Nurse the Hate: The Gill Net

Now that I have taken my last WSET Diploma exam, I find myself lacking purpose.  I might have the cart way in front of the horse on this.  Frankly, I might have failed that last exam.  It’s entirely possible, especially after what I noted when I saw the posted exam afterwards.  It is possible that I answered one of the three essay questions incorrectly based entirely on a language nuance.  That would be very disappointing but not completely unexpected.  I have always been a man that sees things in “color”, not “colour”.  Fucking Yank I am.  (Said in a Dickensian accent)  I do hold out hope even if that essay answer disaster comes to pass.  I did perform better than I expected on the tasting portion of the exam.  Not only did I identify one of the wines correctly by type (Champagne NV) but I noted the actual wine (Pol Roger).  That must count for something besides the obvious point that I have had too damn much Pol Roger champagne.

I need to focus on accomplishing something challenging while I wait the ridiculous amount of time for my test results.  I can’t make my next “wine move” until I know if I passed the Diploma.  There is nothing to do but wait and it’s killing me.  I look around me and everyone seems content doing nothing but watching TV, punching the time clock, and going to Wal Mart for synthetic food.  How do they do it?  It appears that they have achieved a Zen acceptance of boredom and won’t let me in on the secret.  They are on a life time pleasure cruise and I am on an endurance run on a fixed gerbil wheel.  It will be impossible for me to continue if I don’t do something.  I have to keep moving ahead like a shark.  Perhaps this can be taken as evidence of self motivation like a Nike advertisement.  Just do it baby!  Of course, the downside is also realizing that the shark never is allowed rest but just constantly swims until death. With luck I can get caught in a gill net and finally relax.

I am committed to diving with sea monsters very soon off a remote island in the Pacific Ocean.  I locked in with a stranger via money sent on the internet.  What could be safer?  The dive I talked this guy into sounds absurd.  I can’t believe he thinks I am as experienced as I vaguely alluded to in our brief email exchanges.  All I know is I will be required to drop down to a challenging depth very quickly while navigating the unpredictable currents and hope the visibility isn’t too limited or there is a decent chance of drifting right through the bull shark feeding grounds like I am on a sushi conveyer belt.  That would be disappointing but admittedly is very exciting.  If you stop seeing blog posts after a week or so, it probably means I fucked up out there.  If I get my arms chewed off, I can probably tap something out while using a chopstick in my mouth on the keyboard.  It will take a week or so to get the handle of it I am sure.  Stay tuned on that front.

I also discovered that the day after doing a Nashville gig with Hillbilly Casino it will be convenient to do something called Halo Jumping in Memphis.  I forget what HALO stands for beyond “high altitude” for the first two letters.  I’m not very well researched about it, just enthusiastic enough to commit mentally to the idea.  The gist of it is that I can jump out of an airplane at 30,000 feet.  The altitude is so high that it is necessary to have an oxygen mask on, which I think plays into my favor with my experience (or lack thereof) in scuba.  It is three times higher altitude than the free fall I did previously.  It’s like jumping out of a commercial jet flight when a kid is kicking the back of your seat over Memphis.  Pretzels sir?  “Not only do I not want pretzels, I am leaving.”  This seems like exactly the type of thing I need on my calendar to fill the unfillable void.  Shove it in the box.

I will be with the band, so it will be prudent if I can get full band buy in.  Granted, this is a somewhat extreme activity that might not appeal to everyone.  I know I can talk Leo into it in about six seconds.  He will likely not even remember agreeing to it as they zip him up into whatever illusionary safety gear is required.  I will feel somewhat responsible speaking at his memorial service when he inevitably forgets to follow directions and plunges to his death.  The upside is if we take video and get it shown on international news channels, it should help album sales.  That’s taking one for the team!  I should write a song called “Subterranean Homesick Skydiving Accident” right now to prepare.

I am eventually going to run out of dangerous things to do that I can still survive.  Is “lava surfing” a thing?  What about “amateur space exploration”?  Hopefully I passed that wine test and can see if I can keep moving ahead on that to Yoda Level.  It has to be a better idea than going over Niagara Falls in a barrel.  I wonder if when a shark gets caught on that gill net he thinks “Damn, I didn’t see that net.  Well, ...that’s it.  Phew.  I can stop swimming now.  I’m glad it’s finally over.  I didn’t know how much more I could take.”