hm. Don't think I meant to take that tangent. But it was worth it. Despite how enjoyable they are, I don't think of them often enough. It's strange, thinking about a wife and marriage and "my own" family... Although I long for a woman to spend the rest of my life with, I cannot imagine an existence other than pain and darkness in which I wasn't able to see my brothers and parents often.
Anywhoo, other than honoring my brother (which was very good) the graduation was... highschool. If songs are allowed to be called "good" for purely sentimental reasons, I think it's fair to say that this ceremenoy was, for sentimental reasons, pretty poor. One teacher gave a pretty engaging speech about, in my interpretation, that despite the virtual aristocracy of the Plateau the students impressed him with their surviving passion and intelligence. Of course, in a school where, the sports teams (and only a few of those) gets a king's ransom of funding, leaving the visual, performing and musical arts essentially to die (if the funding was in fact a king's ransom, the king being held hostage is probably creative energy) it's fairly obvious that there is not going to be overwhelming amounts of creation or ingenuity. At least not that I felt. Again, it was good to see Greg and honor him.
It is actually the things surrounding the graduation, on either side that I was concerned with. On the before end, I rode the bus into Seattle. It never ceases to fill me with anticipation, coming up I-5 past Boeing Field and viewing those first few massive, orange pier cranes. And then dropping into the city, being let off in a sort of nether region, 4th and Jackson, between the sort of industrial sprawl which meanders around Qwest and Safeco field, and the dense, focused vitality of downtown. And all of it connected, like skin holds the body together, by asphalt. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade a forest for anything, but I love walking the streets, bicyclng down the hills, nestled in automobile that might kill me but hasn't yet, past shops and hundreds or thousands of lives every day. There is a character there that can be interactive. Some love it, some hate Seattle with a passion. There is a personality that is not nearly as developed, diverse, or accessible in suburban areas. I felt all of this in a very explicit contrast and harmony with the intensities of nature, having returned from the coast only recently. In the end, I felt very warm and at home in both places.
On the other end of the graduation of 2007, there was an almost impromptu series of people from my class or older that I hadn't seen for anywhen from a few weeks to a year or two. It was mighty curious. As it turned out, Ashleigh Gage was willing to open her house for a few hours after for three of my high school companions of varying degree, Alex, Krystyna, and Aubrey. We were temporarily accompanied by Ashleigh's twelve or thirteen year old (?) cousin. I think children, or at least girls grow up too quickly. In fact, I often feel compelled to be silly to make up for all of the seriousness I thought was required of me as soon as possible. I like making bouquets and leaving them to be found.
We talked all the way back to Sammamish, bought some food, mango and Pirate's Booty, if I remember correctly. Alex and I both had some tart which was delicious and had begun to lightly mold. If there is one thing I have learned from Marty, it is this: if food is moldy, cut off the mold. Then look at it again as if there had been no mold. Then decided whether or not to eat it. As far as I can tell, I haven't gotten sick to date :D and I've enjoyed some pretty excellent stuff.
Most of what I remember of talking is that it was extremely odd. Some highschool habits had stuck while others showed no trace in us. I noticed myself doing or saying thigs that I never do anymore, feeling things that I generally don't feel. It was troubling because most of it felt like props that had to be put up and I have no idea why. That's all pretty vague, but I remembered it left me in an ultimately strange place and that I was very thankful to be friends with Alex Graves. Not for any one particularly strong reason. Later Alex, Aubrey, Krystyna and I went to Alex's house to talk for a while. The girls left within about 15-20 minutes of each other and then Alex went to bed and I blanketed up on the couch after beginning and dozing/watching Life Aquatic. THen around 5 something in the morning, Aubrey picked me up to take me to the bus station so that I could get down to work in time, which I did.
I am trying to remember what I felt after all that, because it was fundamental. I think that week, I felt increasingly lonliness and apathy, but all sort of spiced with a desperation to see people yet the isolation was perpetuated by tiredness from weeks working days and and empty house. It culminated thursday, I think, whn I went to see people with Marty. That might have been the week before leaving for Colorado.
I was reading His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, which is a very strange series. One of the strongest themes that always hits me is the adolexcent love between the two protagonists, and it only just appears perhaps two thirds or a three quarters towards the end of the final volume. It is innocent and passionate and intense all at once, and it feels like something I've either not had yet or missed completely. It is portrayed as though all of their actions, from spending time away from all others, to showing affection, to kissing, to simply being aware of each other is unabashed and unapologetic. and I that idea is both astonishing and very resonant with me.
I have written a lot tonight, and I plan to write more tomorrow. Of course, I planned to clean the house tonight, and I ended up writing, so we'll see if I plan to write and end up cleaning the house.
I wish all of you who have actually mananged to make it through these posts are well and that you wish all those that I know and those that I don't the same health and blessings.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Seasalt
So this is part two of what was going to be a really cool post about camping on the Pacific. Now its a trilogy. It's gonna be Pre-salt, Seasalt, and Asphalt. I say "going to be" because I haven't written this one (obviously) or the last one yet. Man, I love how I'm sort of taking this seriuously. Explaining why this is late.
Enough of that.
So I went to sleep. Marshall's backyard, in Toledo, in a tent. I think that was around 11. Honestly, one of the last things I remember is this popcorn Marshall's mom made, which was basically popcorn sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. In fact, thats exactly what it was. I woke up at 3 because Marty, Marshall, and Natalie had gone on a walk somwhere late that night.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I still love how seriously I'm taking this... no really. Okay its about three weeks later now from when all of this actually happened, but I hope it's still worth writing about. Sort of like how I hope this chicken in my freezer is still worth eating.
By the way, that dashed line signifies the time lapse. I'll probably never use it again.
So I woke up a lot. Turned out to be a good thing because I always had the pleasure of falling back asleep, usually warm. Yay for tents and sleeping pads.
The morning seemed to move with us, at our pace. We woke up, dressed and breakfasted with the sun, which is convenient because it meant we were on the road by about 9, heading out to the coast. By this our most intimate weekend fellows, the wind and the rain were keeping us close company. We stopped at a grocery store and in full spirit of proverbs 23:6-7 "Do not eat the food of a stingy man, do not crave his delicacies, for he is the kind of man who is always thinking about the cost. 'Eat and drink,' he says to you, but his heart is not with you.' ". Well, our hearts were definitely with us, as it was.
After more driving we arrived at the highway running along the coast. By this time, my personal hope of spending the day lying upon the beach had been transformed, radically and, depending on your point of view, mercilessly (considering the solemn, and yet almost gleeful joy of the weather, dashing my wish) or mercifully (as in one Calvin and Hobbes comic, Calvin and Hobbes are discussing wishes and Calvin wishes for something along the lines of a helicopter or super powers and Hobbes wishes for a sandwich. Naturally, as Hobbes points out, he got his wish) transformed into the hope of just getting to sleep in something that was warm and dry (which is rather uncommon in those parts). We drove about, still half-heartedly entertaining ideas of just striking out and pitching our tent, to heck with the rangers. Then I'd had enough and was willing to pay for a site. Given the weather, even if a ranger had found us, I'm not sure he'd be so much reprimanding as thinking we were complete fools and had already gotten our just reward from the mere environment. That adventure may just have to wait.
We got our site and began two activities that continually vied for the spot of "Most Trying upon the Patience of Tim Postlewaite", at least for the time of which their successful accomplishment was in serious doubt. Those two activities were starting a fire and setting, which, despite my most fervent and astonished worrying, turned out very well. They were both adventures in and of themselves.
Anyway, once the fire got started, that was almost the end of any constructive actions. For all we could tell, that fire was basically the only thing worth living for. Tell me about anything, true love, the meaning of life, music, the advent of caclulus, food and water, airplanes, justice and mercy, and you would probably a pretty hard time convincing me anything was more important than that pile of soggy, burning hunks of wood. Well maybe not food. And, as far as I was concerned, we were getting enough water for Noah to let all the animals know that there was going to be a 40 day, 40 night reunion tour of the whole freakin Earth all over again.
Of course, being as singly content as a toddler with a cardboard box can only last so long. Over the course of about 40 minutes, the novelty of having only one side of our bodies warm and dry at any given point had worn off, so naturally decided to go swimming. It was one dream that, come hell or high water (which, as far I as I was concerned, were both about to make a singularly stunning debut) was going to happen. Everyone had their doubts, keeping in mind hypothermia, so it fell to (cough) the two Boy Scouts, Marshall and myself, to hold up the long, and time honored tradition of being complete (but watchful!) idiots. All of us changed into our suits and embarked on what I felt to be the climax of the trip.
The beach was a short way through a fairly thin strip off trees that ran parallel to the beach as far as we could see. As we made our way along what was, despite all appearances, a path, I made myself stop shivering. Good sign. As the beach crept up from behind a sand dune (as much as something as colossal and awesome as the shore of an ocean can creep up behind anything) we were met with the sight of wisps of sand, playing quickly across the beach in the more excited gusts of wind. I can't remember a time before that one in which I had seen sand moved so quickly, motivated by nothing but the air. Never felt it before either, which I'll get to later. After we made it over the small hill seperated the beach from the land, in a very uninterrupted motion, we strode down to some logs, stripped down and walked into the ocean. There was a very call thrill. Waves crashed in, creating pushes toward the beach, but a wholly perpendicular and just as insistent current was in the air with the wind. We proceded further out, Marshall, Marty and I. Grace, who had been ill with mononucleosis remained on a bunch of logs, away from the water. Natalie patrolled up and down the coast as our life guard while Ashley stayed somewhere between her and us. I don't remember much of what the others were doing because the dual feelings of the massive expanse and raw power of the ocean and storm, combined with an immense fulfillment of expectation and longing for the chance to abandon so many traces of society were overwhelming. I would walk into the wind or out into the waves, feeling both of them crash over my body. My skin had become so tight that warmth became firmly tucked in my chest and casually rationed itself out to my extremities. The chaos of being buried in a wave became a tumble of relief from the unconcerned violence of the wind. Thoughts fled, leaving vacancy in my mind for peace and meditation. Nothing changed and nothing stayed the same. I couldn't stay there long enough and I would not stay there forever.
It was lucid, reckless abandon. Ivory bliss, and a taut relaxation that cannot be adulterated by any sort of human ideas or thoughts. Humanity can only (thank God) submit to such majesty. Without submission, the majesty can do nothing but remove its blessing.
Somewhere in my mind I was keeping watch of Marshall, who would go out further than any of us. The waves were such that although he could stand during the trough of the wave, he was behind the crest and we would lose sight of him. Eventually he came a little further in. I walked up the beach to pull on my clothes, in a pile, subject to the early stages of burial. Eventually everyone made their way back to the logs and Grace, which had served as a beacon so that we would not lose our bearing. We headed back to our camp site. Dinner was cooked and we ate, rum was mixed with cranberry juice and passed around, much to everyone's delight. To our further delight, finally, the cranberry juice ran out. Our glasses were the finest, none other than bottled water bottles, wihth the tops sheared off with camping knives. We had many fine things, including fruit, potatoes, and yams all seperately wrapped in tin foil and roasted. There were bratwursts and nuts and cabbage and cheese. All in all, it was a fine meal. I spent it mostly with Grace in the (twelve person) tent. Generally I was tipsy from the rum, to the point where everything feels delicious. People came and went, but mostly it was just Grace and I talking. I was vaguely aware of some light drama involving Marshall, Natalie, Ashley, and Marty but it wasn't my part of the story. Plus, I was very much enjoying the effects of rum. As well as the others. At one point, Natalie I beleive accused me probably a being drunk to which I responded in firm negative. Apparently, it was firm indeed, because then she (probably rightfully) called me defensive to which I replied with all of the intensity I could muster, "I am NOT defensive!". Of course, no one believed me. Gradually we all came to be in the tent as darkness fell. Talk became less frequent and then we fell asleep.
The rest of the trip was fairly non-eventful. We woke up and ate breakfast, packed up and left, smelling of smoke and saltwater. We wanted to get back, a desire made much more acute by the fact that in our car (Marty, Grace, and Ashley had left seperately and earlier because Grace and Ashley had to be back in Snohomish by that evening) drove 40 minutes in the wrong direction on an ocean highway. When we got back we set up the tent (to dry it out) and washed up, and reconvening at Natalie's house to finish off the food and watch the Chronicles of Narnia and Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Long weekend.
Enough of that.
So I went to sleep. Marshall's backyard, in Toledo, in a tent. I think that was around 11. Honestly, one of the last things I remember is this popcorn Marshall's mom made, which was basically popcorn sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. In fact, thats exactly what it was. I woke up at 3 because Marty, Marshall, and Natalie had gone on a walk somwhere late that night.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I still love how seriously I'm taking this... no really. Okay its about three weeks later now from when all of this actually happened, but I hope it's still worth writing about. Sort of like how I hope this chicken in my freezer is still worth eating.
By the way, that dashed line signifies the time lapse. I'll probably never use it again.
So I woke up a lot. Turned out to be a good thing because I always had the pleasure of falling back asleep, usually warm. Yay for tents and sleeping pads.
The morning seemed to move with us, at our pace. We woke up, dressed and breakfasted with the sun, which is convenient because it meant we were on the road by about 9, heading out to the coast. By this our most intimate weekend fellows, the wind and the rain were keeping us close company. We stopped at a grocery store and in full spirit of proverbs 23:6-7 "Do not eat the food of a stingy man, do not crave his delicacies, for he is the kind of man who is always thinking about the cost. 'Eat and drink,' he says to you, but his heart is not with you.' ". Well, our hearts were definitely with us, as it was.
After more driving we arrived at the highway running along the coast. By this time, my personal hope of spending the day lying upon the beach had been transformed, radically and, depending on your point of view, mercilessly (considering the solemn, and yet almost gleeful joy of the weather, dashing my wish) or mercifully (as in one Calvin and Hobbes comic, Calvin and Hobbes are discussing wishes and Calvin wishes for something along the lines of a helicopter or super powers and Hobbes wishes for a sandwich. Naturally, as Hobbes points out, he got his wish) transformed into the hope of just getting to sleep in something that was warm and dry (which is rather uncommon in those parts). We drove about, still half-heartedly entertaining ideas of just striking out and pitching our tent, to heck with the rangers. Then I'd had enough and was willing to pay for a site. Given the weather, even if a ranger had found us, I'm not sure he'd be so much reprimanding as thinking we were complete fools and had already gotten our just reward from the mere environment. That adventure may just have to wait.
We got our site and began two activities that continually vied for the spot of "Most Trying upon the Patience of Tim Postlewaite", at least for the time of which their successful accomplishment was in serious doubt. Those two activities were starting a fire and setting, which, despite my most fervent and astonished worrying, turned out very well. They were both adventures in and of themselves.
Anyway, once the fire got started, that was almost the end of any constructive actions. For all we could tell, that fire was basically the only thing worth living for. Tell me about anything, true love, the meaning of life, music, the advent of caclulus, food and water, airplanes, justice and mercy, and you would probably a pretty hard time convincing me anything was more important than that pile of soggy, burning hunks of wood. Well maybe not food. And, as far as I was concerned, we were getting enough water for Noah to let all the animals know that there was going to be a 40 day, 40 night reunion tour of the whole freakin Earth all over again.
Of course, being as singly content as a toddler with a cardboard box can only last so long. Over the course of about 40 minutes, the novelty of having only one side of our bodies warm and dry at any given point had worn off, so naturally decided to go swimming. It was one dream that, come hell or high water (which, as far I as I was concerned, were both about to make a singularly stunning debut) was going to happen. Everyone had their doubts, keeping in mind hypothermia, so it fell to (cough) the two Boy Scouts, Marshall and myself, to hold up the long, and time honored tradition of being complete (but watchful!) idiots. All of us changed into our suits and embarked on what I felt to be the climax of the trip.
The beach was a short way through a fairly thin strip off trees that ran parallel to the beach as far as we could see. As we made our way along what was, despite all appearances, a path, I made myself stop shivering. Good sign. As the beach crept up from behind a sand dune (as much as something as colossal and awesome as the shore of an ocean can creep up behind anything) we were met with the sight of wisps of sand, playing quickly across the beach in the more excited gusts of wind. I can't remember a time before that one in which I had seen sand moved so quickly, motivated by nothing but the air. Never felt it before either, which I'll get to later. After we made it over the small hill seperated the beach from the land, in a very uninterrupted motion, we strode down to some logs, stripped down and walked into the ocean. There was a very call thrill. Waves crashed in, creating pushes toward the beach, but a wholly perpendicular and just as insistent current was in the air with the wind. We proceded further out, Marshall, Marty and I. Grace, who had been ill with mononucleosis remained on a bunch of logs, away from the water. Natalie patrolled up and down the coast as our life guard while Ashley stayed somewhere between her and us. I don't remember much of what the others were doing because the dual feelings of the massive expanse and raw power of the ocean and storm, combined with an immense fulfillment of expectation and longing for the chance to abandon so many traces of society were overwhelming. I would walk into the wind or out into the waves, feeling both of them crash over my body. My skin had become so tight that warmth became firmly tucked in my chest and casually rationed itself out to my extremities. The chaos of being buried in a wave became a tumble of relief from the unconcerned violence of the wind. Thoughts fled, leaving vacancy in my mind for peace and meditation. Nothing changed and nothing stayed the same. I couldn't stay there long enough and I would not stay there forever.
It was lucid, reckless abandon. Ivory bliss, and a taut relaxation that cannot be adulterated by any sort of human ideas or thoughts. Humanity can only (thank God) submit to such majesty. Without submission, the majesty can do nothing but remove its blessing.
Somewhere in my mind I was keeping watch of Marshall, who would go out further than any of us. The waves were such that although he could stand during the trough of the wave, he was behind the crest and we would lose sight of him. Eventually he came a little further in. I walked up the beach to pull on my clothes, in a pile, subject to the early stages of burial. Eventually everyone made their way back to the logs and Grace, which had served as a beacon so that we would not lose our bearing. We headed back to our camp site. Dinner was cooked and we ate, rum was mixed with cranberry juice and passed around, much to everyone's delight. To our further delight, finally, the cranberry juice ran out. Our glasses were the finest, none other than bottled water bottles, wihth the tops sheared off with camping knives. We had many fine things, including fruit, potatoes, and yams all seperately wrapped in tin foil and roasted. There were bratwursts and nuts and cabbage and cheese. All in all, it was a fine meal. I spent it mostly with Grace in the (twelve person) tent. Generally I was tipsy from the rum, to the point where everything feels delicious. People came and went, but mostly it was just Grace and I talking. I was vaguely aware of some light drama involving Marshall, Natalie, Ashley, and Marty but it wasn't my part of the story. Plus, I was very much enjoying the effects of rum. As well as the others. At one point, Natalie I beleive accused me probably a being drunk to which I responded in firm negative. Apparently, it was firm indeed, because then she (probably rightfully) called me defensive to which I replied with all of the intensity I could muster, "I am NOT defensive!". Of course, no one believed me. Gradually we all came to be in the tent as darkness fell. Talk became less frequent and then we fell asleep.
The rest of the trip was fairly non-eventful. We woke up and ate breakfast, packed up and left, smelling of smoke and saltwater. We wanted to get back, a desire made much more acute by the fact that in our car (Marty, Grace, and Ashley had left seperately and earlier because Grace and Ashley had to be back in Snohomish by that evening) drove 40 minutes in the wrong direction on an ocean highway. When we got back we set up the tent (to dry it out) and washed up, and reconvening at Natalie's house to finish off the food and watch the Chronicles of Narnia and Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Long weekend.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Pre-Salt
This post (actually the next three, maybe four) has been long in coming and addresses one of the most excellent experiences I have had perhaps in my life and certainly most recently.
Tangent: Before I really get into this, I just want to note that I am considering treating these more like publications than simple releases. Right now, and for the past couple of days, looking over my last posts, I am pulled to craft more expression into them. Then again I think that may simply come with time.
Tangent: I am getting to the point where I wish I could change my bicycle into other things like food or a form of worship. It is such a good thing to ride. I want everyone to start ride it and take it out for like 10-15 at least. The down side is that with my estimations now, I still need 500-600 to start to get the "extras" (see gloves, padded shorts, panniers, etc. (see necessities)). Fortunately, by my parent's wonderful generosity, I have the bike itself (they payed for the first half because I apparently goofed up the transfer of the first half from my savings to checking). I secretly pray for some massive oil collapse so that I can heroically take my bike over the rubble and destruction, delivering medicine and happiness. I'd basically be Balto mixed with a bike messenger. I'd probably save the day, fall in passionate love with some grateful, yet also heroic woman. College is great, but really my plan is to become a bike hero.
Um, wow. I knew I'd been thinking that, but never really got it out there. Anyway, this most amazing experience logistically consisted of leaving last Friday "right after work" (work ended at 17:00
Tangent: I'm training myself in 24 hour (aka military) time and less rigorously in metric. I have a binary 24 hour clock which helps and I have my personalized google homepage set to Celcius temperature, which I like a lot. 30 degrees is freaking hot. I guess you'll'll (that is, "you all will") have to deal.
So "right after work", which ended at 17:00 translated to 18:30. So far so good. Natalie Heikennen (theater major, a little older than me, totally cool although for some reason I'm not fully aware of, I've always felt just a little awkward around), Marshall Hughes (in ROTC, Eagle Scout, swears like a sailor, drinks like a fish, but most importantly loves like a brother), Marty Peterson (If you live in WA, come visit me sometime before mid-July because he is leaving for Norway to go build a Norwegian boat starting with cutting down the trees, so that I can introduce you to him. You must meet him. If you don't live in WA, then well basically the same thing applies but I understand if you can't make it before mid-July) and I (I'm basically confusing) left for Marshall's town of Toledo. It was a nice drive down the Five, full of good music and conversation. When we started approaching Toledo, Marshall spoke to us of his childhood adventures, who he bucked hay for.
*BREAKING NEWS*: Not necessarilly good news. I just bought Kingdowm Hearts and Kingdom Hearts II for the Playstation 2 (or 3) for about $40 from Amazon.com. Apparently they are really excellent role playing games, a joint effort from Disney and Square Enix. This is Friday. I am post about something that happened right now in a post that is largely about things that happened a week ago. This is probably an example of my inconsistent living. I was distracted from blogging by work. More or less.
Back to it, though. So we are driving down into Toledo with Marshall telling us about everything from Boy Scouts, exploring and football to drinking and run-ins with THE LAW. You should ask him to tell you. And actually most of the story telling happened while he was taking us on a tour of Toledo, after we had met his parents and their house which we stayed in (or around, in the case of the boys + Natalie) for the Fri-Sat night. When we got back from walking around (which Marty and I did barefoot and it felt great) we had some pizza for dinner. I spent a bit of time talking with Marshall's mom and Natalie and Marty, and then I went in to watch the evening news with Marshall's dad. I hadn't watched the news in like months, so it was pretty interesting to see what the network thought was important. I can't remember what it was. I think the others had gone on a walk but I couldn't be sure. Anyway the evening just sort of passed. Until the most important part. Which was, undoubtedly, the watching of "Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb", for those of you who don't know what it is, it is a movie set in the middle of the Cold War era, dealing with the issue of Mutually Assured Destruction. Marshall's dad sprinkled the viewing with trivia while fairly demanding that everyone else keep quiet. Some of the trivia seemed to pop up a couple of minutes later in the dialog, but it was interesting nonetheless. The film was directed by Stanley Kubrick (A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket, 2001: A Space Odyssey) which means the entire film was a bunch of "absolutely absurd moments juxtaposed with stark reality" - Marshall's Dad. And I agree entirely. It was fantastic. I laughed a lot. It is clever and absurd. Well, the movie and its creation is clever. Apparently, society is absurd.
After that, I chatted a bit (sort of awkwardly because I what I actually wanted to do was sleep) and then I went to bed and drifted off to the sleep. For the first of a number of times that night.
Tangent: Before I really get into this, I just want to note that I am considering treating these more like publications than simple releases. Right now, and for the past couple of days, looking over my last posts, I am pulled to craft more expression into them. Then again I think that may simply come with time.
Tangent: I am getting to the point where I wish I could change my bicycle into other things like food or a form of worship. It is such a good thing to ride. I want everyone to start ride it and take it out for like 10-15 at least. The down side is that with my estimations now, I still need 500-600 to start to get the "extras" (see gloves, padded shorts, panniers, etc. (see necessities)). Fortunately, by my parent's wonderful generosity, I have the bike itself (they payed for the first half because I apparently goofed up the transfer of the first half from my savings to checking). I secretly pray for some massive oil collapse so that I can heroically take my bike over the rubble and destruction, delivering medicine and happiness. I'd basically be Balto mixed with a bike messenger. I'd probably save the day, fall in passionate love with some grateful, yet also heroic woman. College is great, but really my plan is to become a bike hero.
Um, wow. I knew I'd been thinking that, but never really got it out there. Anyway, this most amazing experience logistically consisted of leaving last Friday "right after work" (work ended at 17:00
Tangent: I'm training myself in 24 hour (aka military) time and less rigorously in metric. I have a binary 24 hour clock which helps and I have my personalized google homepage set to Celcius temperature, which I like a lot. 30 degrees is freaking hot. I guess you'll'll (that is, "you all will") have to deal.
So "right after work", which ended at 17:00 translated to 18:30. So far so good. Natalie Heikennen (theater major, a little older than me, totally cool although for some reason I'm not fully aware of, I've always felt just a little awkward around), Marshall Hughes (in ROTC, Eagle Scout, swears like a sailor, drinks like a fish, but most importantly loves like a brother), Marty Peterson (If you live in WA, come visit me sometime before mid-July because he is leaving for Norway to go build a Norwegian boat starting with cutting down the trees, so that I can introduce you to him. You must meet him. If you don't live in WA, then well basically the same thing applies but I understand if you can't make it before mid-July) and I (I'm basically confusing) left for Marshall's town of Toledo. It was a nice drive down the Five, full of good music and conversation. When we started approaching Toledo, Marshall spoke to us of his childhood adventures, who he bucked hay for.
*BREAKING NEWS*: Not necessarilly good news. I just bought Kingdowm Hearts and Kingdom Hearts II for the Playstation 2 (or 3) for about $40 from Amazon.com. Apparently they are really excellent role playing games, a joint effort from Disney and Square Enix. This is Friday. I am post about something that happened right now in a post that is largely about things that happened a week ago. This is probably an example of my inconsistent living. I was distracted from blogging by work. More or less.
Back to it, though. So we are driving down into Toledo with Marshall telling us about everything from Boy Scouts, exploring and football to drinking and run-ins with THE LAW. You should ask him to tell you. And actually most of the story telling happened while he was taking us on a tour of Toledo, after we had met his parents and their house which we stayed in (or around, in the case of the boys + Natalie) for the Fri-Sat night. When we got back from walking around (which Marty and I did barefoot and it felt great) we had some pizza for dinner. I spent a bit of time talking with Marshall's mom and Natalie and Marty, and then I went in to watch the evening news with Marshall's dad. I hadn't watched the news in like months, so it was pretty interesting to see what the network thought was important. I can't remember what it was. I think the others had gone on a walk but I couldn't be sure. Anyway the evening just sort of passed. Until the most important part. Which was, undoubtedly, the watching of "Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb", for those of you who don't know what it is, it is a movie set in the middle of the Cold War era, dealing with the issue of Mutually Assured Destruction. Marshall's dad sprinkled the viewing with trivia while fairly demanding that everyone else keep quiet. Some of the trivia seemed to pop up a couple of minutes later in the dialog, but it was interesting nonetheless. The film was directed by Stanley Kubrick (A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket, 2001: A Space Odyssey) which means the entire film was a bunch of "absolutely absurd moments juxtaposed with stark reality" - Marshall's Dad. And I agree entirely. It was fantastic. I laughed a lot. It is clever and absurd. Well, the movie and its creation is clever. Apparently, society is absurd.
After that, I chatted a bit (sort of awkwardly because I what I actually wanted to do was sleep) and then I went to bed and drifted off to the sleep. For the first of a number of times that night.
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