Friday - 2008-0718-2100 - Rain - Glass Towers in Toronto; Urinary/Prostate Infection; Last Few Days; Wind chimes and Pottery; Savings Account; Lunch - Ichiban; Lunch - Ichiban - Feng Shui; Lunch - Ichiban - Glass Table Tops; Lunch - Ichiban - Observations - Physical Space; Lunch - Ichiban - Observations - People; Lunch - Ichiban - Observations - People - "Grand Hotel"; An Aside - Cats / Unable to Find Books; Borders - "The Careful Use of Compliments" / Bookmark; Plants / A Chat; Home

Rain - Glass Towers in Toronto Larger Image An image from Bright Ideas Group Blog - Toronto's urban landscape. A part of Student Marketing Consulting at the Schulich School of Business

As I wrote to someone Wednesday:

For what's it worth, the prostate infection was not "cured" by the last round of antibiotics. In fact, I was a little suspicious after the regime of Cipro. I thought I could sense a residual effect. Alas, not at all unusual. Prostate infections can be VERY difficult to overcome. Especially if you suffer from Hypospadias because there is no protection for the urinary opening. This is always a show-stopper as dinner conversation. I've never heard another person even mention it. I've never known of any other guy who has it. (Even during my slut period during which I encounter many male organs.) I've never even seen a non-medical article.) If you want some more details, which you may not; you may just want to just take my word for it, visit Hypospadias. (Holy fuck! I just read the article. It is disturbing, graphic and scary as hell.) So I went to the nearby MEA clinic yesterday (Tuesday), got a shot of Rocephin, a broad-spectrum antibiotic and a prescription for a three-week supply of Levaquin.

"show stopper at dinner conversation" = funny. You could also take along some 8 x 10 cards with medical diagrams to hold up during the conversation.

8 x 10 cards. Hmmmmmmmm! I think I like the idea of large 14 x 18 high-resolution color photos. Or I could try a wall-size projector. Oh, wait, I'll need to bring along my laser pointer. Notice the clever use of humor as a psychological coping mechanism. A Hamlet moment disguised as a Pagliacci interlude.

While in the clinic, I mentioned having back pains, which I could tell set off an alarm bell in the doctor's brain. She said she was fearful that the infection may have spread to the kidneys. Which can sometimes happen within hours. If that were the case, it can be very serious. I've been through that a few times, and it was a terrible experience that takes about two months before you feel half-way decent. See "Kidney infection: Seek prompt treatment, avoid complications - MayoClinic.com".

Kidney infection (pyelonephritis) is a specific type of urinary tract infection (UTI) that generally begins in your urethra or bladder and travels up into your kidneys. If not treated properly, kidney infection can permanently damage your kidneys or spread to your bloodstream and cause a life-threatening infection. Prompt medical attention is required.

She called for blood work. This process always fascinates me. It's not so much that you're looking for a particular disorder; instead you're looking for the presence of white blood cells which a disorder would cause to be produced. It's like a form of recursive logic.

Ten minutes later, she returned and said there was no indication of a problem. However, she want to send a urine sample off for further analysis.

Yuck! Blah! Yuck! Terrible body aches. Migraine. Nausea. Did not find anything of interest. Terrible time sleeping.

But, I've had worse! Many years ago before the new type of antibiotics. I spent the summer of my 28th year with an infection that went on for two months. Wanted to die. Did not leave the apartment for days on end. Finally, it slowly dissipated. Only to appear at a very difficult time at work. I was so overcome with depression, pain, etc., that I resigned my job. Dreadful experience at the time. But it did eventually lead to a better opportunity. I carefully plotted murder of my immediate supervisor for several years. But he was struck with a terrible tragedy: he went into his son's bedroom and found him dead. Some type of myocardial infraction. A couple of years later, he was fired for asking staff members to change student grades.

You may or may not remember that a couple of months ago, I took an unglazed wind chime (bought in the late 60s) that was almost completely destroyed over the years to be repaired by a local potter. The top section was a likeness of the god of the north wind, Boris, with puffed cheeks. Original "chimes" were partially clay-covered oyster shells. All broken at one point and another. Inside of which was a ring of small hollow cylinders; also totally missing.

The potter immediately recognized the artist. Said he was a conceptual genius but totally indifferent to making a completed piece.

The potter called this morning and said his re-conceptualization was ready. I'm very eager to see the results.

I also plan to show him an untitled piece that I purchased at a collegiate art contest in 1974. I think it is a masterpiece of museum quality. But I've never had anybody pay any attention to it. But when one has to tolerate philistines, what do you expect.

At the beginning of the month, I signed up for a savings account on-line. I requested that the money be transferred from checking. Quickly discovered I'd miscalculated. Went to bank, and was told money would not be transferred until signature card arrived in the mail.

I waited but no card. Today I checked by the bank and discovered since no funds had been deposited into the account within three days, it had been closed. Jesus!!!

Very helpful service rep. SUPERB listener. He did an excellent job of explaining using the savings account as a backup for overdrafts from checking/debit. Some really complicated maneuvering on the part of the bank. Anything to generate fees. I told him if the banking business did not work out, he should go into counseling.

I told him at this point, I'd have to start all over at the first of August.

As I was sitting there, my cell phone chirped, much to my surprise. It was the clinic telling me that the secondary urine analysis was fine. I told the rep what the message was and said at least I didn't get it during lunch.

As I entered Ichiban for lunch, I noticed a group leaving, one of which was a young teenage male with beautiful brown curly hair, wearing a fedora. It was such a striking look, that I followed them out and told him how much I liked it. I thought of a young Shia LaBeouf in his Harpo Mark phase.

The kid was delighted and could not thank me enough.

There's a line from one of James Baldwin's books about curly hair that I've always loved. "Spinning around their head like fire and prophecy." That's a rough paraphrase.

I've come to have a great fondness for the large open space of the restaurant. It's akin to eating in an atrium. The ceiling is easily 30-feet high. I told the owner, he needed a large dragon for the space. He replied a metal one was included in the original plan, but he didn't care for it.

He went on to say that the Feng Shui of a dragon or a lion was too "strong." I think I understand what he means, but I'm not sure. I do know that it is taken very seriously. I remember reading about a bank in Hong Kong that had lions at the entrance. But the Feng Shui was "wrong," so they were moved.

Last week, I noticed he had added white table clothes and glass tops to his tables.I figured there must be at least 50 or 60 tables, so I'm sure this was a sizable investment. A couple of days later, he asked me what I thought, and I said that his lunch crowd were a busy bunch. My guess is that few would even notice. He said there had been an accident when two of the servers attempted to put two tables together. The glass corner of one hit the glass corner of the other shattering both tops. And even though it was safety glass, a shard spun off and knicked a little girl's leg. He said the customer was very nice; took the child to a clinic; and he reimbursed them for the cost. He said he was thinking of removing the glass. And I quickly agreed. I could easily see someone making a major incident of such an accident and filing a suit. No matter the outcome, it would kill his business.

Today, the table tops were gone. I wonder what he did with them.

I've more or less stopped reading at lunch, because the light is too dim. So I observe the restaurant and the people.

The buffet sits under a giant umbrella. I'd wondered from time to time, if it was an actual functioning umbrella or just a prop. But it appears to have all the appropriate gears to allow it to be unfurled. My guess is that it was manufactured as a single unit, then opened. Otherwise, how could get it into a space. The idea of constructing it piece by piece is a possibility, but not a very practical one.

Around the edges at the top are a series of multi-colored lights. Glass globes of about four-inches in diameter with multiple hollow spaces inside to help better reflect the light. On closer examination, I realized that the globes were held in place by an inverted tripod with the actual lights positioned above and shining down.

Two or three days ago, I noticed that the ends of the spokes of the metal struts of the umbrella have the snout of a shark profile. I've seen this pattern before associated with oriental objects.

Since I dilly dally at lunch and feel under no obligation to gobble down my food within a specified period as lunch-hour workers would, I can watch the comings and goings. And a mixed crowd it is. Service personnel in a variety of field uniforms from the nearby National Guard station at the airport. Mexican construction workers. Couples - hetro and homo. Families of three generations.

Elaborately dressed woman, usually full figure, who remind me of drag queens. Now that I think of it, they may be drag queens. A solitary diner ever now and then. The very polished business man with the precision haircut, the starched shirt, and the expensive shoes with the unsmiling severe face and the hard glare usually eating with an equally polished, younger woman who screams "trophy wife."

For some reason, anytime I indifferently watch the unintentional choreography of a flock of people, I'm reminded of a line from the 1932 movie, "Grand Hotel": "Grand Hotel... always the same. People come, people go. Nothing ever happens."

When I started this eternal project or redoing the living room, I moved all the storage cubes and books into what was mother's bedroom. I have to keep the door closed, for if it's open for a second, the cats run in and play and hide among the books. And disappear into the cat dimension that only cats can enter. Before leaving, I'll carefully search the room, see no one and close the door. Ten minutes later, I'll hear a scratching at the door.

When I first placed the books in the room, I tried to adhere to some system. But over the weeks, I've had to shift stacks and piles to find a particular book. So now it it strictly higgledy-piggledy, and I can never find anything.

Hence the reason the Baldwin quote is a paraphrase. I'd never be able to find the book.

I've been re-reading Alexander McCall Smith's first novel ("The Sunday Philosophy Club") in the Isabel Dalhousie series. Isabel is a philosopher and ethicist who lives in Edinburg, Scotland, and is the editor of a journal - "Review of Applied Ethics."

I'd forgotten how remarkable the book was and what a complex character Isabel was.

I've noticed the term "mystery" applied to the the book and its successors but that does not do them justice. It's far more about the resolution of ethical dilemmas that may or may not be capable of closure.

I'd paid a quick visit to Borders last week for no particular purpose, but I did check if there was a new book in the series. And there was - "The Careful Use of Compliments," but I did some internal quibbling about the price and chose not to purchase it.

However, I felt I deserved some positive reinforcement after feeling most unwell for several days. So I bought it.

As I was standing in the check-out line, I noticed two women sitting by the window cheerily knitting. One had what appeared to be a bootie. But the other item resembled what may have been a large book bag. My first irrational flash was that it looked like a big garbage bag.

As I moved forward I discovered a revolving rack of bookmarks. "An excellent idea," I thought. Half the books in the house have index cards, envelopes, note paper, paper clips and who knows what else tucked away in their insides. The thought of a constant device seemed very sensible. This one has a narrow red textured ribbon connecting a round silvery metal disc at each end with a red inner circle embossed with an undecipherable oriental-styled glyph.

My last stop was the plant nursery I'd visited last week. I was trying to figure out how to fill in the areas between the medium-size evergreens I planted. It was very hot, and I was feeling slightly dizzy, so I settled on two Pampas Grass plants.

On the way to checkout, I noticed someone I've known for several years. She is a sheer delight - sensible, knowledgeable, very caring , and extremely perceptive. We had a 30-minute chat in which I went through my travails for the last few years.

I've thought about the fact that this comes across as fairly self-centered on my part. But I'm extremely reluctant to ask personal questions. I feel I'm invading their privacy. And if they want me to know something, it will come forth. (I'm considering condensing my story to ten or fifteen pages, printing about 25-30 copies, keeping them in a box in the car, and handing them out as need be.)

By the time I reached home, it was past the cat's afternoon snack, so they were very perturbed. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing Handel's "Messiah" at full volume could not have equaled the cat screechings I endured.

After filling the various cat dishes, I went back to the bedroom where my desk is to sort out receipts, place the book on a chest and take the packaging off the bookmark. Five seconds later the felines appeared. And were totally mesmerized by the bookmark. They grabbed it, ran across the bed with it, pulled at the discs, chewed on the ribbon, knocked it on the floor. All this at such a lightning speed that I was stunned. I finally came to my senses and yanked it away.

Once that was gone, they turned their attention to the packaging and were equally intrigued. There's a saying about if you give a cat a toy, they will ignore the toy and play with the package.

(In Friday - 2008-0718-2100 / Out - 2008-0719-2200) This entry was written in multiple settings.

Pax! Erin go braugh! Je accuse...