Letters To An
Overseas Friend.

I got a store bought haircut a few days ago at my guy. I suspect I get charged more due to the tail, making my haircuts, technically, “long hair” and the extra hassle that that entails. The hairdresser and I have never explicitly discussed why my haircut costs more (by varying amounts) than the $10 advertised on the sandwich board. Clearly, I’ve fallen into the “…AND UP” category.

Over morning snacks and hot beverages, Nadia noticed the new haircut and declared that it looks good. I said I feel good, which probably contributed to me looking good, which made me feel even more good. Now, this presents a problem: wouldn’t this dynamic eventually spiral out of control in what basically amounts to a perpetual good machine? No, because a perpetual good machine is impossible due to the first of the Three Laws Of Goodynamics (pronounced good-DI-nah-miks. good-ee-NAW-mics, while the more popular pronunciation, is actually incorrect. Good dynamics is something else entirely). The Laws are as follows:

RULE 1: Good can neither be created nor destroyed.

RULE 2: The good of an isolated system not in equilibrium will tend to increase over time, approaching a maximum value at equilibrium. OR: Unless intervened, good spreads out; meaning good goes from high good to low good (remember, there's no such "thing" as bad. Bad is just a lack of good).

RULE 3: Not important. Something about approaching zero good.

RULE 0: Turns out there is a RULE 0. But never mind that. See RULE 3

So I conclude to Nadia that all this goodness will check itself and even-out with the amount of good of my surroundings. The model of looking and feeling good still makes sense. We can go back to eating our croissants.

Nadia enjoys this and says I should make a comic about it. First of all, I don’t know how she has it in her head that I have the capabilities or the will to make a comic about anything, but I thank her for thinking that I could. If I spent my time and energy making shareable and semi-useful things out of every random head twitch I feel like playing with, I suspect I would have fewer things to make and I’d curse the amount of effort it takes to make things that are interesting to other people. Sometimes, it’s good to think just to think.

Although, what is the impetus that stimulates ideas being dealt with and made into something? As opposed to those that just disappear into, or, at least, never escape the internal aether of your own head and speech? Vision? Probably vision.

The other day I bought an onion from one of my go to grocers in Chinatown. The intention wasn’t to pick up a lone onion, but after looking over the freshness of the other items on my list, I decided the onion was the only thing that I actually needed that evening.

At the cashier, the onion came to 22 cents. I paid with a quarter. I was given a nickel for change. Remember, we have abolished the penny, so the onion’s cost got rounded down. This seemed unfair to me. Due to a federal currency policy, I had paid only 91% of the cost of the onion. Actually, what it really felt like was that I was given back 1/11 or roughly 10% of my entire bill. Yes, this is all ridiculous and it didn’t take me long to reset myself to the proper perspective. But something instinctual happened, didn’t it? I had automatically picked out the proportional details of the transaction, rather than than looking at the discreet units, which was 2 cents.

Enough onions will get rounded up (say a slightly larger onion costing 23 cents) to even out this effect, too. There is nothing unfair about a 22 cent onion.

Back home now. Didn’t want to write, or draw or do anything, from the road for the same reason I’ve greatly reduced my photographic efforts. Effort documenting takes attention taken away from experiencing*. You know, the dad watching the child’s performance on the tiny screen of his phone which blocks the view of the actual performance?

South Beach, Oregon, is an unincorporated community just south of Newport on the Oregon coast. And unincorporated it is. From the highway you just pass by a few spread out buildings, a lawn mower dealership, storage lockers, a shack that may have something to do with animals. Then we passed by a joint with a loose collection of picnic benches packed with dining people. Beside them was a plywood stand with the world’s largest pot expelling steam. This was a must stop. It seemed most people went for the boil. I went with the crab sandwich, which is now how I assess seafood joints**. A mound of crab meat on wonder bread, a touch of mayo, and some token veggies (although I think the veggies only act to diminish, when I asked to hold the lettuce, the lady told me it is romaine and I’m gonna want that in there. I did. It added a nice crunch. Trust the experts). This was fuss-less seafood. As opposed to the refined stuff I generally see here. Another reminder that there are two different kinds of coasts, I think.

While hopping between rocks looking for tidal pools, I saw a dark whale out in the ocean. A large black blob in the distance which could have been lost in the roil of the breakers if not for its blow. Then you start to discern its tail and other anatomical features. Just hanging out. Good feeding I guess. But also too close to the beach? Is this how they get beached? I’ve seen cetaceans in their natural settings before; dolphins (a pod following alongside a ferry I was on) and killer whales (whilst salmon fishing in the Georgia Straight). While these events were quite entertaining, the dolphins were jumping out of the water possibly in some kind of unison which gave the experience an aquarium like feel, they looked somehow muted or even domestic. As fantastic as our natural harbour is, what I forget is how wild a thing that a coast can be. Watching this dark whale was the most visceral oceanic faunal experience of my life***. Moby Dick means slightly more to me now.


*Although it’s true that drawing or photographing or writing in situ can be an experience by their own right and they can filter an experience in a way that it is an integral part of any overall experience. It’s just that I tend to get distracted by those actions and I suspect I miss things.
**Not that you can get a sense of each item on the menu from a sampling of one item. But if you do a crab sandwich right, does it matter what you do wrong?
***Mostly due to the fact that I haven’t really been out in the open ocean much. I think I would enjoy a cruise.