The Miracle of Salmon - Salmon is Miracle Food
I have been puking pretty bad for a few days now. I am no longer even very hungry. A tough way to lean out, and I have this strange, ever-present metallic taste in my mouth.
After six weeks of indulging myself - think back to my low of 188 in late May - I had ballooned fron the 190's range to as high as 210 last week. This morning I was 200 pounds. Which makes my kick to the line on Saturday morning's Summerfast 10K even more remarkable - and my almost passing out afterwards more understandable. Hugh, Patrick and Justin kept me from hitting the ground.
I have largely stopped guzzling beer like it was water. The alcohol never seemed to have much effect on me - yes, I am a liar - and my liver seems grateful.
Strangely enough, for a man who has devoted the last two decades of his life to worshiping at the altar of the red grape, I have lost all taste for red wine. It is like my palate has lost all its subtlety and finesse. Red wine is all just grape juice to me know. I know, I want to cry too...
White wine, which normally I tolerate, I am drinking like lemonade. Mostly because it is cold I think.
I can not stand the heat of the day or the rays of the suns. The pain is excruciating. White wine and ice help. When I am not hibernating that is.
But Salmon! I can taste it on my palate and my tongue and my lips and down my throat. I love the smell, and the taste and the texture. SALMON! My God, it make me weep but you are a gift from the Gods, Salmon. I feel I should be releasing your bones into the sea so that you may return. I think that the Salmon will save me. I thank the Gods and the Sea and Salmon and the Waves for bringing you to me.
And the only other thing that I do not fight to keep down is this strange damn bar from Clif called the MoJO. It is just a strange amalgamation of different organic nuts - 70% organic by the way. It is almonds and cashews and pecans and pretzel pieces. Weird. But palatable and not pukable for your truly. Thanks Gary.
I got a ton of flack from yesterday's Blog. And I obviously failed to make my point, which was for people to see the bigger picture - and it's not as if I have any special fucking insight into that one, baby! The point being to get over yourself. You are a speck in the cosmos. Infintismal. You, I, all of us will be dead soon. Much sooner than you think. You are walking worm meat. Think about that for a while.
Have you done a single fucking thing to make the world a better or more interesting place?
Have you made any other single person's life better?
Like I mean, ever?
When you are gone, what will you leave behind?
Anything worthwhile?
Anything that will take longer than sixty seconds to talk about?
I'm not too sure I pass that test myself.
But eat Salmon!
And the only Salmon that counts is wild Salmon.
Perferably from Haida Gwaii!
After six weeks of indulging myself - think back to my low of 188 in late May - I had ballooned fron the 190's range to as high as 210 last week. This morning I was 200 pounds. Which makes my kick to the line on Saturday morning's Summerfast 10K even more remarkable - and my almost passing out afterwards more understandable. Hugh, Patrick and Justin kept me from hitting the ground.
I have largely stopped guzzling beer like it was water. The alcohol never seemed to have much effect on me - yes, I am a liar - and my liver seems grateful.
Strangely enough, for a man who has devoted the last two decades of his life to worshiping at the altar of the red grape, I have lost all taste for red wine. It is like my palate has lost all its subtlety and finesse. Red wine is all just grape juice to me know. I know, I want to cry too...
White wine, which normally I tolerate, I am drinking like lemonade. Mostly because it is cold I think.
I can not stand the heat of the day or the rays of the suns. The pain is excruciating. White wine and ice help. When I am not hibernating that is.
But Salmon! I can taste it on my palate and my tongue and my lips and down my throat. I love the smell, and the taste and the texture. SALMON! My God, it make me weep but you are a gift from the Gods, Salmon. I feel I should be releasing your bones into the sea so that you may return. I think that the Salmon will save me. I thank the Gods and the Sea and Salmon and the Waves for bringing you to me.
And the only other thing that I do not fight to keep down is this strange damn bar from Clif called the MoJO. It is just a strange amalgamation of different organic nuts - 70% organic by the way. It is almonds and cashews and pecans and pretzel pieces. Weird. But palatable and not pukable for your truly. Thanks Gary.
I got a ton of flack from yesterday's Blog. And I obviously failed to make my point, which was for people to see the bigger picture - and it's not as if I have any special fucking insight into that one, baby! The point being to get over yourself. You are a speck in the cosmos. Infintismal. You, I, all of us will be dead soon. Much sooner than you think. You are walking worm meat. Think about that for a while.
Have you done a single fucking thing to make the world a better or more interesting place?
Have you made any other single person's life better?
Like I mean, ever?
When you are gone, what will you leave behind?
Anything worthwhile?
Anything that will take longer than sixty seconds to talk about?
I'm not too sure I pass that test myself.
But eat Salmon!
And the only Salmon that counts is wild Salmon.
Perferably from Haida Gwaii!
posted by Vince Hemingson at 6:03 AM
1 Comments:
I am not a very good writer but I agreed with you that live is short and that we may be forgotten in a very short time. A friend discribed the time as the time it takes water to fill the hole you leave behind when you remove your hand from a bucket of water. I always wanted to chanlenge that idea and do just one thing that someone would remember for a little longer.
I don't know anything I have done that would be remember for very long after I go but I keep trying to do things. Vince you thought up the idea of a Totem to Totem Marathon and it will take a long time to get it up and running free from debt and enjoyed by many but remember the Bostom Marathon started with just a few people too and now we have books written about it.
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