There was an urge to panic. My body wanted to go vertical and stick my head out of the water while my arms flailed. I wasn't in danger of drowning, I told myself. I was just trying to learn how to breath on my left side while doing the crawl.
The idea came to me at a hotel pool in early December with a shock of terror. I had a long-time student who liked to swim, and I wanted to get the sort of exercise you can't get in a hotel pool. My student was learning techniques for long-distance swimming. Maybe he'd tell me about them. We could have lunch and coffee afterward. Maybe we'd be friends.
That's the sort of weight I tend to put on plans like this, which is why they're so hard to act on. Listening to that fear, I'd close myself up in the attic of my apartment. But other people keep us sane. I needed1 to get out more. Some exercise wouldn't hurt, either.
So, there I was in Sofia's "Palace of Sport," failing to breath bilaterally. I'd take in a breath under my right elbow, stretch my arm, pull it under me...two, three...and I'd remember a moment too late that my face was supposed to be under my left armpit now. What was I doing? Why wasn't there fresh air in my lungs already? Where had all this water come from??!?
The Palace of Sport is actually just around the corner from my office and admission is 8 leva. I'd wanted for years to establish a routine of going there, but only managed to do it once or twice. It just seemed like such a drag to get my swim stuff together and go there and change. The showers are cold and the bathroom is colder. "Here, flip-flops and swim hats are worn," demands the little old lady at the desk, and you'd better not forget it.
And then, what? You splash back and forth for a while? When do you stop? There's a clock on the wall, but I'm so nearsighted, I can't read it. What if I spend too much time in the pool and miss my next class? Worse, what if I haven't spent enough time in the pool and I'm bored? What are you supposed to think about, there in the chlorine, one lap after another?
Bilateral breathing! That's what you think about. "Now we are men," my swim-buddy as we exited the frigid showers. And, you know, he can see the clock without glasses. At lunch, we talked about our kids and long-distance swimming techniques. The proper way at which elbows should be bent and wrists twisted. Kicking is not so important for long distances. What's happening with the social contract between China's government and its citizens? How about the US? The EU? How do we get our kids to read more?
On Tuesday nights I dive into bed, exhausted. On Wednesdays, inspiration sparks between the new connections I've made. Take a deep breath, and stretch your arm into another stroke.
In other news, Fellow Tetrapod continues with new weird creatures every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. This week, you can get the Extrusians for free on Royal Road or for a dollar on Patreon, the Sprocket.
"The River God," the short comic that I edited for Simon Roy is now up on his Patreon. It's about bitterness growing monstrous over deep time, and it can be yours for three shiny dollars. More to come from that direction, soon, but in the mean time, here's a meme!
Where will you post this guy, eh?
Finally, there's a new short story on Patreon about mice. I'm thinking about where else I want to post it. It's a political story, which makes it frightening. But shouldn't I do what frightens me? Didn't I just write a whole newsletter about just that thing? Gentle readers, what's your advice?
And I read some books
Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton -
I last read Jurassic Park when I was in middle school, and this time around my favorite parts were the technical details. "I can't fix the code because the lead developer didn't leave comments!" "I'm secretly happy the dinosaurs can breed because that means I reconstructed something like real animals." "Of course it's obvious you'd need to use auxiliary power to charge the capacitors before you can start the main generator turbines."
Endless Forms Most Beautiful by Sean B. Carroll -
I learned about this book from "Evo Devo," a song by acapellascience, and I have to say, I like the song better. Maybe all the surprises were already spoiled for me, because I didn't find much in the book that I didn't already know. I'd recommend that Song and Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin.
Renegade Mage and Heretic Mage by Inadvisably Compelled -
I try not to read more than one book in a given series per month, but these things are like popcorn. I haven't been this entertained since Will Wight's Cradle books. Our hero Callum keeps trying to go live quietly somewhere, but his conscience won't let him. He kills some bad guys and he gets in even more trouble with the corrupt magical government. I enjoy the magic and worldbuilding, and the characters are fine, but most of all I appreciate the pace and the craftsmanship of the plot. Keep going, IC!
The Scarab Mission by James L. Cambias -
This book is the sequel to The Godel Operation, which introduced a sprawling, far-future solar-system and a secret that spanned its history and might destroy it. The stakes of The Scarab Mission are much smaller, and it felt as if Cambias was playing in the sandbox he'd made. The story was occasionally inspired (the finger biting part was delightfully horrible), but the inspired pieces didn't link together. There was a lurking sense of "why does any of this matter?" But I read this on a long plane trip, and didn't mind it so much when the guy in front of me jammed the back of his seat into my knees. So thank you, Cambias.
Nightside the Long Sun by Gene Wolfe -
This is a beautiful book that I didn't appreciate nearly enough when I read it for the first time in high school. It follows Patera Silk, a priest on a generation ship. Silk's religion, it quickly becomes clear, is a cult of personality for the dictator who commissioned the ship to be built and installed a digital copy of his mind into its computers. His wife, children, and mistress got to be gods and goddesses too. But none of that matters, because Patera Silk finds real meaning in what he does. He had a religious experience and now he has a church to save.
A second paragraph?? Yes. The cover art that Richard Bober's painted for these books deserve special mention. Even in high school I thought they were gorgeous. Now I can't think of any book covers I like more.
1 Past tense? Ha!
See you next month
I was reading Garrison Keillor's Substack, and inspiration struck me. So surprise and happy February. Here's a very short story.
Once upon a time there was a Democrat Mouse. They lived in a big city with excellent public transportation and plenty of vegan restaurants. Their incisor teeth were filed down and their fur was styled in the most supportive patterns and colors. And yet, they felt something was missing from their life.
In the suburb of that same city, where the gas was cheap and the sidewalks nonexistent, there lived a Republican Mouse. He went to the gym every day to pull heavy weights and practice biting. His teeth were stronger and yellower than anyone's, but he couldn't ignore a certain longing.
Life felt stale, crusted, empty of nourishment. Things couldn't go on like this. A change of scenery might offer a solution, or at least a distraction.
And so, the Democrat Mouse and the Republican Mouse decided to take a vacation. Not together, of course. They shared no acquaintances and had no forums in common. They simply set out on the same day, each mouse headed toward the home of the other. In the middle, they met.
What a freak, thought the Republican Mouse. She's shaved off half her fur and dyed the other half green. And all those tattoos. Filed her teeth down? Is this what mice are turning into? Grandpa was right.
And the Democrat Mouse looked at the Republican Mouse, thinking, I'm in danger. Look at those muscles. Look at those teeth. Those mean little eyes. That mouse could run me down and bite right through my spine. I've read about how that happens.
They froze, bristling.
If I call the police, thought the Democrat Mouse, they'll be on his side. They'll help him eat me.
If she takes a picture of me, thought the Republican mouse, that's it. Life over. Nobody will hire me and I'll starve.
In the windows of the houses and apartments around them, blinds twitched. Camera lenses pointed, and behind those lenses crouched yet more mice. They watched in their millions, waiting for something —anything! —to end.
Mouse pictures from Phylopic
Daniel M. Bensen