Saturday, Dec. 27, 2003 - 8:34 p.m.

I'm Swillin' Eggnog

Okay, I need to write a hodgepodge post of tasty tidbits.

First, my friend Squirrel Life has a new diary. All it has on it now is something written by someone in India, but I look forward to seeing stuff by him, because he’s quite a good writer, and a post-leftist anarchist as well.

For those of us so jaded by the modern world that even Dr. Pepper lacks sufficient pep, I picked up a helpful tip from my sister: add lime juice. The pep is back, and the world is young again.

It’s the best concoction I’ve had since mixing cola and eggnog.

I’ve been on edge, worried I won’t be able to pay my rent on time. I ordered a bank wire on the 22nd and I haven’t received the funds yet. Probably delayed due to Christmas vacation. I could have, should have done it earlier, but I was too depressed to do much of anything. Now I’m waiting, hoping it comes through before the end of the month. I could cash out more of my investments, and have money sent to me some other way, but I have no reason to believe it’s necessary. I also have no reason to believe it’s not necessary, since the company I dealt with made no promises about how fast I’d get the funds. I miss my ATM card with which I used to be able to withdraw e-gold within 72 hours, or within24 hours if I paid more. That ATM card company seems to have gone out of business. I think I’ll get a new card from some other company. Anyway, mired in end-of-the-month anxiety and growing weary of my de facto living paycheck-to-paycheck, I remembered to be mindful. I focused on observing my emotions, and presto, on the flipside of fear and discouragement was delight and inner peace. I think these days I’m remembering more often that if I’m suffering, it must be because I’m attached, and if I’m attached, there’s something I can do immediately to remedy that. I’m grateful for another opportunity to practice.

As for eggnog, it’s my favorite milkshake. I like it good and nutmeggy and thickened with plenty of guar gum and carrageenan. I think I’ve gotten fatter as a result, but it’s worth it for eggnog, and besides, it’s only available during December. On my way back from my sister’s place, my dad offered to buy me something at Starbucks, so not liking coffee much, I tried an eggnog latte, but it was revolting. It was the first time I ever patronized Starbucks and I was duly punished for my transgression. Feeling slightly less compelled to pinch pennies, I’ve started buying some organically grown food, cause it is a movement I’d like to support (if I think I can do so without jeopardizing myself financially) and some of the time I can actually taste the difference. I recently splurged on a 946 milliliter carton of organic nog, and though it was less spiced than the Safeway brand, it was flavorful in a way I had not dreamed possible.

I saw Master and Commander. I could tell from the title that this film was going to be very authoritarian. Call me psychic. I couldn’t sympathize for the characters much, since they were sheepishly allowing themselves to play the role of expendable pawns of empire. At the same time, I felt a little sorry for them, as I do for U.S. soldiers in Iraq, that they could think of no better option than to allow themselves to be used and abused in this way. I thought it was hilarious that the officers dressed up in big frilly uniforms, sipped tea out of little china teacups, ate gourmet food, and played classical music. It was easy to see that their clothes were likely wet all the time, and they probably smelled as bad as the rest of the crew. I was glad that at the end of the film, the sailors were shown for what they really were: vicious killers. The captain and the doctor, for all their high culture, were just thugs with pointed sticks murdering rival thugs as part of a global gang war to determine which organized crime cartel (i.e. government) would dominate.

The story didn’t seem to have a message, it was more like just trying to be descriptive of history, while making a few allowances for entertainment value. All through it, the dirty limericks of “Friggin’ in the Riggin’” by the Sex Pistols kept going through my head.

What would I have done if I suddenly found myself in the crew, Quantum Leap-style? I guess I’d try to foment a mutiny, and then sail off to some pristine isle in the South Pacific, get assimilated into the culture of the natives, and evade the European empires for as long as possible. Barring that, I’d wait for an opportune moment to defy some orders, and then make some gallant speeches about liberty while being flogged to death. It’s preferable to killing and/or dying as a henchman of empire.

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