English Bay on the longest day
English Bay on the longest day
How are you holding up? So many countries, you are always on the go. Do you like flying? I hope so.
When you aren’t in the U.K. or Brazil, Italy, France and all those other places, you come to Canada. Do you like it the best?
I’ll pour some wine.
That solar vortex they’ve been talking about, it’s hit Vancouver. It is very beautiful but cold. Whistler cold. Antarctica cold. Ok, not that cold.
The wine is good. Prophecy Pinot Noir California
Have you ever been to California? It’s wonderful! I feel like a million the moment I step off that plane…It’s winter here, it’s dark, people are coughing.
The drive to the airport…
A lot of drugs and alcohol later, a balmy breeze ruffles my freshly coiffed hair, gently dispersing the Chanel Chance green I bought at the duty free. Flowering cacti blanket the sandy hills. But I digress …
I’ve been meaning to express my appreciation. You’ve been with me for 10 years. Thank you!
Every now and then I look for where you are, and wonder what you’re doing there. What are you doing there? Really?
I’m going to California soon. The sun will be setting. The air will be sweet.
You were in Egypt yesterday. Is the terrain similar? Have you been to the pyramids? Does the desert there bloom?
So many questions but this is a one way conversation. I’m more of a listener anyway; shy, introverted. It’s why I started this blog, to get over myself. It was hard at first. But now it’s fun. And you are a big reason, knowing you are out there, interested.
Dear Reader, enjoy your travels. Stay in touch.
Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
Your pin would help to mend a mill
His knife see rustic Labour wipe,
Then spoon for spoon, the stretch and strive:
Is there that over his French ragout,
Poor devil! see him over his trash,
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
You powers, who make mankind your care,
She said: You seemed a little tentative last time I brought trifle.
20 minutes after dinner, while she’s freshening up,
then midnight to 2 should finish it.
She said: But I know you like custard
… still a few hours tomorrow morning before the noon deadline …
She said: So I made it myself
Bernie’s away. I’ll have to chair the directors’ meeting.
She looks very pleased with herself.
Check the agenda.
She said: I did keep the jello. I know you like raspberries!
Ok…, distracted now by the open wine …
Good, as long as no one wants to add Other Business …
She said: Mmmm
She’s smelling it.
I probably won’t need the time anyway, but it’ll take the pressure off.
She likes it.
She said: Ouzo?
Ouzo, sure, ouzo has a good effect on her.
Those grey sheer curtains aren’t working. That was their mistake. I know I ordered …
She said: Cheers!
I’ll be in the Review at least until 2, last time it was after 3,
…what is the topic?
She is very pretty,
She said: Earth to Asteroid 8240, come in…
She seems so happy to see me.
I love her laugh.
Don’t like them; … the highs, ok, they’re good.
But screaming down that hill into the abyss: The lows. They suck.
Every now and then a slight tremor, a gentle shake, even a humorous jolt – one every long while is ok.
Smooth gliding, just coast, that’s what I want.
Not bad surprises around the bend, tears, spasms in the gut, that nauseous feeling and what comes next.
Nope. No siree. Don’t need it.
A multitude of glistening spheres bubbling up from the depths, an awesome surprise, yes, bring that on.
Jiggles, giggles, fantasy come true.
The magical ride, that one over there with the golden lights
picking up a little speed as it heads for the tunnel…
“How am I supposed to breathe when you take my breath away?” (Greg Sczebel)
Brian Greene and I speak the same language, English, at least in some of his books.
His simple explanations bring concepts into focus for simple me.
His Introduction was a pleasure.
And then the Introduction ended.
The main event began.
The Meaning of Relativity
“The theory of relativity is closely connected with the theory of space and time. I shall therefore begin with a brief investigation of the origin of our ideas of space and time, although in doing so I know that I introduce a controversial subject. …”*
As much as I cherished the lessons from Brian Greene, here now was Albert Einstein, talking to me like I understood every word.
Communication is so important. Despite the wide chasm in our I.Q.s, we were doing just fine since we met 3 minutes ago. I eased deeper into the Macy’s Martha Stewart medium and extra firm pillows, took some deep relaxing breaths, and rejoiced in my good luck to finally be introduced to him, Albert Einstein, after all these years. Why had I resisted for so long?
“…By means of simple changes in position we can bring two bodies into contact…”*
He is a sweet talker. I don’t mind.
But then, as all relationships do I suppose, a perturbation arose. It happened when I turned to page 4; a lack of understanding if you will, a gap.
What was that?
– An equation.
I read the passage once more, and again. Yes, phew, got through that hurdle. And we are back on track.
“Does anyone ever call you Al?”
Onward to page 5.
Here again was a challenge. Another equation. But it was small, simple letters.
Got it. Where there is a will there is a way Al. Now that I’ve found you I’m going to persevere.
And so Al continued his discourse.
Wow! Who knew? Me and Al.
Until page 6, where a total communication break down occurred.
Sadly, our relationship was over.
With a heavy heart I turned off the light.
I will always remember the hope. And now, to dream.
*The Meaning of Relativity by Albert Einstein with an Introduction by Brian Greene Princeton University Press, New Princeton Science Library Edition, 2014
August, the climax of the year. Trees are lush and heavy. The fruit is ripe. A carefree laziness fills the hours. For a precious few weeks we forget what day it is. Every day is exquisitely the same. Nothing to do but complain about the heat.
But soon enough, that satisfying contentment is shattered by one dreaded sentence; someone you like quite well may utter it, or perhaps a stranger wandering close enough to be heard: “You can feel that nip in the air.”
There it is, in its naked starkness like a sumptuous August tree in January. We all know it but are too prudent to speak the obvious: the heat wave has ended.
Yes, August is passing us by and we are heading into fall. And then the second nail in summer’s coffin: One leaf floats down, drifting from side to side, landing right there.
Today is hot, August still full of promise. I enjoy the luxury of my favourite month in delicious solitude, only every so often allowing in close family and trusted friends.
They know full well there is to be no unmentionable utterances as we bask in the blissful afternoon sun.