notes from the kelp

…click to listen:

…about the music

Breach of contact.

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Ok, let’s begin with this important message from your sponsor: I’m not complaining. No sirree. I’m very fortunate to have this, uh, problem.

Now that we’ve got that established, here’s my commentary for the day: living in a glass house at the edge of the sea during tourist whale-watching season, it’s easy to begin to feel a bit like a zoo exhibit myself. Not that anyone’s bothering to look at me on the other side of my windows, as I steadily put notes in what I deem to be the correct order, or type words in what are only occasionally the correct order. No, the people who are standing on the decks of boats only yards offshore from this house, aiming their binoculars in my exact direction and, for even greater intimidation, often pointing and laughing as well, are actually not looking at me at all.

They are looking at what is between me, and them: a vibrant moment of fascinating sea life, or perhaps some compelling geology that I cannot see myself, because it lurks at the base of the outcropping directly beneath me. From time to time I remind myself of this and am thankful that I’m not more of a deranged paranoid schizophrenic than I already am. But the sense of being stared at directly by a boat-load of strangers with high powered lenses and zoom-enabled cameras, has definitely been enough to encourage me to throw on some clothes before getting to work (sorry, folks*). And, to make me want to call up Paris Hilton and snag some tips on how to handle the orcarazzi.

A nice couple, on their afternoon troll.

On a recent warm day, I was working with the doors wide open. At the precise moment in which I finished writing down a particularly lovely chord, I heard a sudden burst of oohs, ahhs, and gasps of delight. Yes! I had indeed done an utterly magnificent job with that chord, I must say; the tricky harmonic transition from what came before was stunningly masterful. Thank you, thank you… uh… er… Looking up, I saw the tourists, the boats, and… the acrobatic Orcas. I was crestfallen to realize that it wasn’t my stunningly masterful-and-brilliant lovely chord that elicited such an immediate and stirring reaction, after all. My ego is frail, y’know.

Whale watching boats in the far-ground, glow-in-the-dark aliens on the sill in the foreground. Natch.

Stand, point, aim, shoot. No, not at me…

The scene from my deck, shortly before the orcarazzi discovered they were eating at this restaurant.

A fin time for the whole family!

* On a note unrelated to anything about whales, but rather, having to do with above-mentioned nudity at work (and who wouldn’t love that topic?), I commented on this little moment of daily life a few years ago, back in a previous lifetime when my home, my muses, and I were in Malibu, CA.