Everything is going my way these days, and I am finally at the competition of my dreams. This time, however, my partner is on stage, showing off his stuff, while I am in the audience, shouting encouragement. ‘Work it baby! You’ve got this!’ All that dieting, shaving, and shining is about to pay off, here, at the ‘Arnold Classic World’s Most Beautiful Balls Contest.’ Continue reading
As I step outside into the light, the sun’s rays trigger an intense physical memory. It is the summer of 2010, and I am on a warmly fragrant train headed toward Montpellier. Exhausted after touring the medieval fortress in Carcassonne, I slump into a rare empty seat, noticing that my partner, across the aisle and four rows ahead of me, has already fallen asleep. Smiling, I listen for the familiar sound of his snoring, but am distracted by the scent of wet dog mixed with unwashed scalp. A roughly dressed tattooed man and his placid canine have paused in the aisle beside me, evading the ticket-punching conductor. When the train unexpectedly comes to a complete stop, I turn to look out the window. Instead of a station, my eyes perceive a glowing expanse of French countryside filled with grape vines and poppies. To my amazement, two white horses suddenly cross the tracks a few feet from my car. I inhale sharply and hold my breath, as if my movements could startle them. Unperturbed by either the train or its contents, the wild, magnificent creatures toss their manes and slowly trot away. Over the intercom, a male voice hesitates as it apologetically explains that a delay has been ’caused by … horses.’ I now use this excuse whenever I am late for meetings. At the time, however, this unforgettable experience was imprinted on my body. Its sensory overload can be summoned by any number of smells and sounds. That is why, when I remembered les chevaux again last week, I knew that I was finally getting my body back. Continue reading
A few days ago PDDs and I were doing a killer legs workout at the gym. After my third set of smith machine sissy squats, I wiped the sweat from my brow, tried to catch my breath, and said ‘I am so done.’ ‘Oh no,’ said the energetic PDDs, ‘I will pursue my dream of defined quads with yet another 15.’ Before she could start, however, an unknown fit man wearing baggy shorts and a basketball jersey intervened to offer advice: ‘The next time you are at M and M meats,’ he intoned, ‘I suggest that you try the apple pie.’ Continue reading
With tousled hair and smudged glasses, my friend Avocado Roll [AR] drives me to Pearson International Airport. Despite the ungodly hour, she entertains me by recounting her latest anxiety dream. It begins conventionally enough; while at work, AR suddenly realizes that she has forgotten to wear pants. [Aside to British readers: please replace the word pants with trousers and stop laughing your ‘fannies’ off]. Heading to the mall to cover her shame, AR finds that she has no money. ‘Ah,’ I sagely interject, ‘you resent a job that is at once beneath your intellectual capacity and yet necessary to fund basic needs.’ ‘No wait,’ she says, ‘here is where it gets interesting.’ At this point, Barbara Bush appears, agreeing to take AR shopping while sternly noting that she will provide a mere $20 for the new clothes. We laugh together in a familiar way that I will soon miss. ‘Do you long for maternal care?’ I inquire. ‘I think not,’ she chortles, Continue reading
I am up early on a Sunday morning, enjoying the cool breeze that grazes my skin as I water the balcony plants. The air is scented with smoke, likely from a British Columbia forest fire. I go inside to mince fresh coconut and corriander, preparing a Kenyan chutney for dinner. While chopping the green chilis, I think about the book I read the day before, musing aloud: ‘I must have an extra large reptilian brain.’ According to neuroscientist Paul D. MacLean, the human brain is composed of three evolutionary layers: the earliest reptilian core is devoted to sensation as well as survival; the limbic or paleomammalian brain that developed next is concerned with ‘higher’ functions, allowing for emotion, memory, and learning; and the most advanced layer, the neocortex, is what distinguishes human beings and other select primates from ‘lower’ entities, enabling self-awareness and cognition. Although I like the psychedelic diagram of what is called the ‘Triune Brain’ pasted below—it is suitably 1960s, the era when MacLean first proposed his theories—I imagine that my sensory-overload mind looks more like the large-yolked scotch egg on the right, complete with its deep fried sausage casing. After all, I am a Scotch McEgghead.
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