Rat Holes and Bunny Trails

Behind the home where my parents used to live there was a wood of, oh, maybe 500 acres. It was heavily treed, very rocky, but littered with little open areas called fields. Connecting the fields and lakes and rocky outcrops were these obvious man-made features called paths. These pastoral havens were idyllic getaways in the midst of a city, and many people used them: drug dealers, teenager binge drinkers, young children on hikes, and moi.

When my wife and I were dating, we’d sometimes walk through this wood, during the daytimes of course, when it was safer. It was a getaway for us. Young lovers need getaways.

As we’d walk along the trails, we’d find side trails or splits. Should we continue the main path or head down that side trail? Of course we explored the little paths. Some would lead to nice places and some to not so nice places. Still others would bend back and rejoin the main trail. Usually somewhere along these trails were obvious resting areas, say a circle of logs surrounding a dead fire, a litter of empty beer cans, a few condoms, and a bra. Sometimes we’d find an open rocky area where we could see all around for hundreds of feet. We could even look down on the forested main path, even see the tops of the trees lining it. We could view other explorers while remaining hidden. Still other times these paths would lead to small, open meadows filled with wildflower, sunshine, and wild porcupines. I’ve been chased by more porcupines … We discovered the main path led to a lake, and along the lake was a rocky stage, a larger area of rocks perfect for hosting bonfires, beer bottles, and even lawn chairs under a setting of open sky and power lines.

Bunny trails and rat holes.

Bunny trails are trails breaking off the main paths that don’t lead anywhere meaningful. They are nice sidelines, might present a nice little diversion, but they don’t get you to your destination. Have you ever been to a class at school where you expected a deep lecture, say on the seven networking transport layers, and the professor decided his wife’s sister’s wedding fiasco was much more interesting and important? Light, interesting, fun, but completely off topic. Bunny trail.

Rat holes are dark and dirty dead ends. A former coworker named Peter used this term in meetings. When discussion starting heading into a rhetorical argument, one that couldn’t be solved then and there, he’d say “we’re heading down a rat hole.” Everybody knew what he meant and would stop and nod. Yes, he used the term effectively to keep meetings on track.

In my recent blog about high fat diets and cholesterol, a responder raised a concern about endotoxins. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22210577 Basically when you feed a type 2 diabetic a bunch of fat, they have negative responses. They get filled with inflammation. I don’t dispute the results of this study, but I question whether it’s the final destination, the final say in the matter, or is it a bunny trail or a rat hole.

Inflammation seems to be a commonly accepted cause of disease, especially heart disease; though when you listen to the more knowledgeable talking heads — the Chris Masterjohns of the world — you get the idea that oxidised LDL is the real culprit. Are they related? Perhaps. It’s not for me to decide, but lets say they are. Let’s say inflammation is the culprit.

I think everybody agrees that it’s not the fat in these cases that causes the inflammation. All seem to agree, even the vegans, that it’s the bacterial response in the gut. The bacteria see the consumed fat as foreign and attacks it which produce these nasty endotoxins. Sounds very plausible, and the science seems well thought out and demonstrable. By the way, it’s important that we are able to demonstrate science. It’s great to do a study that A is associated with B, but we have no right saying A causes B unless we can demonstrate it. Too many people say cholesterol causes heart disease because it’s associated with it. Nevermind nobody has ever been able to demonstrate how it happens. It’s associated, so it must be the cause. Such thinkers should be strung up by their ankles and whipped with bacon.

Sorry, I ran down a bunny trail, back on the main path now.

So is this endotoxin story the end of the path? Have we explored the whole wood? Are you ready for you and your partner to do what you came in here to do? Is this the field you will lay the blanket down in, open that bottle of wine you packed, and strip all your clothes off in?

Ask any established high fat eater to get their inflammation tested. I had a H-CRP test last year, and it was 1.0 which is low, not the lowest, but it’s very low and not considered an indication of risk. Other’s I’ve followed have also been low. There may also be other similar tests for inflammation, but I really don’t want to explore that trail at the moment. Let’s assume there are, and that all high fat eaters test negative for inflammation. It’s what we claim. What’s going on?

Herbivores can’t eat meat, and carnivores can’t eat plants, not as primary sources anyway. What’s going on? The answer seems simple. It’s the bacteria. We rely on bacteria to break down our food. There are many types of food breaking down bacteria, but lets divide them up into two groups: carnivore and herbivore. One group is great at breaking down plants and the other group is great at breaking down animals. If you throw animal matter into plant bacteria, you’ll get a negative reaction, whatever that means. If you throw plant matter into animal bacteria, you’ll get a negative reaction.

Humans are omnivores. We have bacteria for both types of food. But it also makes sense that our gut bacteria will adjust to our diet. If we eat all plant food, we’ll nurture plant bacteria. If we eat all animal food, we’ll nurture animal bacteria. The modern, western type 2 diabetic eats mostly a plant diet. Sorry PETA people but they do generally follow the food guidelines which say to limit saturated fats to 7% of the diet. Arguably as much as 93% of the diet is designed to nurture plant bacteria. Now throw a huge meal of animal fat into the pot. What do you expect to happen?

Let’s take another bunny trail. It’s very common to read in HF threads that “I just can’t eat high carb meals, and I can’t eat gluten at all.” Why? “It makes me sick.” It’s true in my experiences. I tried three gluten-based meals this spring and winter. I can’t even remember what the were except for one. For a meal at Valentines Day I ate a dozen sugar cookies. Yup, John splurged big time. And while you could argue that this meal would make anybody feel sick, believe me when I say I felt miserable for three days. I felt like puking but not like puking. My head pounded and my body ached. It took three full days for the symptoms to go away.

I used to eat high carb like I was taught. I never felt this way before. I and others shake our heads in wonder at these experiences. We assumed we were just not in tune with our bodies. The more I think about it and the more I experience reactions — I ate some low carb black bean chocolate cake last night. It tasted fine, but I feel sick today — the more I suspect it’s our gut bacteria at work here.

John’s subjective conclusion: feed a vegan animal food, they will get sick. Feed an animal eater some plant food, they will get sick.

Before I finish, I want to mention that endotoxins ar by no means the only sources of inflammation. Sugars, especially fructose are known to oxidize tissue through glycation, AGEs and RAGEs. But these can also be made through burning meat. And then there’s fat. Did you know that if that bottle of canola oil wasn’t deodorized, you wouldn’t be able to go near it because of the odor? PUFAs are extremely oxidized when you buy them. Why do we refine wheat? We don’t refine it for better taste. We refine it to remove the fat content. Wheat contain PUFAs, and if it is stone ground, it goes bad very quickly. Industry developed grain rollers to remove the natural fats so that wheat wouldn’t go bad. The whiteness was a bi-product.

We do not know where the trail leads, and if you don’t admit that, don’t even bother commenting here. We do not yet understand the mechanisms behind modern diseases, and we need to know. Perhaps both Vegans and Paleos are right. Perhaps it is the mixture that kills, the mixed, balanced diet our governments push on us as healthy.

The Professional Liar

One of my wishes is to someday be able to call myself a writer. I’ll argue I cannot do this until I have something published. I’m working on it. When I do, I plan on printing some business cards. I think it would be cool to go to say a Christmas party and respond to someone who asks me what I do by saying “I’m a Writer” and handing them a business card.

What is a writer? Someone who writes, yes. I also think a writer is a story-teller. Some tell true stories and some tell made up stories. I do some of both. I blog truth, mostly, I interact with countless diabetics where I am completely truthful, and I also write fiction — two novels in progress.

Liars also tell stories. They are storytellers for nefarious or misguided reasons. When I am writing fiction, I am lying to you. I also plan on printing a set of cards that says I’m a “Professional Liar.”

The term Professional Liar is analogous to Professional Fiction Writer. They are not exactly the same, but they are close enough to have fun with. Professional Liar is a metaphor of Fiction writer.

It’s important to understand metaphors. I use them instinctively, but once in a while I sit back and study them, only to fall back into my shoot-from-the-hip delivery methods. *grin*

Sometimes we miss metaphors. Yes, even the smartest out there miss metaphors.

I’m about to present one, but I’m also about to take this post in a new direction. I’m moving away from literary discussion into nutrition discussion.

In nutrition, particularly when we discuss obesity, diabetes, heart disease, and the whole metabolic syndrome fiasco, we want to talk about cause and effect. Not eating enough antioxidants contributes to heart disease. We get fat because we eat too much. Eating less sugar reduces inflammation. We like to talk in cause and effect, not metaphor.

Did you catch the metaphor in the previous sentence? Billions of people miss it every day, including the smartest minds in the world. Even Dr. Oz misses it.

We get fat because we eat too much.

This metaphor throws us off because of its joining word because. Because implies cause, and we believe it. Lets look at some other examples.
– My glass gets full because it fills with water.
– My computer monitor is bright because it emits lots of light.
– My coffee tastes good because I like it with coconut oil and whipping cream.

These are all examples of a type of logical fallacy called Begging the Question. In this type of statement, the premise redefines the proposition: the right side of the word because is a redefinition of the left side. A full glass is one that fills with water; A bright monitor is one that emits a lot of light; and coffee with coconut oil and whipping cream taste good, I like it. The right side doesn’t explain the left side, it doesn’t explain the word because, it merely redefines it.

In these examples replacing the word because with is changes them from arguments to metaphors.

Someone who gets fat is someone who eats too much. Doesn’t this make much more sense? Tell me please, where is the cause in the original sentence.

I hope you’ve read this far. These are important ideas in both literature and science. I hope it helps your writing like I hope it helps mine.

The real question here is “why do we get fat?” or “why do we eat too much?” It is an important question. I’ll leave you with a couple of videos to watch, one serious and one not.

Science (this logical fallacy explained): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KH9079LV4tY

Humor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MlCQ664cvnk

Won’t That High Fat Diet Raise Your Cholesterol?

Tags

carbohydrates, cholesterol, fat, lipids friedwald

I’ll try to stay focused today. I need to write some serious fiction tonight.

Background:

I
– am a type 1 diabetic in my 37th year of battle.
– am 51 years old.
– ‘ve worn an insulin pump since 2006
– have battled diabetic proliferative retinopathy since 1994
– have received 4,000 plus lasers that kill the peripheral regions of my eyes
– experienced major bleeds in 2006 resulting in blindness and surgery (vitrectomy)
– suffered subsequent bleeds for two years
– decided I needed to risk a major change, so I tried a high fat low carb style of eating in 2008
– have been 911’d nine times while sleeping
– have experienced over 100 major hypoglycemic events [I’m thick headed]
– I’ve fought HBP at 145/80

Current Status:

I’m still at it and doing very well. I now run an A1C hovering 6%, my optho hasn’t seen any signs of damage since I started this way of eating, I’m down 20 pounds, I have much more energy, and I feel great, my BP is normal now with no meds.

I now have hope I’ll live until my senior years and actually be able to enjoy some of them.

Cholesterol:

But this post isn’t about all of these changes. This diet I follow centers around animals as food, and not just the red, stringy muscle but the fat too. In fact, the more fat the better. My breakfast is usually a cup of two of coffee with coconut oil (a saturated fat) and heavy whipping cream, no sugah. My dinner tonight was a package of bologna, some cheddar cheese, and some raw pineapple. My lunch was a bag of garden kale.

I eat the diet everybody says is supposed to kill me. Well, that’s what they say. The curious part, though, is when you ask them to explain it, they backtrack a bit:

“We know that cholesterol causes heart disease, and your diet raises cholesterol.”

“But have you studied whether this diet really results in heart disease? I mean, that’s one big assumption you’re making here.”

Silence.

The standard response to this question is silence. Everybody believes so much in it that they feel there’s no need to support it to us radicals. The world is simply better off if we continued our suicidal paths — an estimated 10 million people worldwide have bought in to this plan.

The truth seems to be there’s no scientific evidence to support this belief that consuming fat and cholesterol kill. I could throw study after study after study at you, but honestly, I can’t even find a hint of science that supports it. Well, there is some.  I’ve pretty much convinced myself after my own reviews of the evidence, and I do ask supporters of the lipid hypothesis for their evidence, that this hypothesis actually has no sound basis. So far, nothing.

I’ll throw one little meta analysis at you. Dr. Ronald Krause has shown that there is in fact no association between saturated fat intake and heart disease. These are the studies this lipid hypothesis is based on, and they don’t even link to heart disease.

So back to cholesterol. Do I really care if fat makes my cholesterol rise if it doesn’t cause heart disease? Does fat even raise choelsterol? Studies used to arrive at this conclusion have also been debated, but I won’t get into those. Let’s assume studies show it’s true. I’m more curious about what it does to me. My records below go back four years, and when I started keeping track, I was taking a statin. This magic pill was supposed to produce magical cholesterol values, numbers I’d be able to write mom about if she were still alive. Numbers my endocrinologist was very happy with. Note that yellows are not on target — their targets. My ratios have all been optimal: they couldn’t get any better, yet he wanted me back on a statin because my LDL was not where a diabetic’s should be, never mind lowering it risks many things such as mental degradation and muscle [including the heart] damage.

Summary of targets: HDL should be high, LDL should be low, and Triglycerides (TG) should be below 150.

Debate: The low carb community wants TGs below 0.8 which indicates LDL particle size is large and fluffy and benign, the only measurement that really matters. I tend to agree. Low TGs will naturally increase LDL because of size increase: The Friedwald is a volume measurement, and particle size increases volume. As a test, throw ten grains of sand in a full glass of water. Then set ten larger pebbles or stones in it. That’s basically how the Friedwald test works to measure cholesterol.

So please, explain how my lipid profile has evolved into something that looks like I made it up it looks so good? I found a comment that said the highest HDL value ever seen was 117, and mine’s 112. Explain how this diet that is supposed to kill me does that? And now my LDL is lower than when I was on a statin. I’ll repeat that. My LDL, the value my doctor gets all worked up about, is as low as it was while I took his statin. Am I a freak of nature? Hopefully at a future appointment I’ll ask for my pre-2008 values. I’d really like to see what my numbers were before all this hoopla.

The bottom line: saturated fat is supposed to be deadly because it messes up cholesterol numbers. Right. You run with that people.

Chol History

Cardiovascular Risk:

John is a type 1 so falls into the high risk category. His LDL-C should be below 70 and his Non-HDL-C should be below 100.
http://www.mayomedicallaboratories.com/articles/communique/2011/11.html

	Goal (mg/dL)
Risk category	LDL-C	Non-HDL-C
Very high riska	<100 (optional <70)	<130 (optional <100)
High risk: CHDb or CHD risk equivalentc	<100	<300
Moderately high risk: ≥2 risk factorsd (10-y risk, 10% to 20%)	<130 (optional <100)	160 (optional <130)
Moderate risk: ≥2 risk factorsd (10-y risk <10%)	130	160
Lower risk	160	190

 

One Meal A Day

Tags

butter, coconut oil, editing, firewood, fried, novel, olive oil, onions, weiners, Writing

I tried something new yesterday. I ate only one meal.

I didn’t eat only once, though. I drank two coffees during the day and each contained both whipping cream and coconut oil, significant calories. I had another around 7PM as I sat down to write, and I ate a later snack of raw pineapple and a hunk of cheese.

When I got home around 5PM I felt empty but not famished. Thunder storms threatened, and it’s raining today. I still has some wood to stack, and I wanted to try exercising after a fat-fast — eating just fat, a lesser amount of calories than needed, is called a fat-fast. I wanted to know if I would be able to exercise as well, not that I exercise well, to determine if I was feeding my body sufficiently while exercising. If I wasn’t, I’d expect to feel tired or needing to rest, and I’d expect to feel intense hunger. I never thought about food once, and I never felt the least bit lethargic. I stacked the last hundred or so pieces, covered both rows with tarps, and even walked to my garden and picked some fresh kale.

I then cooked my only meal of the day: four wieners fried with a large Spanish onion in a combination of butter, coconut oil, olive oil, and sunflower oil. I washed it down with water.

My writing later went well. I updated chapter one. I refered to my red-marked manuscript, and went through every note. I also re-read it. I expanded on many sections and re-wrote a few paragraphs. I felt good writing. The basis felt good, and the expanded prose seemed to really add completeness. I felt really comfortable with my writing and my story. I don’t think it was my eating pattern.

Today I’m making lunch my one meal: Maple Leaf Bologna!

Assessment of my working vacation

Tags

learning, vacation, Writing

The easy answer is you cannot mix work and vacation. It’s like mixing oil with vinegar and expecting a smooth, consistent salad dressing.

No, I did not write eight hours a day. I spent most of those eight hours emptying my mind of sludge. I did write most days, though, and I learned a few things.

Writing is creative, and while sitting down daily to plough through pages and pages of prose may seem a reasonable objective, there are a few things one needs in place for it to happen:
1. Knowledge of how to write
2. A good workplace
3. A solid story/subject
4. Support

Of course we are all learning how to write, even the most established and esteemed writers are very good at writing badly. There are no exceptions, and I don’t expect to be exempted. I found myself sitting down, finding my location, and hitting a wall. I’d become frustrated and try to shake it by making coffee, working my garden, or playing online poker. I’m now worth over 6.5 million in Zynga poker if that means anything.

The wall wasn’t so much desire as a lack of vision. I knew my story, but I didn’t know how to make the words right. If I was arguing nutrition or diabetes care, I’d have whipped out thousands of pages no problem, but I wasn’t arguing. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I thought a lot about what I didn’t know.

Here are some snippets of my thoughts: I create images; I create tension; I create wonder; I create empathy; I create story; and I create vision. Sitting down to write words to a quantity objective is pointless. My objectives are not easily quantifiable; they are only assessable by readers viewing my world from afar. My best writing came when I became immersed in my world but also maintained some grasp of my objectives, when I continually examined my own reactions and responded to them. There is a mechanical, technical aspect here, a route to the creative posture that I need to be able to find. This vacation helped me identify the need, the place, and somewhat of a path to it. Still working on this. I may do something almost heretical: I may draft a mental checklist to follow before I write. How ironic would that be?

I also spent some time reading James Wood’s “How Fiction Works.” It’s a wonderful piece of work that creates a clear picture of writing chaos: it’s a damned frustrating read because he doesn’t say anything while saying so much. Yes James, a simple, straightforward description of the scene is tedious and necessary, and yes I think I get your main point: show, don’t tell. Ah, write those boring, dull, drab, mundane descriptions but make them exciting and enriching. You left out one small detail: how?

The rest is all extraneous yet crucial to writing efficiently. We’ve recently installed new floors, still have trim to do, and many of our doors are off or need refitting. My garden has grown weeds very, very well this year, and our clothesline broke yesterday. These are writing distractions. I need to clean up my [new] room, lock the door so my wife cannot pour more junk in it, and kill three cats. I also need to make her understand that at six o’clock in the morning, I don’t want to hear the kitchen radio blasting and her stomping around cleaning last night’s dishes, not while I’m writing. I don’t want any interruptions. I don’t want to be asked if I want boiled eggs. And frankly, I am not able to help pick out paint colors, install new shelves, or safely move a couch while my mind is in a creative mode. Forcing these issues only makes it worse. It kills the whole mood. Hold it awhile dear. I’ll accommodate you after I talk with my mother about our trip there tomorrow. Nothing like killing a mood!

Yes I have a story, a subject, but it has gaps. All stories have gaps while we write them. That’s why writing is so difficult. Not only do I have to get the words right, but I have to build the story right, and there are many ways to skin this cat too. I needed to think about my story. Brawn tightened it up and narrowed it, made it one dimensional. I needed to discover the three dimensional words and ideas. I needed to get away from it, free my mind, and ask some proper questions: why, what’s the point, where’s the tension, empathy, and depth? I asked Stephen King’s question: “what if?” I asked who my protagonists really were, whether certain events fit properly, was I too god-like, and I asked how to get my story back on the road and out of the ditch. You can’t do these things while writing, at least I can’t.

I’m currently still reading and marking up. I am finding my reading voice, and I’m asking reader questions nearly every paragraph.

I think I grew as a writer over these past three weeks. I feel refreshed and ready to work. I think I’ll write tonight.

End Of Vacation

Tags

editing, novel, red pen, summary, vacation

Back from six days away.

We dropped the boy off a church camp. Apparently he wowed everybody with his preaching. I’m afraid he’s the next Billy Graham. Sigh. Seriously, though, he has a great speaking voice — from his mother — is very passionate about his faith, and is very serious about his faith.

Sounds like what a writer needs: voice, passion, and faith.

We saw the outlaws and my dad at different towns. I drank too much beer and rum and wine. Yeah. I didn’t get enough good coffee — boo. And I read and smeared some 125 pages of my novel.

I printed the tome off before I left, the first edit stuff. I’ve gone through 320 pages and am a quarter way through. I wanted to accomplish a couple of things while away. I wanted to prove that
1. My story was worth pursuing
2. I’d achieved some sort of consistency in voice and form
3. Dredge up edit number two issues — the micro-editing.

I read these 125 pages worth while driving, sitting alone at night with too much beer in me, or early mornings at a coffee shop. I really didn’t spend that much time at it, maybe four or five hours. But I enjoyed what I read. I really did. I felt it was a logical story with no major gaps and very little unnecessary bits. I think there were some, but I couldn’t nail them down.

I red-penned practically every page and paragraph, not so much the first 30 pages as I’ve been through those already many times, but much of the rest is pretty marked up. This surprised me somewhat; since I’ve been through it a lot already, but it shouldn’t be a big revelation. I’ve always tended to assume a lot in my writing.

Here’s a little example. It’s the first line of a scene.

We arrived without fanfare.

The previous scenes(s) clearly indicate where this destination is, but someone reading this for the first time wouldn’t know. They’d have to go back and review, maybe, not that my readers will ever stop. They will all read from cover to cover without stopping. The real question that hit me was “what the hell do you mean by fanfare?” Is this a brass band, fireworks, or some medieval heraldry exhibition? Fanfare is a summary word. Isn’t this an opportunity to paint a deep, three dimensional image of what just happened?

We drove off the ferry in North Sydney at 9AM sharp. There were no town criers reading proclamations of our arrival, no trumpets lining a path through an adoring crowd, and no fireworks. I didn’t expect a great reception, but there we were, my first time gracing the mainland with our presence, and nobody even batted an eye. We drove through a piloned lane that led us right to the highway. They wanted us off the boat and out of the parking lot as fast as we could leave, so they could prepare the return voyage.

This is kind of cheesy, but it gives you an idea of what’s going through my head. I’m trying to turn a lot of these summary statements into something more meaningful and readable, something a little more engaging.

So now I have a section in edit phase 1 — which by the way I also mulled over — and a section on phase 2. I’m back to work on Monday, and we have renovations to finish and a garden to tend — yes we still have a garden up here, and it is dry.

I feel I’ve made progress, and I feel I’m just about ready to move a little faster.

Straight Lines

Tags

humanity, nature, reset

Humans are frail creatures. Their expanded consciousness on one hand is a great advantage. Instead of following their prey, they can make a mental note of the target’s routine and set up an ambush. They have the means to devise bigger teeth and stronger muscles out of available resources, and if that’s not big enough or strong enough, then can craft even more impressive implements of destruction out of more abstract resources.

Humans’ prowess goes beyond hunting efficiency. When an animal tires of its routine, it sleeps, fights, or plays. Humans can devise their own amusements, this blog for example. It’s what we claim sets us off from the natural world. We are the straight line in Mother Nature’s garden.

Yet our frailties are also enhanced. Lions don’t lie about and worry about their offspring, whether it will rain tomorrow, what the Lion King said in his annual speech from the rock, or who will win the World Series this year. They don’t worry at all. They live and they die.

Humans know they live on a fixed timeline. They can’t see the end, but they know it’s there. They don’t want it to come early. They want to stretch out every last inch of line drawing. A human will do almost anything to keep his or her line extending forward. A human will try to break the rules, will try to disassociate from Mother Nature and define his or her own set of rules. They will go so far as to deny their humanity.

We see evidence of this behavior in our health care practices; after all, health care is where we are able to extend our timelines as we’ve grown as a species, or perhaps civilization is the more correct word. We are too advanced or too holy to be called a species. As we’ve grown to dominate the natural world, we’ve extended our timelines and expanded their signatures. Our impact on the world as individuals and as a civilization has grown in length and depth. We are living longer and our quality of life has improved.

Yet our denial of our place in the natural order has its consequences; it has to. Natural laws were not made to be broken. Maybe we can postpone our date with the Devil, but we cannot excuse ourselves from the meeting. We cannot deny our existence.

Should we move back to our natural ways? Should we no longer treat natural infections and diseases? Should we not treat manmade diseases? 16% of American GDP is spent on healthcare, and it’s all about making our lifelines longer and wider. We fret over e-coli infections, drowning, leaving babies in hot cars, and not wearing seatbelts. Are these good precautions or should we let Darwin run the show? Should type 1 diabetics like me not be treated at all, left to die so that I don’t breed and pollute others’ lifelines?

I don’t know where or when the reset will happen, that moment of truth when Mother Nature decides it’s time for her truant child to come back to the fold. Perhaps it will never happen. Many I talk to believe we are on a divine journey of dominance, and we will find a way like we always have. We will find new, endless sources of oil, global warming is bad science – it’s the natural variability of this wobbly planet, and all disease will be conquered, eventually. Isn’t it ironic how on one hand people can deny nature and on the other convict it of existence?

Another new fol…

Tags

editing, panretinal-photocoagulation, retinopathy, want to be, Writing

Another new follower. This time it’s a “literary person, ” someone who “likes to photograph,” and someone who “thinks.” This person reminds me of me or someone I want to be. I want to be known as a literary person. I have taken a lot of photographs — my flickr page has some 45,000 images or so, and I love to read. I feel woefully unqualified for the job, though.

I  am not a trained writer. I tell myself that’s good; because I’m not constrained by what teachers and authors of literary manuals say what a writer should be, how a writer should write. I know a lot of these ideas. How many of you understand free indirect voice or know what a Hemingway comma is? [it’s more the absence of a comma] I am not the most read reader, and I have excuses. My mind wanders into all areas of life from business to technology to politics to psychology to metaphysics to religion to sciences to diabetes self management to chess. I have solid knowledge of many areas but am master of none. I also can’t read like I used to. Not only do I need these annoying reading glasses, but my diabetic retinopathy has taken a toll. It’s doubly hard or worse for me to read a line of writing. And when you see my spelling mistakes, I often just don’t pick up on them with my failing vision, even with spell checkers.

But I have creativity to spare. I have drafted about three hundred alternate universes, and my latest end of civilization story involves a fossil fuel eating micro-organism — think about that one!

Part of my creativity comes from my eye condition. I’ve lasted through a “10% you’ll go blind in five years” told to me 18 years ago to major bleeding inside my eye to major surgery to clean it out and patch it. The backs of my eyes look like the worst imaginable computer game battle zone.

Eye After Panretinal-photocoagulation Laser

The result is I know I’m living on the edge of disaster: I could go blind in one or both eyes in a heartbeat. It has changed my attitude. Basically I just don’t care any more about negatives. I don’t care what people think, I don’t care what obstacles are in my way, and often I don’t care if there’s risks. Two years ago I said I was going to write fiction, and I did. I still am. I plan on continuing. If you don’t like it; I don’t care. Seriously, I don’t. I will of course listen to what you think and try to improve, but I have no more spare cards to draw from the deck. I’m moving forward whether I like it or not.

I’ve written some very powerful prose this week. It’s been tough. I’ve been taking my already written scenes, scrapping ninety percent of them, re-writing them, feeling awful about how badly I wrote, thought long and slowly about what I really wanted out of the scene, then re-wrote it again with showing words. And tehn I edited them three more times.

“How did that go John?”

“Just swimmingly.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“I learned my inner voice is buried deep, and I need to dig down and find it.”

“But you’ve found him?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know it.”

“Huh?”

This is what poverty looks like.

Tags

poetry, poverty

Poetry Asides Wednesday Prompt

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “This Is What (Blank) Looks Like,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Example titles might be: “This Is What Awesome Looks Like,” “This Is What a Poem Looks Like,” or “This Is What Love Looks Like.”

Untucked shirt, a chainmail design of small argyles connected by stains,
Coffee, Pepsi on sale three for five dollars, or watered down rum.
Leather shoes browner than dirt, useless in the heavy summer rains,
Dangerous in the icy winter with their slick bottoms and frayed laces.
Jeans no longer drag the rocks of broken pavement, worn
To snag the wayward roots and warped lumber,
Known obstacles in the overgrown path between crumbling, downtown ruins.
The baseball hat handed out by a roofing contractor at a trade show,
An arena with free coffee, big smiles, and warmth.
It fits, hides the matted mess of hair, hides some of the dirt.
A belt is not part of the package. They took it
At the drunk tank, and didn’t replace it.
Running a tongue between two teeth where a third and a fourth
Were lost to fists belong to different men and different discussions,
Produced the only taste of food on this day.
Hands in pockets rattle washers found when the landlord built a fence
And failed to guard at break, the fasteners nobody need steal at seventeen cents a piece.
Illusions for others, cunning trickery to emulate the sound
Of pockets full of money.
Proof of willpower to not spend every last penny
On cigarettes and booze.
Two butts in the road, next to the curb,
Picked up, brushed off, and pocketed
In the one holeless pouch.
A driver recognizes the shuffle and honks.
A hand waves back in automatic grasping.
The walker searches for freedom, liberation from labours,
An empty quiet on and empty street.

Reading Today

Tags

editing, reading, restaurant, Writing

I am a member of a small, informal writing group. They are mostly older women, but there’s another guy. Today there were six of us gathered at a local restaurant for our monthly breakfast and sharing session.

This is not a formal, sanctioned group. It’s not sponsored by any writer’s federation, there are no fees, and no membership cards. We do it because we love writing and we believe sharing our writing and receiving feedback is important. I enjoy reading my work out loud. It’s scary, but I enjoy it. The reading comes to life that way. I hear its flow and meanings. I can hear if it works or not. Others can as well.

Today I read probably the most outlandish scene from my novel. It’s set on Parliament Hill in Ottawa during Canada Day celebrations. It was a long scene at 3600 words, and it was rather detailed. I ran through a number of descriptions and events to set up my “confrontation.” As my encounter began, one of the six women caught on and began laughing. I said darn, it’s too obvious. Only she laughed as it proceeded for its two pages, and she did laugh harder at each dialogue moment. I thought the others must have known and didn’t like it.

Fortunately for me, the others did like it; they just didn’t catch on to my ruse. Good, I thought, but they were so straight-faced afterwards.

I determined right away that it’s a scene you probably need to read twice if you didn’t get the ruse. I’m not sure I like this. I think it may detract from the story. I’m wondering if I have to bring it even more over the top

Naw. I say let the readers kick themselves for not getting the already obvious. Let them praise John for hiding the obvious so well.

It’s 64% edited and still plugging away. I’m now hitting the prose I wrote after NaNoWriMo, so I hope the writing I need to edit improves. I’m hoping I can get a lot more edited this week.

Canada Day