The Erudite Athlete

I enjoy the moment when the outside turns blue and the inside turns orange. When you stand outside looking in, you can't help but feel you're in the coldest place possible. By comparison.

Tonight our walk took us to Oak Park and over the freeway. Last night we climbed the hill up up up to Crestline and down again. It was steep, forcing me to employ a time honored breathing technique passed down from father to daughter for generations which I will now share with you: hee-hee-whooo, hee-hee-whooo. Repeat until nausea totally overwhelms.

I submitted a ten-minute play out into the wide world. I don't expect to hear anything for several months. But I re-wrote the least funny lines and this is an accomplishment for lazy, unmotivated Christy.

In the last entry I mentioned a writer, Christopher Moore. I just read a passage in the book about Santa Barbara and the photography school here where a character drops out -- which is like, so me, having dropped out of said school. It's wild to read about yourself and your living situation in a random book. I probably should have suspected it sooner since the book is signed by the author and a big fat white renewal card is taped over it. Somewhere in the cold, blue evening, there's a hypocrite named Shelley, who exchanges signed books for karma. Or maybe she's dead and the estate donated her book to the local public library. 'Tis a myst'ry.

My favorite prolific teen horror writer, who goes by the pen name Christopher Pike, also lives in Santa Barbara -- according to "The Blind Mirror" book jacket. I have most of his books, including "The Tachyon Web," which took me years to find. Before the Internet took hold, the search involved a lot of actual physical searching involving thrift stores and out-of-print catalogues.

Then there's my prize, "Inventorum Natura." It's a fascinating picture book written by Pliny the Elder and illustrated by Una Woodruff. "Inventorum Natura" holds no connection to Santa Barbara. I'm mentioning it because I spent years tracking it, listening to store clerks tell me it never existed, waiting for the day when the internet might bring us together. And then it did. I love you internet.

By the way, I'm really digging "Practical Demonkeeping." It reminds me of a supernatural Tom Robbins.