Steven Spielberg has a lot to answer for. And I’m not just talking about Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal skull. Although, if one were to tally his crimes (against humanity), that might be near the top of list. Deep inside and left of my dark (libertarian) heart1, there were once smoldering embers of hatred that would flare up and fume whenever I were to absentmindedly reminisce about the great trilogies of my childhood (that have since been lured onto a plastic tarp and unceremoniously bludgeoned to death).
[1] three times smaller than a regular heart (In this me and the Grinch are simpatico)
I have since gathered most of this ever-smoking detritus in a bowl (bound with Eldritch magick) and placed it on the creepy looking shrine (to the Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte) that I keep next to my desk. (for easy access)
Actually... now that I think about it this altar is looking a little crowded.
*picks up the little First Order Tie Fighter*
*puts it back on the altar*
“Not quite ready to deal with you yet either”
In ANY event. Steven is also responsible for (one of) my biggest phobias.
This is the Klein River mouth. Klein translated as small from the Dutch. Who, without any doubt in my mind, were the absolute worst at naming features of geography. Perhaps their Protestant work ethic didn’t allow for whimsy. It’s not even that Klein I murmur. Although I suppose when compared to the Rhine… perhaps it is a little on the dinky side. (maybe I’ll walk back my criticism later2)
[2] ‘There’s only two things I hate in this world. People who are intolerant of other people’s cultures and the Dutch ‘
There’s a nice beach here. We would normally opt for the one closer to home, but that one currently has an elephant seal in residence. Who, despite being quite lethargic, is a one point two metric fuck tonne behemoth who commands space (and respect), and really, maybe its just easier to drive fifteen minutes to the other side of town.
The water is on the chilly side, but not cold enough to really hurt you (although my wife would likely disagree). I dive in and swim out to the sand bank, noting that the visibility isn’t great. But this isn’t the North coast2, we don’t have Zambezi’s here. (a regionalism for Bull Sharks, because, I suppose, they would swim up the Zambezi River and cause mischief)
[2] My Marine biologist friend tells me they’ve have just caught the biggest Zambezi/Bull shark on record in the Breede *sigh* (broad) river, which is… one river mouth east of here.
Someone photographed a pair of Stingrays in the lagoon the other day, so while I can stand, (just barely in some places) I make an effort to stroke it out and up the heart rate a little.
Of course the next day someone posts this video on the local group. (I add the musical accompaniment) Apparently two Copper Sharks (Or Bronze Whalers) coming in from the ocean, thrashing it out over the sandbank, and making it into the lagoon…
… which puckers my sphincter and makes all my delicious multi functional appendages and other extraneous protuberances tingle.
I find sharks unreasonably scary.
My whole life (and career) is about risk management and graphing it out would underscore in bold math the ridiculousness of my concerns. But Jaws really stabbed me in the amygdala at a critical developmental point in my life.
I should add it to my list for when I eventually decided to CBT it all out with a therapist (preferably supine on a chaise lounge). I imagine I would have to reframe my concerns or something. ‘Fish are friends’ or words to that effect. (it might be glaringly obvious I don’t really know anything about actual Cognitive behavioral techniques)
Vaguely I wonder if they have to work through a lot of shark related issues. And/or movie franchises that were murdered. Sometimes by their birther. Some weird form of flickicide.
That was quite clever I decide.
(Unusual for me)
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Go Darke 