pool,
originally uploaded by kylekimberlin.

Well that was a day, wasn’t it? I’d like to say I made it through Monday without causing pain or drawing innocent blood, but I can’t. There was a little bleeding when I gave Tasha her sub-q fluids this morning. I’m told this is normal, but Lord have mercy. [Sigh]

I went swimming again today, and it was just as nice as Saturday. I was very happy to swim around, watching the birds on the wires overhead, listening to the little sounds of them and of the water. Saw my comb go floating by and set it out of the pool. Must’ve left it in my pocket. Thought it might be cool to have my shades on – the light was strong – but I figured they would sink and the chlorine might be bad for them. I was right, they don’t float, because later I saw them on the bottom by the drain. They must’ve been in the pockets too. I’m such a funny guy.

Sometime during the late morning or early afternoon, a string of words went through my mind, which my mind identified as the first line of the story I would write tonight. What was it? Did I transmit it to you psychically before it disappeared forever into the chaos? A little help?

I don’t get much done, you know. Not much really accomplished. But I’m making a tape from a CD that I burned a little while ago, from MP3s on my computer. Why go from MP3 to tape? Because that’s what I’ve got in the pickup truck, y’all. Hey, it’s gets me from here to there, and God help me that nobody gets hurt.

-Northrop Frye, writer
(1912-1991)

box of dry stuff,
originally uploaded by kylekimberlin.

Today was a strange and special day, because I did something completely different. See, a while back I woke up one day and looked at myself and said, “nothing is going to change until something changes.” So I’ve been trying to do different things, to see if doing them makes something different happen in my life. So …

Today I went swimming. I hadn’t been swimming, which I used to love so much, in about twenty years. It’s pretty amazing how fast twenty years can go by, and how dried out a person can get and still survive. I was feeling like a box of dry leaves.

We have a swimming pool at the condos where I live, but … naw. It’s very public, not good for the self-conscious, and on a Summer day it’s a chlorinated toilet for about a hundred kids. I went and asked some long time family friends – who have a lovely backyard pool — and they’re letting me use it. Very kind people.

It was a little sketchy for a moment. First, I stood on the top step in the shallow end, and realized my cell phone was in the pocket of my trunks. What a doofus. The water was perfect, cold on a warm day. Our friends don’t heat their pool, but it was great. I moved down a step, and another, getting used to the water, then aimed for the far side and went for it.

There was a mild sense of panic for a second or three, while my body got used to the concept of submersion in water. Even at my Baptism in 1991, I wasn’t submerged completely. We forgot to account for the displacement of water in the font, which is like a big silver garbage can, placed in the center of the church. I could only go down so far into it, and the water came up, and was then poured over the upper parts of me that didn’t fit. I made a mess in the church, but it survived.

It was wonderful today. In just a minute or two I was used to the beautiful cold, and my limbs remembered how to tread water. Then for 30 minutes, my cumbersome, overweight body was buoyant and moving through space without impact and the cruel claims of gravity. I had the place to myself, and just kept moving – the whole point is exercise you see – and looking at the trees and flowers, listening to the hum of the filter.

After half an hour, I made myself get out. Didn’t want to overdo it the first day. And the difference getting out was almost as amazing as getting in. Let’s just say I became acutely aware of mass in spacetime. Gravity sucks. But they say I can use their pool whenever I want, and I do.

I’m all about consolations amidst the trials and pains of life, over here.

“Beware the leader who bangs the drum of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor. For patriotism is indeed a double-edged sword. It both emboldens the blood, just as it narrows the mind.”

Oh, this is getting funnier and funnier, in a sick Slop Jockey Man sort of way.

“On Thursday, Senate Democratic leader Harry Reid of Nevada pressed for legislation to strip Rove of his clearance for classified information, which he said President Bush should have done already. Instead, Reid said, the Bush administration has attacked its critics: ‘This is what is known as a cover-up. This is an abuse of power.’ “

[Rove Testifies to Grand Jury]:

This poem seems to go along with my sudden discovery of gray hair. In 1995, a friend of mine passed away at the age of 30, which spawned a series of poems on my own mortality. It’s been ten years since I wrote this, and the matter is closer but no clearer than it was then. Except that I’m no longer so sure about the last line. Your thoughts are appreciated.

NEW SONGS

Someday, I will suddenly die.

It won’t be fatal, but

something different will become of me then. 

I will have a new suit.

It’s so hard to believe. 

Death happens to everybody else.

Lots of things happen to other people,

but they never happen to me.

I’ve never had the mumps, been

in the hospital, or broken a bone.

I’ve never been drafted, jailed,

or ridden in a big balloon.

I’ve never been shot at or even robbed

but I have been to some big cities.

I have never caught a touchdown pass,

been to Greece or the Grand Canyon.

I’ve never ridden an elephant

or seen a wild polar bear. 

My car has broken down, but I

have never walked too far.

One night, I got so drunk, that I

stumbled on the railroad tracks. 

There was a train coming, but my friend

helped me up in time.

Then he got leukemia and died.

So with Death, maybe Kyle is not immune. 

I will have to learn new songs

to sing

along the way.

I will have to go alone.

© 1995 Kyle Kimberlin
all rights reserved

-Robert Lynd, writer (1879-1949)

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Tasha Writing,
originally uploaded by kylekimberlin.

OK, that’s enough of the political stuff for one night. Yesterday, I took Tasha up to Toro Canyon, a remote park in the foothills behind town. It was a beautiful, warm afternoon, in a canyon sheltered from cell phone signals and ocean air.

Tasha got to wander a while. I don’t let her off leash – too many chances for a misstep and injury. But I let her walk around with the leash totally limp, trying not to let her feel any pull from it. She checked out lots of smells, and got back in her camper to do some writing.

There are too many leaks of classified information in Washington. If there’s leaks out of my administration, I want to know who it is, and if the person has violated the law, the person will be taken care of.

 

In the mood for a little fun reading? Check out the transcript of today’s Press Briefing by Scott McClellan at the White house. A few of the reporters eat his lunch for him, for flatly refusing to talk about Karl Rove. It’s amazing. As a friend said to me this evening, it’s very reminiscent of the Nixon scandal era.