Smoothies of transgression

I am running the new smoothie maker in the guest bedroom. Why? It’s furthest from the master bedroom, where The Cop is sleeping. He got home really late this morning. Why? Oh, the Superbowl. And the Phoenix Open. People were misbehaving last night. Scottsdale is the place to party when there are events in the Phoenix area.

Okay, so what’s the deal with people valuing celebrity? I can’t get a bead on this whole thing. When The Cop came home, I asked if he’d arrested Paris Hilton. “No,” he said. I said I was disappointed he hadn’t met her. “Why?!” he asked, horrified. He felt better when I told him I was just kidding.

I can see people doing stupid things in their twenties, but in their thirties? And forties?! Scottsdale has a good number of people with enough disposable income and leisure time to feel that they ought to act like celebrities. Fifty year old guys wearing sunglasses at night. It’s very odd. It must serve some psychological need, but I can’t quite figure out what that need is. To be recognized? To be valued? Whoa, how much more destructive to awakening could this possibly be? I am always impressed with the zen ideal of not leaving a footprint, of not MAKING something of one’s self — not overplaying the whole “self” thing.

And while we’re at it, why is transgression so watered down? It seems like the trend in celebrity behavior (whether real celebrities or poseur celebrities) is transgression. Drive drunk, act diva-ish, whatever. What kind of transgressive behavior is that, people? You want transgression, you go check out Bataille or Sade or Lautreamont. I am tired of this faddish transgression that is about clothes and haircuts and cocktails. Bah!

Rule #1: It’s not transgressive if everyone else is doing it.

***

The smoothie maker is lovely and doesn’t torment me like the oven does. Current fav: soymilk, frozen strawberries, half a banana, half a scoop of vanilla spirulina, and a little flaxseed meal.

***

Hurtie list for today: psoases, slightly pulled pectoralis minor on the right side. I’m okay with both of these, as they are the tight places in backbends. If they are speaking up, I figure we’re on the right track.

Practice was solid, if a little busy in my mind. Work stuff. Last week involved meeting with people and discussing merit raises and bonuses. Some people very happy, some people very unhappy. You can never tell how someone processes the whole money thing. Some people think that if they did 25% better this year (with performance criteria exclusively residing in their own brains), then they should be paid 25% more than last year. Yeah, um, not so much.

Tricky, trying to talk with people about these things. Hard to get to the heart of what they want/expect/value. And each person is so different — I want to motivate people, but I also want to be realistic about how the organization actually values them. Which isn’t to say the organization doesn’t value people — but sometimes folks seem to think they need to be compensated in an exponential manner. There are these deep, probably not even conscious expectations. I don’t want to burst balloons, but I need to help reality check.

***

Oh right, so practice. Very nice. I got on the rack at the end to stretch out my upper back some more. Woohoo!

therack020308.jpg

Here’s a picture of what I hold on to when I stretch on the rack. Yes, I got The Cop to install handles on the baseboard under the ropes he installed on the wall. He is a good man. He doesn’t make fun of me or even ask what I intend to do with all this crazy stuff when I ask for his help.

handles020308.jpg

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5 Responses

  1. Ooooh, you said Bataille, and THEN you said Sade and then you EVEN said Lautreamont, AND you spelled it right. You know just how to make a wanna-be-transgressive Frenchie all warm and melty inside. 😀

  2. that really is sounding like a torture chamber you have there! i must admit, though, that the rack looks delightful!

  3. Transgression!!!!!

  4. Oh, I am a huge fan of French literature! Let’s make a list of delightful Frenchies: Breton, Mallarme, Verlaine, Baudelaire, Apollinaire, Ponge, Char, Flaubert, Colette, Leforgue, Valery, Eluard, Artaud, and all of the nouveau roman writers, particularly Duras.

    And yes, I have a torture chamber of props. Transgressive for an Ashtangi…

  5. I’d bet that The Cop installs all your toys no-questions-asked just because he likes the outcome.

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