Drinking Mate with Mate

Jesus. OK. Let’s drink some mate while listening to a video by Gabor Mate:

“Our attachment needs are enormous.”

“So attachment is a human need.”

“That’s just a basic human need.”

“But we have another need….”

It’s 11:15am Pacific Daylight Time and I’ve had 13g of net carbs. One matcha bar, one Yerbana Sparkling yerba mate, and two eggs. Yesterday I had exactly 100g of net carbs. I ended the evening with a pint of rasberries doused in heavy whipping cream. PRIMO HEAVY WHIPPING CREAM, MIND YOU. This shit was from PCC. It cost a shit ton. It was made by pasture-raised cows who have lived lives approximately 70 times better than yours. Happy cows. Cows who are jubilant to part with their cream, who say, “Take, then, human, and drink! Drink and thrive!”

So much fucking conjugated linoleic acid.

Also I had a burrito bowl from Chipotle yesterday. Cauliflower rice, veggies, guac, sour cream and cheese, and two kinds of salsa. A fucking watery mess. But pretty good. And only like 19g of net carbs. Chipotle is basically the only fast food place where you can eat a healthy low-carb meal, and I’M NOT JUST SAYING THIS BECAUSE I’M A FORMER SHAREHOLDER. OH NO. I’M SAYING THIS BECAUSE IT’S TRUE.

And I only speak the truth.

Excuse me while I watch the rest of yesteryear’s Badwater Bouldering video:

Alpha linolenic acid.

Champions League starts in 30 minutes.

I wish I had more mate.

I have to pee so bad but I don’t want to leave the boat because I’m not exactly sure when my next pump out is and I don’t want the waste tank to fill up cuz I don’t want to have to pee into a bottle.

Okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

a;sdkfj;adslkfjadlk;sjfdla;jdalk;adjfdl;skfjdslk;fdjsf;lkdjdl;kfajsflk;dsjfal;dksj

a;sldkjf;ladksjf;dlksjfdlsfjdsa;lkfjds;lfjda;lkfjd;lkfjadlk;fjdkl;fdaj;fjdsa;klfdsjkl;fadsj;ldkfjdas;lfk

Pheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.

Breathe out.

I’m going climbing today at SBP. Not sure when. Maybe this afternoon with my friend Anya, or maybe sooner by myself. Honestly I’d kind of like to just go sooner by myself. But. It would also be rad to crush with a friend. It’s just that I don’t like it when it’s crowded in the evening. Kinda lame. Like, I don’t like being around a bunch of people. Like, I hate people. Like, I hate myself.

JK.

Goals for today: Send the orange upstairs that has the barn door. Maybe try the black right next to it. Maybe try the blue in the corner. Maybe try the black downstairs. Maybe try the orange downstairs. Mabye just not climb at all and get a smoothie. Keep the carbs under 100g for net carbs. Don’t EAT ANY GRAINS YOU PIECE OF SHIT! NO GRAINS! No sweets. Get your body hard. Do some pushups. Gotta do those antagonist exercises. I just want to crush. I just want to be able to crush Water V6. Then go to your job interview tomorrow. Job interview. Fuck. I don’t want a job. Do I want a job? I mean, getting unemployment is pretty bomb….

Plus I just got my stimulus check yesterday…..

Plus……………..

 

 

Mentally Preparing

I’m mentally preparing for a trip to Trader Joe’s this evening. What will I buy????? Oh, but the possibilities are limitless. Pickled herring. A Danish kringle. Daal. Grassfed yogurt, where the actual yogurt itself is fed a steady diet of grass of six months before being packaged. Grassfed beef, in which the beef is fed a steady diet of grass. Cold brew. Smoked oysters. Kombucha. Eggs. Bread. More eggs. Less eggs. More bread. Even more bread. Less bread. And finally more bread again.

Today has been a day of good notices. First of all the market was up. Second of all I had physial therapy and foud out at the end of my physical therapy that I can basically do unlimited apppointments in April without having to get approval from my insurer. Thirdly I applied for some jobs. Fourthly I found out I’m still getting unemployment. And fifthly…..what was fifthly? Oh yeah, I had a good coffee. I got Chipotle. I went and looked at the cherry blossoms in the quad.

Lots of good things.

Physical therapy was exciting because today they did their three month assessment, and the main PT cleared the PT’s working on me to push me a lot harder. Get me jumping up and down, get me moving side to side. She said at this point the tissue is mostly healed so now some of the biggest obstacles are psychological. I can do a lot more than I think I can do. Lateral movement is still scary, but that’s because I think I’m more injured than I am. The most exciting part is the jumping up and down is going to prepare me for precisely things like falling off a wall onto a bouldering pad, or falling off a boulder onto a small bouldering pad. She knows I climb, and she knows I want to be able to climb again. So that’s what she’s preparing me for.

In other news, my right hand feels fucked. I climbed three times in two days earlier this week, and it was simply too much. Normally I would climb tomorrow with H at 4:30pm, but I’m gonna have to sit it out. I MIGHT be able to climb on Sunday with Bloom and Jessa, but I want to get my hand back to normal and THEN give it a couple additional days of rest before climbing again. At the latest I should be climbing again sometime next week. At least it’s not my knee, right? Crying face.

Excuse me while I lather myself in CBD oil.

In other news I’m going to reduce my blogging frequency to once every two days. Every day is just a little too much.  I feel like it makes the quality of the posts suffer, and it also makes me burnt out on writing. It’s a tough balance for me because on the one hand I want to get better at writing and stick to a schedule, but on the other hand I don’t want to hate it.

So.

The lathering is complete and it’s almost time to leave the boat. I think I’m going to walk to Trader Joe’s, which would imply walking across the Ballard Bridge. OR! I could go to the TJ’s in Queen Anne, which is equal parts exotic and soothing. I could park my car kinda far away so I’m forced to walk through Queen Ann, which would be equal parts tranquil and comforting.

Anyway.

There you have it.

 

Fire Up the Two-Stroke

Fucasdasf;ladksjf;lkdasjf;ldasjf;lkdasjfl;kdasjf;ldkasjfdl;aksfjdsl;kfjdsl;kafjdasl;kfjda

I need caffeine.

Gonna take the boat out today for the first time this season. Got ‘er semi gassed up. Don’t have any snacks though; that’s a real problem. The snack sitaution must be remedied. I actually looked at google flights today and thought hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm where could i go right now. Like not tomorrow. Like right now. Like I get on the light rail to the airport in 15 minutes and fly somewhere in the caribbean again and start drinking alcohol again and just spend a week rotting in the caribbean. Sounds pretty fun.

OK. So. The people at the Leavenworth Haus are officially offering no rent till May. Should I move there. What’s the status on the knee? Well, still not fully healed. Not even close. I keep thinking it’s kinda close, then I’m like nahhhhhhhhhhhh probably gonna be another couple months. So frustrating.

I need more caffeine fuck I’m addicted.

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Failure to observe what is in the mind of another has seldom made a man unhappy; but those who do not observe the movements of their own minds must of necessity be unhappy. – Marcus Aurelius

My therapist told me she liked Marcus Aurelius when she was in her teens. If you like Marcus Aurelius in your teens, what do you then graduate to? Joan Didion? Noam Chomsky? No, Noam Chomsky is probably somehow basic, too. Sartre????? No, so fucking basic. The plays of Henrik Ibsen????? Then again, she didn’t know who Karl Ove Knausgaard was, and Karl Ove Knausgaard is not basic, there’s just no way.

Maybe he’s kinda basic.

Who cares.

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And amino acids.

He’s like a poor man’s Sean Bailey. Similar style, similar hair.

I’ve been posting pretty much daily for the past month and I want to keep the streak alive.

I just don’t think it’s healthy. A few years ago Clara made me SWEAR to her not to write for a year (I was allowed to journal) and that was one of the greatest years of my life. I did journal. But I didn’t write any fucking blog.

This boat leaves in one hour and 18 minutes. I’m going to go out and fire up the motor. See if it works. It’s a two-stroke Johnon. A two-stroke Johnson! My boat does about 5 knots at a really good clip. I have no idea what the hull speed is but she’s covered in muck from sitting all winter and she hasn’t had a haul out in about many years so her bottom is just covered in algae and all sorts of other stuff. The rudder, god you would cry if you saw the rudder. It’s a green mess of flora. I should probably get out the brush and brush it, but I’m too lazy.

My forearms are absolutely shredded today.

Ok that’s about enough of this. I’m going to go do some chores, aka maybe clean boat, aka probably not, aka maybe do some light yoga, aka try to fire up the two stroke.

– Wetz

Waking up on the Boat

My awakening in the morning happens in steps, much like a spiritual awakening probably happens. When I first wake up I’m always a bit confused. Where am? Why am I on this boat? Why am floating?

Then I get my bearings and the first thing I do is open the curtain directly above my head. Let some light in. Look at the mast of my neighbor’s boat. One time I was looking at the mast and a crow landed on one of the spreaders. This had never happened before. What majesty! What glory for one of god’s creatures to alight upon an object made by man and bestow its glory upon it, even if only a “lowly” crow.

After opening this first curtain I eventually, and I’m not exactly sure how this happens, get up and rather quickly open all the other curtains on the boat to let in as much light as possible, and then I do something that lets in TONS of light, i.e. take out all the wooden boards of the hatch — and here I’m exposed to the outside world! geese honking! water rippling! wind blowing! — and replace them with the two plexiglass pieces that turn most of the north side of my boat into a window. Now we’re talking. Now the light is getting in and I’ve gotten out of bed.

But of course I get right back in.

I get right back in, but at least now I’m “up.” I’m not going back to sleep. I look at my phone because I’m not allowed to look at the internet till 8am. So I journal a bit. I look at maps. I think about what I’m going to do that day.

I put on the tea kettle, and this is where things really start to change. I’m now going to INGEST something. Granted, I’m not going to ingest any calories. That happens later. I’m going to ingest tea, and lately it’s been in the form of an herbal tea from Rishi called “Elderberry Healer” that’s got ginger, elderberry, hibiscus and a few other things. I like to NOT start the day with caffeine if I can. That said, I’m currently drinking a yerba mate beverage from Trader Joe’s, but it’s already almost 9am, and I’m well into the morning process. It’s ok to have some caffeine at this point. But I don’t like it to be the first thing that enters my body. I like to awaken somewhat naturally.

While the tea is steeping I’m back in bed and if it’s already 8am I’m checking stocks and checking my email and doing all sorts of stupid stuff on the internet, and if it’s not 8am I’m either journaling more or reading or just kind of lying there, looking out at the world through the hatch. This morning I read A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold, and I’d like to give you a quote from it just because I found it so beautiful:

(talking about walking his land in the early morning with his dog after listening to the birds)

We sally forth, the dog and I, at random. He has paid scant respect to all these vocals goings-on, for to him the evidence of tenantry is not song, but scent. Any illiterate bundle of feathers, he says, can make a noise in a tree. Now he is going to translate for me the olfactory poems that who-knows-what silent creatures have written in the summer night.

A Sandy County Almanac, 1949

This makes me think of the processions I can watch every day if I’m not too engrossed in watching bouldering videos on YouTube. The geese honking, the mallards paddling, the mergansers diving, the herons sitting on the pier, and at some point the bald eagles will be back, but that probably doesn’t happen till salmon season. But even without the birds there are still things to watch. The ripples on the water. The boats idling into the locks. I derive a bit of satisfaction just from looking at the wood of the dock as it extends out into the cold grey of the lake water.

But enough of that. Now that I’ve interneted and had some tea I’m actually up, and this is where things get crazy, here I actually take all the bedding off my bed, aka the bench seat where I sleep, and now I sit back on it with my legs propped up, leaning back against the bulkhead on the bedding I’ve bunched in the corner. From here I’ll maybe transition into actually sitting up, my computer on the table in front of me. And then I’ve fully woken up. Though let’s be honest, usually this process is interrupted halfway through by me getting into my car and driving to Whole Foods to spend WAY too much on matcha and its derivatives. A matcha bar. A matcha latte with OAT milk. A green hop tea.

And now that this has happened TODAY for example I have to figure out what to do. Or actually I GET to figure out what to do. I thought about driving out to Index today just to look at Chutzpah V10, and then maybe continue on to Leavenworth and Wenatchee and stay the night in Wenatchee. But it’s hard for me to justify all that driving unless I’m going to look at a lot of boulders, or do some hiking and exploring, or stay a couple days. After all, Why should the lord of the country flit about like a fool?

-WW

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ve literally been sitting in the same position for over an hour now, listening to a podcast featuring John Sherman, the inventor of the V-scale and one of the fathers of bouldering. I really want to go to Whole Foods and get an ice cream sandwich, but I climbed today and I pushed it pretty hard so I’m afraid that eating a bunch of sugar right before bed will make me significantly more swollen tomorrow. What I should probably do is just inject BPC-157, maybe take a shower, and then do all the boring shit I do before bed and eventually go to bed. Or not inject BCP-157. Doesn’t really matter.

I CLIMBED TODAY AND IT WAS FUCKING GREAT.

God.

I love climbing.

I made progress on an orange I’d tried the other day (bump the right hand out to a crimpy gaston), started a new orange and made quite a bit of progress on that (need to rock over more onto that right foot Mark what is wrong with you!!!!!!!!!), and started projecting a new black that should go next session or at the ABSOLUTE FUCKING LATEST in the next couple sessions indivisible with liberty and justice.

I sigh and lean back on the bench seat I’m sitting on. The heater is whirring below me and to my right. I think I want tobacco right now. But I’m not going to buy tobacco. Well, nicotine is what I really want. But I’m not going to buy tobacco and I’m not going to buy nicotine.

AJSDKFJADSKFKDLSFKDALSFKDALSFKDASLFKADSLFJDAKSFJDKSAAJFKDSFJDAKSFASDJFAKDSFJADKS

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Left hand up to the crimp, right foot up to the bad foothold, launch up to the decent jug.

I’m going to type with my eyes close now to see if I can really feel the rhythm of writing and get into it. Swaying back and forth. The creaking of y boat. The sound of the heater. The blackness of my eyelids.

These are the nights when I want some kind of substance. Alcohol, CBD, nicotine, anything. I just want my reality to be different.

Maybe I should snort marine collagen.

Or maybe I should just go to PCC. Get some treats. Why not? Why not go to PCC and get some nice green juice, maybe some kind of bar, a Clif Bar, maybe some kind of other bar like a Go Macro bar or a kind bar, or maybe go to an actual bar, sidle up to the bar, order a whisky neat, or a whiskey sour, some kind of highball.

I could go walk through Discovery Park right now.

This is what happens when I don’t have a good book to read.

Maybe if I feel OK I should just climb tomorrow.

I have some tea with valerian root. As far as substances go, that might have to do.

I feel like smoking weed or drinking when you’re bored is just so basic.

But existential angst is pretty basic, too.

ok enough of this. tomorrow is monday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

hope all of you are having a wonderful evening.

i promise tomorrow’s post will be worse.