Godzilla Goldfish and the Wonders of Yoga

The woman next to me in my Bikram yoga class today had two tattoos. The first was a gigantic goldfish, a godzilla-goldie twelve or thirteen times the size of your average fish, glubbing beguilingly as it gazed at me from its position on her left arm. The other, sexily placed on her rib cage beneath her right armpit, was an equally spacious affair detailing a cardinal perched on a tree branch. I can only wonder if, given the choice, she'd rather be represented artistically as an aquarium (or, perhaps, a short-lived childhood pet?) or the official State of Virginia brochure.

A Wee Explanation

"Oh Johnny's in the basement

Mixin' up the medicine

I'm on the pavement

Thinkin' 'bout the government

Man in a trench coat, badge out, laid off

Says he's got a bad cough

Wants to get it paid off

Look out kid, it's somethin' you did

God knows when but you're doin' it again

You better duck down the alleyway

Lookin' for a new friend

The man in the coon-skin cap in the big pen

Wants eleven-dollar bills, and

You only got tens."

Thus spake the immortal Bob Dylan.

There is some controversy over whether the last lines in this, the first verse of "Subterranean Homesick Blues," should in fact read "Wants eleven dollar bills, and / You only got ten." That version is boring. The other version is interesting. Decision made.

I chose it for the title of my blog for two reasons. Mostly, I chose it because it has an esoteric ring to it, and one time a camp counselor of mine whom I absolutely worshipped (he was a tight-rope walker and knew a lot about nature. Yuuuup.) said, as his chiseled but somehow endearing features were illuminated by the light of a campfire, that it would be really cool if someone memorized that whole song. What else could I do but memorize that song, if I ever wanted to feel relevant as a human being again?

The second reason that I chose it is that the line has a quirky sort of metaphorical pertinence: life is all about trying to come up with an answer to give the guy who's asking for something that doesn't exist. What would you do if someone asked you for an eleven-dollar bill? You'd have to think differently, yes?

(Almost) a New Year's in NYC

Here are some interesting stats about my trip to NYC:

Shows Seen: 2 (Billy Elliot and A Little Night Music)

Celebrity sightings: 5 (Elmo, the Cookie Monster, Batman, Spiderman, the guy who played Mark Cohen in Rent)

Conversations with Celebrities: 1 (Mark Cohen and I talked about Broadway shows in my hotel elevator. He got out on the 7th floor. I got out on the 9th floor, went into my room, and died.)

Instances of Physical Contact With Celebrities: 1 (I fist-bumped the Cookie Monster.)

Museum Exhibits: 6 (Kandinsky, El Greco, Jane Austen, JP Morgan's private study, Monet's Waterlilies, Tim Burton.)

Paintings Viewed: Don't even go there . . .

All in all, it was a fantastic way to close out the year. I was back in Charlottesville for the actual New Year's Eve, where I was entertaining two girls from Alabama who were visiting us. Hence, my night was spent playing charades (picture a little blonde eight-year-old girl trying to speak whale without sound) and watching Harry Potter. In between games, when I had an average of 0.3 seconds to myself before my young charges would go, with their adorable deep southern accents, "what're we gonna do naaooow?" I felt an overpowering feeling of gladness for what this year has given me. It's given me a ticket out of high school and into my amazingly bright future at Kenyon with people that I've already come to love. It's given me a million laughs and enough tears to make the laughs worth while. It's given me the time to grow out of acne (finally, thank GOD). So thanks 2009, it's been fun! Here's to 2010 :)