Category Archives: nature

On a wasp sting

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Yes, I got stung on Saturday morning by a wasp–some sort of paper wasp, I think. Nailed me right in the leg. The pain is also accompanied by a burning sensation that reminds one that wasps are dangerous. Now, I’m rather fortunate in that I am not particularly allergic to bee and wasp stings, but others might not be so lucky. The little devils just love to build their little paper constructions in the most annoying places, such as under my back patio table. They are both persistent and fast, and before I knew it, I was stung and running for my life. You see, wasps, unlike bees, can sting you multiple times because their stingers are smooth, and it does matter how many times they sting you. A single sting for me is more of an annoyance than anything else, but I did take an antihistamine and put hydrocortisone on the sting sight. It hurt for awhile, no question. The question of cohabitating with these dangerous insects, even though they pollinate to a certain extent, is highly problematic because I won’t do it. I got out my can of wasp spray and killed the little interlopers–end of story. I don’t understand their role in the world, they are dangerous, and they build their nests in inappropriate places which pose a real danger to all–people, pets, and other animals. This was not my first tangle with wasps, nor will it be my last, I’m afraid. The whole experience was extremely distastful because I hate killing things.

On a wasp sting

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Yes, I got stung on Saturday morning by a wasp–some sort of paper wasp, I think. Nailed me right in the leg. The pain is also accompanied by a burning sensation that reminds one that wasps are dangerous. Now, I’m rather fortunate in that I am not particularly allergic to bee and wasp stings, but others might not be so lucky. The little devils just love to build their little paper constructions in the most annoying places, such as under my back patio table. They are both persistent and fast, and before I knew it, I was stung and running for my life. You see, wasps, unlike bees, can sting you multiple times because their stingers are smooth, and it does matter how many times they sting you. A single sting for me is more of an annoyance than anything else, but I did take an antihistamine and put hydrocortisone on the sting sight. It hurt for awhile, no question. The question of cohabitating with these dangerous insects, even though they pollinate to a certain extent, is highly problematic because I won’t do it. I got out my can of wasp spray and killed the little interlopers–end of story. I don’t understand their role in the world, they are dangerous, and they build their nests in inappropriate places which pose a real danger to all–people, pets, and other animals. This was not my first tangle with wasps, nor will it be my last, I’m afraid. The whole experience was extremely distastful because I hate killing things.

On steak

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“Are we having steak for dinner tonight?” The answer was “yes.” Sometimes I eat steak with a little salt and pepper, and I’m unapologetic about that–no ketchup though, then I would be apologetic. Sometimes I don’t eat steak, but I do hate tofu and can’t figure why anyone would eat it on purpose. The texture is otherworldly and the taste is disappointing, to say the least–it tastes like something dead. On the other hand, there is something which is creepily primitive,but totally satisfying, about eating the flesh of other animals. I think this may be one of my blind-spots, which is goofy, but I’m not sure. Raw oysters really blow my hair back. I like my steak rare, leaning to very rare, burned on the outside and ruby red on the inside, salty. As an omnivore, I like to eat a little bit of everything, although lately I’m for setting the chickens free since the modern industrial chicken tastes like chemicals and not chicken. I don’t eat chicken. Fish, I love fish–tuna, cod, walleye. I’ll eat the six ounce steak on the menu (or I’ll even cook it myself), but I would turn down almost anything larger than that. Digesting animal flesh is hard work, although the payoff if very high. You don’t want to have steak at every meal–the experience would get old really quickly. I like the cut to be either a T-bone or a ribeye. I like nice marbling and juicy meat. There is nothing like putting a nice big steak on the grill, well-seasoned, and sharing it with the other omnivores. I had a big, leafy, green salad last night, and I still feel a bit hungover from that. Oh, one might be a vegetarian, which is a more ethical position, certainly a more defensible one than killing animals for their meat, but I like to eat a little bit of everything.

On steak

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“Are we having steak for dinner tonight?” The answer was “yes.” Sometimes I eat steak with a little salt and pepper, and I’m unapologetic about that–no ketchup though, then I would be apologetic. Sometimes I don’t eat steak, but I do hate tofu and can’t figure why anyone would eat it on purpose. The texture is otherworldly and the taste is disappointing, to say the least–it tastes like something dead. On the other hand, there is something which is creepily primitive,but totally satisfying, about eating the flesh of other animals. I think this may be one of my blind-spots, which is goofy, but I’m not sure. Raw oysters really blow my hair back. I like my steak rare, leaning to very rare, burned on the outside and ruby red on the inside, salty. As an omnivore, I like to eat a little bit of everything, although lately I’m for setting the chickens free since the modern industrial chicken tastes like chemicals and not chicken. I don’t eat chicken. Fish, I love fish–tuna, cod, walleye. I’ll eat the six ounce steak on the menu (or I’ll even cook it myself), but I would turn down almost anything larger than that. Digesting animal flesh is hard work, although the payoff if very high. You don’t want to have steak at every meal–the experience would get old really quickly. I like the cut to be either a T-bone or a ribeye. I like nice marbling and juicy meat. There is nothing like putting a nice big steak on the grill, well-seasoned, and sharing it with the other omnivores. I had a big, leafy, green salad last night, and I still feel a bit hungover from that. Oh, one might be a vegetarian, which is a more ethical position, certainly a more defensible one than killing animals for their meat, but I like to eat a little bit of everything.

On invisible

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The very idea of “invisible” is a little hard to grasp. I’m not just talking about something that is really, really tiny such as an atom or an individual molecule of water, which are pretty much invisible to the human eye. What I want to talk about is something you should be able to see, but for some reason you don’t, and no, I’m not talking about stealth technology, or am I? I am not entirely sure what “invisible” means at all. The Predator can make himself “invisible” by turning on his high-tec camouflage, but that is stealthy technology that makes him hard to see, but he’s not really invisible. I think one needs to ask the hard question, can anything really be invisible that has mass? We know that a magnetic field is invisible, but it also has no mass. Light is visible and invisible according to its wavelength and the ability of the human eye to detect certain wavelengths. Again, for the Predator, other wavelengths are also visible, not invisible. Smells are invisible because the detectable parts per million are so small, we can’t see them with naked eye. If ghosts were real, they would be both visible and invisible at the same time. Certain bombers are invisible in the dark and even radar cannot seem them, but they aren’t really invisible either. Sound is invisible, and the wind is invisible, sort of. I think that it is both frightening and ironic that there are series of horror movies about men who have made themselves invisible, that the invisibility causes insanity and false grandeur. Even the tiniest bugs, amoeba, diatoms, and the like are only invisible because they are tiny and the human eye cannot distinguish anything at the atomic level. Love, or hate, are invisible, but then again, wild emotional abstractions don’t exist in the physical world other than as ideas, not as concrete realities. The closest thing to invisible in our world is the fictional cloaking device that exists in the world of Star Trek, which alters something at the sub-atomic level, changing the time phase of the object, rendering it invisible within its current physical frame and/or context. So I not only don’t know what invisible is, I also have no way of really describing it either. The actual physics of light reflecting off of an object so that said object appears invisible has yet to be truly defeated, except for the world of science fiction. None of this means, however, that we still aren’t working on it, albeit, clandestinely.

On invisible

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The very idea of “invisible” is a little hard to grasp. I’m not just talking about something that is really, really tiny such as an atom or an individual molecule of water, which are pretty much invisible to the human eye. What I want to talk about is something you should be able to see, but for some reason you don’t, and no, I’m not talking about stealth technology, or am I? I am not entirely sure what “invisible” means at all. The Predator can make himself “invisible” by turning on his high-tec camouflage, but that is stealthy technology that makes him hard to see, but he’s not really invisible. I think one needs to ask the hard question, can anything really be invisible that has mass? We know that a magnetic field is invisible, but it also has no mass. Light is visible and invisible according to its wavelength and the ability of the human eye to detect certain wavelengths. Again, for the Predator, other wavelengths are also visible, not invisible. Smells are invisible because the detectable parts per million are so small, we can’t see them with naked eye. If ghosts were real, they would be both visible and invisible at the same time. Certain bombers are invisible in the dark and even radar cannot seem them, but they aren’t really invisible either. Sound is invisible, and the wind is invisible, sort of. I think that it is both frightening and ironic that there are series of horror movies about men who have made themselves invisible, that the invisibility causes insanity and false grandeur. Even the tiniest bugs, amoeba, diatoms, and the like are only invisible because they are tiny and the human eye cannot distinguish anything at the atomic level. Love, or hate, are invisible, but then again, wild emotional abstractions don’t exist in the physical world other than as ideas, not as concrete realities. The closest thing to invisible in our world is the fictional cloaking device that exists in the world of Star Trek, which alters something at the sub-atomic level, changing the time phase of the object, rendering it invisible within its current physical frame and/or context. So I not only don’t know what invisible is, I also have no way of really describing it either. The actual physics of light reflecting off of an object so that said object appears invisible has yet to be truly defeated, except for the world of science fiction. None of this means, however, that we still aren’t working on it, albeit, clandestinely.

On smells

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I was going to call this, “on odors,” but I thought differently–odors are all smells, but not all smells are odors. Being blessed (or maybe cursed) with a sensitive nose, I have often hesitated to share my perceptions about how the world smells. Cities are particularly full of diverse smells, and nothing speaks to urban spaces like the smell of unburned diesel in the morning. It’s not a smell I like, particularly, but it is familiar. Of course, people give off a wide variety of smells, but there is nothing worse than someone who has perfumed their unwashed body. Nothing speaks to decadence quite like the combination of old sweat, rank cigarette smoke, and stale beer–a sort of bitter vinegary smell. The secret for smelling good as a person is simple: bathe and then use other smells sparingly–that’s intoxicating. You catch the person’s clean smell mixed lightly with flowers, spices, citrus, and it’s an experience you soon won’t forget. A word to the wise: never wear yesterday’s clothes if possible. Anything fresh, except for excrement, usually smells pretty good; anything dead should get gas mask treatment. The smell in most funeral homes is, for me, a nightmare smell that is hard to get out of my head. I have to hold my breath when walking past a beauty salon because of the intense horrible smells of the chemicals being used. Same goes for those candle stores in the malls. I actually don’t mind most subways which are combination of mechanical smells, moldy water, and people. For some reason that combination comforts me and means I’m on my way home. My favorite smells? Freshly baking cookies and breads, cut grass, a recently cleaned house, clothing coming out of the dryer, bookstores, freshly ground coffee, milk, cheese, and yoghurt, jamón serrano (a Spanish delicacy), wine, whiskey, freshly cut cedar, cloves and cinnamon, roasting meats, pizza, lillacs (the actually blooming plant), roses, and the wilderness. Of course, the chemical smell of new cars is very popular, but not with me. I find movie theaters with all their sweaty people and greasy foods to be a little overwhelming and decadent. Chain restaurants are sickening for the same reasons. The worse smell ever? Vomit, of course.

On smells

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I was going to call this, “on odors,” but I thought differently–odors are all smells, but not all smells are odors. Being blessed (or maybe cursed) with a sensitive nose, I have often hesitated to share my perceptions about how the world smells. Cities are particularly full of diverse smells, and nothing speaks to urban spaces like the smell of unburned diesel in the morning. It’s not a smell I like, particularly, but it is familiar. Of course, people give off a wide variety of smells, but there is nothing worse than someone who has perfumed their unwashed body. Nothing speaks to decadence quite like the combination of old sweat, rank cigarette smoke, and stale beer–a sort of bitter vinegary smell. The secret for smelling good as a person is simple: bathe and then use other smells sparingly–that’s intoxicating. You catch the person’s clean smell mixed lightly with flowers, spices, citrus, and it’s an experience you soon won’t forget. A word to the wise: never wear yesterday’s clothes if possible. Anything fresh, except for excrement, usually smells pretty good; anything dead should get gas mask treatment. The smell in most funeral homes is, for me, a nightmare smell that is hard to get out of my head. I have to hold my breath when walking past a beauty salon because of the intense horrible smells of the chemicals being used. Same goes for those candle stores in the malls. I actually don’t mind most subways which are combination of mechanical smells, moldy water, and people. For some reason that combination comforts me and means I’m on my way home. My favorite smells? Freshly baking cookies and breads, cut grass, a recently cleaned house, clothing coming out of the dryer, bookstores, freshly ground coffee, milk, cheese, and yoghurt, jamón serrano (a Spanish delicacy), wine, whiskey, freshly cut cedar, cloves and cinnamon, roasting meats, pizza, lillacs (the actually blooming plant), roses, and the wilderness. Of course, the chemical smell of new cars is very popular, but not with me. I find movie theaters with all their sweaty people and greasy foods to be a little overwhelming and decadent. Chain restaurants are sickening for the same reasons. The worse smell ever? Vomit, of course.

On fractals

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Though they are complex to describe, you have seen them many times in snow flakes, branching river deltas, the branches of pine trees, ancient ferns, and the florettes of a cauliflower. Fractals, though difficult to define, seem to be repeating self-similar patterns that repeat until they are infinitesimly small, but always the same. Fractals, if you were to analyse them from a mathematical standpoint, are non-linear functions that form all sorts of beautiful loops, and swirls that go on and on into a vanishing point somewhere off of the graph paper. We see fractals that occur in nature all the time. They are so common that we would miss if they weren’t there, but we ignore them because they are ubiquitous. Fractals are imprinted in our subconscious to the point that a nautilous shell can only have one design–a spiral of ever increasing size. If the fractal weren’t there, it wouldn’t be a nautilous shell, or pine tree branch, frost on a window, branching lightening, or the Mississippi River delta. Ever look at the way medieval architects imprint a fractal design on the front of Gothic cathedrals? Fractals are pleasing to the eye and soothing for the soul. Part of the universes harmony is wrapped up in fractals, including the designs of galaxies. Now, in the Oscar winning song of the year, “Let it Go,” the word fractal is included in the lyrics, and the main character creates an ice palace out of macro-fractal snow flake. Fascinating.

On fractals

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Though they are complex to describe, you have seen them many times in snow flakes, branching river deltas, the branches of pine trees, ancient ferns, and the florettes of a cauliflower. Fractals, though difficult to define, seem to be repeating self-similar patterns that repeat until they are infinitesimly small, but always the same. Fractals, if you were to analyse them from a mathematical standpoint, are non-linear functions that form all sorts of beautiful loops, and swirls that go on and on into a vanishing point somewhere off of the graph paper. We see fractals that occur in nature all the time. They are so common that we would miss if they weren’t there, but we ignore them because they are ubiquitous. Fractals are imprinted in our subconscious to the point that a nautilous shell can only have one design–a spiral of ever increasing size. If the fractal weren’t there, it wouldn’t be a nautilous shell, or pine tree branch, frost on a window, branching lightening, or the Mississippi River delta. Ever look at the way medieval architects imprint a fractal design on the front of Gothic cathedrals? Fractals are pleasing to the eye and soothing for the soul. Part of the universes harmony is wrapped up in fractals, including the designs of galaxies. Now, in the Oscar winning song of the year, “Let it Go,” the word fractal is included in the lyrics, and the main character creates an ice palace out of macro-fractal snow flake. Fascinating.