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I love the holiday season; sentimentality, introspection, wonderment (wide-eyed), and memories of people who walked on earth when I was a youth. To prepare I visited my jetty in Belmar at the Jersey shore and sat for a spell after a walk on the beach close to the foamy cold water. I wanted to catch the wind. My friend, Reckless Ostrich jumped on my shoulder and whispered, “In the chilly hours and minutes of uncertainty, I want to be, in the warm hold of your loving mind.” I appreciated that. I needed that. “For standin’ in your heart, is where I want to be, and I long to be, ah, but I may as well, try and catch the wind.” Thanks to Donovan. If I do catch the wind one day, I’ve got a promise to thyself; to journey to Montana for Christmas Eve; hopefully in a snow storm that winds down just before midnight. No annoying city lights. Just a starry, starry night. Sitting on the jetty(my friend from Seattle who knows who I was a few hundred years ago sent me the pix at the bottom of the blog; a Native American on a jetty-it hauntingly looks like my jetty right now.)

 I saw a lone ship heading to Kilimanjaro(they always seem to go there when I’m here). A few seagulls were nearby. I called out, “Jonathan!” The bird looked at me in recognition. I think every seagull is a Jonathan. They all seem to look alike. I like Jersey seagulls. They’ve got moxie, swagger and confidence. I’m thinking ahead to Christmas Eve on the jetty. There’s nothing like a Jersey jetty jutting out into the ocean. I look left and I’m in the middle of the ocean. I look right and I’m even with the beach which has regained its virgin likeness with just my footprints in the sand. It is desolate here; that’s why I like it now. Every Christmas Eve for the past five decades I watch ‘A Christmas Carol’ starring Alastair Sim; the only Scrooge there ever was in this old town and on this old jetty. The movie is magical. I’m really back in old London town. I’m in Scrooge’s apartment the night that Jacob Marley’s chained ghost came to visit. I’m still scared; I’m under Scrooges’s bed squeezing a post hard. I over heard spirits are going to visit. A seagull just swooped over my head.

I’ve got two hours on the jetty before the sun goes down. Scrooge had two hours before the spirit of Christmas past. Scrooge had a girlfriend he let slip slide away because of good old greed and money. I remember my childhood in Newark: a gift set of Lionel trains that went around and around, finding out Pearl Harbor was a place not a person, and knowing the value of family and siblings. I was a kid; that was long past. I learned the song, ‘Feast of Stephen’ in grammar school. Scrooge had a sister ‘Fan.’ I had a grandmother who fanned my sisters and me with a newspaper because it was hot in Newark during the summer and we were too poor to buy an electric fan or prunes (sounds a bit like Dickens). Then the spirit of Christmas present. The Cratchit’s said bad things about Scrooge. Tiny Tim defended Scrooge. Another ship just entered my horizon as I still think about the movie. The Cratchit’s struggle to survive. Scrooge is so unaware and unfeeling about his environment. I worry on the jetty about Asian tigers becoming extinct in twelve years. I know they’re talking about the problem in St. Petersburg, Russia even as I sit on the jetty. The Wildlife Conservation Society pledged $50 million to save Tigers. Why doesn’t the world do more? All the scenes around Christmas in the movie are cold, black and white, covered with snow. I’m on jetty now, a month before Christmas, wearing just a Rutgers sweatshirt. It’s barely cool. I think about climate change arguments. I laughed on the jetty. I’m glad I was by myself. Jonathan stared though. I think of Scrooge saying, “Humbug.” A nice way to use the ‘bull’ word. Dickens was a gentleman. There were 135 daily rainfall records broken along the east coast in September. 2010 is hottest year ever? In August an island the size of Manhattan broke off from a Greenland glacier. Moscow had a heat wave. One-fifth of Pakistan was flooded. The world responds by not responding.  Global carbon dioxide emissions climb as economy recovers. China loves coal. The Senate failed to pass a climate bill.

 But it’s almost Christmas. And Scrooge is visited by the Spirit of Christmas yet to come. I’m excited but cautious about yet to come. Scientists report partial reversal of age related degeneration in aged mice. Good old telomeres. Good old London town. Wonderful old movie.  Columbia University researchers are using brain-computer interfaces to help computers perform tasks they can’t manage on their own. In the year 2029 a computer will pass human intelligence. Colleges may switch to E-textbooks. A rogue wave just splashed me; woke me up from dreaming. When Scrooge wakes up on Christmas morning, I’ve never seen an actor display such pure joy of being alive. He yells to a little boy to buy a turkey for Bob Cratchit. Alastair Sim was pure ecstasy. He ran all over his apartment because he was really alive and was going to fix and make things right while there is still time. Then to celebrate life and vitality, he stands on his head on a chair; more purist joy. I’ve been waiting patiently to re-create that scene. I’ll know when it’s time. I even know the chair I’m going to use. I can’t wait to watch the movie. I can’t wait for technology to make things better. I can’t wait to wish everybody including Tiny Tim where ever I may find him, “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year.”

 Gift suggestions on website for novel. http://vichywater.net

Also a book trailer link as well.

a Jersey jetty at Belmar?

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Twas a few nights from Thanksgiving and all through the car were feelings of fear, future, failure and fantasy; forty-one years ago. I was driving an old black Chevy. If I still had it, took good care all these years and got historic license plates, the car would be worth a fortune. Maybe I could’ve sold it to George Lucas for ‘American Graffiti.” This blog before Thanksgiving is graffiti. Over the Raritan River on the way to destiny, the car bounded in a single leap. Fear was forgetting to stop at a drug store. Failure was thoughts of sitting all night on a sofa covered with white winter sheets. Future meant this picture of companionship and coupling could be all she wrote until Forest Lawn. Fantasy becomes me. It seemed so much colder back in those ancient days; five short long years after Kennedy passed. Snow flurries special effected my window; a refusal to melt and blow in the wind. A destination sign on the road side: ‘Bradley Beach.’  If you had a summer home at the Jersey Shore and went to Bradley Beach, then you probably made it on up, better than the east side, west side and all around the town. The keys to the summer house were on loan from a best friend. Everything in the trunk was also on loan from a basement back home. I think I shall never see anything as lovely as an abandoned Jersey boardwalk in the near dead of winter. Snow flurries came back with vengeance as we walked up and down the boardwalk. I heard little Joey yelling to ‘Shane’ to come back. Shane and horse disappeared into the mountains. Were they snow covered? Can’t remember. But they were majestic mountains. So was the ocean in front of me. Street lights struggled to shed light on breaking waves but it was easy to hear them; no other sounds to drown out. Do you wonder about red flags and tell tale markers? I asked, “Do you want to be cool and walk on the sand barefoot?”  The reply. “There’s snow flurries. It’s too cold.”

  Back in the car, deflated and pondering a lack of sense of adventure. Moments later on Brinley Avenue, Bradley Beach, in front of a house that resembled Mrs. Bates and Norman’s. A porch went clear around to the back. I looked for a rocking chair then realized they were packed away before winter’s solstice. Wouldn’t it have been  cool to walk barefoot on the beach and to rock in the snow on a chair on a porch? Darkness, silence, and no signs of life; the steps creaked and door squeaked open. I heard Norman telling Marion Crane to take the first cabin. Once inside a cold house, we were greeted by the staircase to upstairs and an ornate wooden railing that Martin Balsam tried to grab after he was stabbed. There was a small table with a doily. A newspaper was folded in half. I knew Marion’s money was inside. It was a pyscho place; a re-creation down to the last detail. The past three months were replete with tell-tale signs. The ambience all around me sent the same message; a scary movie. Life could be a scary movie. You need to pay attention and send messages of gratitude into the universe. Three hours later I ascended to a spiritual place in the quest for manhood right in the heart of the desolate winter Jersey shore. A week later at Thanksgiving, I gave thanks to Bradley Beach and to the spirits which helped me that fateful night. I’ve never seen the movie ‘Psycho‘ again. Four years later the reason for being together with that girl from Bradley Beach had come to an end. But I’ve learned what a wonderful holiday Thanksgiving is: a time to reflect and send vibrations of gratitude into the universe.  

 Absurdities has become a regular feature of my blog. It doesn’t necessarily mean negative to me; just bright bulbs of disbelief(remembering I dislike dim-bulbs). Speak of dim. 32 times more technological progress will take place in the next 50 years than in the last century which could mean that in 2029 a machine will pass human intelligence. We could become a hybrid of bio and non bio intelligence. In the meantime, larger-breasted turkeys are new breeds that were created to produce a larger amount of meat–not a better flavor. The smaller the ratio of breast meat to whole bird, the closer the turkey is to the original model and the more old-fashioned its flavor will be.  Look how far we’ve come with turkey preparation and procreation. Who would’ve ever thought of creating larger breasted turkeys for more meat? Who would’ve ever thought of taking a device out of your pocket and accessing all of human knowledge? It’s Thanksgiving. Years ago it cost $30,000 a year to treat an aids patient with drugs. Now it’s a $100 a year even in remote places. We have 10,000 times more sunlight than we use/need. So maybe (thankfully) in twenty years solar power completely replaces BP and all our oil friends in the world. As the world of information increases so does tranquilizer use. It’s horribly absurd that in twelve years TIGERS could be extinct. There’s a meeting going on in Moscow now to see what can be done to Save the Tiger. Leonardo Di Caprio flew there to be part of it. His Delta plane had engine problems and had to turn around. Meanwhile back in the USSR. In Siberia actually. As the Earth has warmed, the icy ground has begun thawing more rapidly, accelerating the release of methane, a green house gas 23 times more powerful than carbon dioxide, at a perilous rate. Some scientists believe  thawing of the permafrost could become the epicenter of climate change. That’s enough. Time soon for cranberries and “March of the Wooden Soldiers” for the 60th straight year.

 I love Thanksgiving. I love mankind. Ingenuity. Tradition. Hope. Gratitude. Future think. I feel like an antenna now draped in a white toga. I see a toga party. I see mustard staining one toga. I see a bunch of ‘youths'(yewts) on the floor kicking their heels. So I’m grateful this Thanksgiving for wife and son, anti-oxidants, long telomeres, a stationary bike, the universe, spirits, my grandfather and a religious pamphlet I found on a deserted train station bench. Happy Thanksgiving. Oh. That train station bench; the train goes right to the Jersey shore. They call it ‘Jersey Coast line.’

 Holiday Gift Suggestion: All novels gift wrapped, carded, autographed & shipped. Check book trailer(and novel website) at youtube: 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

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In a random act of selectivity of a vhs tape(seems ancient) a few days ago, I found the movie “Peyton Place.” A chord of synchronicity later, I watched it; there’s something nostalgic about a 1940’s storyline(published in 1956) made into a movie, released in 1957(both now vintage in 2010). An army bus pulls up in front of the Peyton Place selective service office. A soldier in fatigues calls out waiting names, checks them off a list as they board and yells “hubba hubba,” to get last inducted stragglers to move faster. Nobody says “hubba hubba” anymore. Maybe bring it back? One lingering kiss goodbye by Ted Carter with Selena and the bus disappeared to the fields of Europe and the Pacific islands. Throughout the movie, I marveled at how simple life was back then. You walked to school in Peyton Place and said hello to neighbors; pushed a little kid in a swing and bent to pet the dog. A woman, with a clothes pin in her mouth, hanging the wash, waved to you. The town doctor waved. A single leaf departed a tree and waved. If you looked carefully there was a gazebo. Wouldn’t it be cool to stick a gazebo in Times Square where they have a pedestrian walk way now? 

 Of course I remembered when “Peyton Place” was first published by Grace Metalious. I was not even a teenager(but close). Everybody was talking(like Nilson’s song)or whispering. The sex scenes were almost a revolution. The lady upstairs told my mother about the book in 1950’s adjectives. I pretended not be listening. She’d let my mother borrow it but mother said no. I used to baby sit for the lady’s little kid. Not that I was devious but curious about words I heard the lady say to my mother. Two weeks later I baby sat and looked all over for the book. My friends told me the best page to read. I did. But I had to read the whole book. A few months later, when the furor abetted, I devised(now devious) a plan to smuggle the book out of her house and take it with me to the Jersey shore and read it on my wonderful Belmar jetty. The book was dropped out of a second floor window(while babysitting) and recovered and put into a small bag and taken to the beach that Sunday with my parents(unsuspecting). Nonchalantly, I took the bag with book to the jetty and got a nice sunburn reading as much as I could.

 Point of story. We’ve come a long way. But not there yet. Life was simple back then. But baseball was barely passed the color barrier and people still had to ride in the back of buses. So life really wasn’t simple. And Peyton Place, despite a lady waving hello to you with a clothes pin in her mouth, was not my kind of town. And look at all I had to go through to read a book. Reminds me of banned in Boston. Thinking about Peyton Place and all its quaintness and simplicity, I thought about the Jersey shore(a couple of words from the tv show made the top word usage list for 2010) and I thought about Spring Lake, New Jersey and how they could’ve almost filmed the movie there. Spring Lake is a unique shore town for the past 100 years with the longest un-commercial boardwalk in Jersey; with a gazebo and all kinds of turn of last century architecture. There’s a Garden Club, Women’s Club and Historical Society. This marvelous town is a best kept secret. I hope I don’t get in trouble for promulgating. I worry about over-promulgating. I wonder if they have a jetty for me. I think Peyton Place did.

 Now to the business of living forever. Lately I’ve been inundated with emails, newsletters and links with never-ending sources; all on living forever. I took an online test to see how long I’m supposed to live, based on my life style:  Here’s the link:

http://www.livingto100.com/

 I’m excited. They got me living to 105 years. And I was honest.  I’ve entered into negotiations with my son on my ultimate disposition; the nursing home versus the basement or a room over garage. I’m a tough negotiator. There is so much out there to extend life and improve it. I think we’re in a race. Sustainability versus singularity. And New Jersey wants to close down certain horse race tracks. New Jersey now has sweat shirts for sale with the governor’s name across the front. Imagine brand naming an up and coming governor who opted out of a new tunnel between New York and Jersey(notice I took the New out of Jersey. I’ve lived here long enough. Hey, we’ve got the ‘Jersey Shore’ MTV and HBO ‘Boardwalk Empire’).

 Back to the business of living forever. Sorry about the digression. Part of the blogging experience for me is to throw stuff out there. Google Alcor Life Extension Foundation, Calorie Restriction(CR) Society International and Gerontology Research Group. On the news front, researchers have shown that an external optical pacemaker can be used in a vertebrate to control its heart rate. Narciclagsine, a natural compound found in daffodil bulbs, may be a powerful therapeutic agent against aggressive forms of brain cancer. Researchers from Wake-Forest have found that drinking beet juice also increases perfusion, blood flow to brain.

 Stephen Hawking said, “The survival of the human race depends on its ability to find homes elsewhere in the universe because there’s an increasing risk that a disaster could destroy Earth as we know it. Humans could have a permanent base on the moon in 20 years and a colony on Mars in the next 40 years. We won’t find anywhere as nice as Earth unless we were to go to another star system.”  Meanwhile exercise is everything. Enough said for now.

 Winding down with my ‘Absurdities’ thoughts: They give tax breaks to strip clubs in Manhattan(i.e. Penthouse Exec Club got a $37,000 tax break) because they ‘remodeled’ a business. It’s estimated a computer the size of a brick fabricated with nanotechnology will be so powerful it can simulate the thought of a billion humans over a period of 5,000 years…in 1 second. At more than 2,000 calories, Applebee’s Crispy Orange Chicken Bowl is equal to 10 doughnuts.

 With nano-technology, health advances and thoughts about living on Mars, I still find the need(deep seeded) to watch ‘Peyton Place,’ and drift back, internalize, dream and wonder about gazebos and people hanging wash in the backyard with clothes pins. I’m going to watch the Sunday papers for sales on clothes pins; the wooden kind; the kind that endures, holds tight and fits between teeth comfortably.

 Holiday Gift Suggestion: All novels gift wrapped, carded, autographed & shipped. Check book trailer(and novel website) at youtube:  

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Back to traditional format. Sort of. Oscillating as I write. So I wrote a first novel(Vichy Water) and I blog around and started novel two. I’d love nothing more than to look in a full length mirror (remember I’m 6′ 5 1/2″) and say, “hey dude, you’re finally a writer.” A contemporary cousin with a few advanced degrees addressed me as ‘dude’ in a recent email(literary license?) I also blog at Jersey Shore Vacations.  http://shorevacations.wordpress.com/   Last week there was interesting piece on winter rental deals.  “A lot of Jersey Shore summer homes are also available for the winter as off-season rentals. And of course the prices are greatly discounted from the summer season. You can either rent monthly, if you’re looking to spend your winter at the shore, or by the weekend for a quick relaxing getaway. Here are a few special deals:

winter rental; 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, living room kitchen and laundry room. Fully furnished, utilities included. $1200 per month( at Bradley Beach, New Jersey).”

I love light bulbs. Bright. Incandescent. I don’t like dim bulbs. A bulb(almost a nova, when it’s brightest before bad news and cursing) went off cerebrally. Wouldn’t it be loverly if I could rent that Bradley Beach house? A month would be perfect. January at Jersey shore. Swirling thoughts of solitude, solemnity and substance. Pure ocean and snowy sand, near my lonely Belmar jetty. I could write, meditate, ponder spirit which also swirls and stare at the majesty of the mid-winter Atlantic just across the street. Utilities included! It might be cheaper to be there than here. Why spend money birding to Florida when I can bike ride to Bradley?  Another bright bulb. Henry David Thoreau spent two years at Walden Pond. And no I’m not him. On the other hand; introspection, examination and wonderment. I keep staring at the picture of Thoreau’s cabin and the Jersey shore house. Henry’s( I feel a bonding) cabin wasn’t in the wilderness but at the edge of town; same as my Bradley Beach house, perhaps eight blocks from Main Street and Vic’s Pizza. Henry believed in the spiritual benefits of a simplified lifestyle. So do I. Ain’t nothing quite like hanging around Sedona’s red rocks, blue sky and green forests for a week. I wouldn’t farm, clear land or chop wood like Henry did but I would walk on a wooden boardwalk and brave the cold sand barefoot to make a point about my virility. We know his writing at Walden was his most productive. Give me wifi and a Bradley beach house and I’ll produce; great words for an agent. I’d even read classics(The Illiad) at night, forgoing CNN, Larry and Anderson and Jon on Comedy. Of course my family would visit on weekends, maybe with a fresh Caesar salad. Thoreau was able to hear a train whistle from his cabin which interrupted his pastoral life. The joys of my rented Bradley Beach house: If I opened a rear window(Hitchcock?), I’d be able to hear a NJ Transit train as well, lumbering into the station eight blocks away. Am I dreaming? Am I in bizarro world with Henry Thoreau?  Sounds do interrupt. I’ve got ocean on wintry shore across the street. Henry had owls and frogs. I might be able to hear the bridge over the Shark River sounding a rising and lowering. Thoreau was once arrested for failure to pay taxes. I don’t mess with IRS; besides I’m a starving author. Speaking of starving; Thoreau talked about the animal instinct in man which makes us eat meat. So a person who refrains from meat eating might truly be answering to a higher authority. Thoreau was a vegetarian(he thought it the highest form of self restraint) (I haven’t had any red meat since 1975 for self restraint as well and 111 cholesterol). More similar bizarro world. He liked tea(I take green tea capsules daily) and he didn’t drink. Me too. His cabin solitude helped examine Industrial Revolution consumerism and materialism; a pretty ‘with it guy’ for the mid 1800’s. I think about Western living(not Texas) as well. A month in Bradley Beach; I could nail novel three. And I now easily revere Henry David Thoreau.

To conclude on a lighter(?) note. Absurdities noticed in passing before I get to winter and Bradley Beach. The Dallas Cowboys website was down for a few days (on the heels of firing their coach.) Reason: the owner probably forgot to renew their domain name. The feds now endorse eating cheese in one bad breath and in the other talk about American obesity. Speaking of feds. There’s a new proposal for cigarette packaging to have the following warnings on each pack(50% of space) with a graphic picture: (since Canada did this, smoking went down 20%)

WARNING:  Cigarettes are addictive.
WARNING:  Tobacco smoke can harm your children.
WARNING:  Cigarettes cause fatal lung disease.
WARNING:  Cigarettes cause cancer.
WARNING:  Cigarettes cause strokes and heart disease.
WARNING:  Smoking during pregnancy can harm your baby.
WARNING:  Smoking can kill you.
WARNING:  Tobacco smoke causes fatal lung disease in nonsmokers.
WARNING:  Quitting smoking now greatly reduces serious risks to your health

I wonder how they fit all this on a pack of cigarettes. I actually wonder about the word absurdity.

I read somewhere twitter mood predicts the stock market. Tweets can be used to predict stock market movements up to 6 days in advance. One algorithm called the Google-Profile of Mood States(GPOMS) records the level of six states: happiness, kindness, alertness, sureness, vitality, and calmness. I’m calm. Researchers found that there is a correlation between Dow Jones Industrial Average and one of the GPOMS indices: calmness.

One last comment: Swiss pharmaceutical company Novartis AG is developing a pill containing an embedded microchip, which it hopes to submit for regulatory approval in Europe within 18 months. The chip is activated by stomach acid and transmits information to a patch attached to the patient’s skin, which then sends it on to a doctor via the Internet or a smartphone. One of my favorite movies and books. “1984”

So much to say. So many miles to go before I sleep. Wish I could go to grandmother’s house this Thanksgiving. I wish I had remembered to remember to remember that one day I’d remember thinking about grandmothers and grandfathers and spending more time with them and asking them more questions. The fact that I didn’t remember is the most extreme hurtful absurdity that I’ll remember.

Pictures are included at bottom; show and tell. Proposed Bradley Beach House and Henry David Thoreau’s cabin. Draw your comparisons.

Oh if you’ve got 65 seconds please visit youtube:  novel’s book trailer(and the website http://vichywater.net   for book gift suggestions for the holidays)

trailer:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

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I don’t dilettante in politics(much). this is the morning after. i did think of booking passage on the s.s. poseidon. a special cruise. departs from pier 63 in manhattan. but only if there are snow flurries forecast. sails by the Statue of Liberty and underneath the Verrazano bridge then down along the jersey shore where it drops anchor. the ship rises with the tide. passengers can behold the abandon of the jersey shore in autumn-scapes and watch ships at the horizon sail to kilimanjaro and a place called reason. the captain is special; wears a cape and a mask and doesn’t allow gambling.

I sit here contemplating spring planting season and how certain human beings elected a county sheriff who saw nothing wrong with a young innocent boy mysteriously dying in his jail with his people and media too busy with charlie sheen coverage. i do rejoice to see a certain mayor not elected. i learned after decades on earth, the hard dull bitterness of a first-hand lesson what corruption is all about(albeit on a tiny scale). run dick. see jane. why jersey stings throw some mayors in jail. run spot. i went with good old spot to a jersey shore environmental conference. elected officials present. i am a bit of an environmentalist so i run to learn. after the lunch i met a mayor(of a shore town) at the good old coat rack and told that mayor that i wrote a novel(Vichy Water) that features some jersey shore towns. me and my character spent part of a lifetime hanging by the ocean and still do. a tribute to the jersey shore. i said,  “hey, when the book gets made into a movie, think of all the publicity and activity your town will get.” and the mayor said, “i want to read it.” and i gave the mayor a business card with all the ordering information and said, ” and this struggling author appreciates that.” we shook hands. i stared at the lobby of this incredible building and felt history. i also felt ‘the shining.’ a nearby stranger said, “the mayor was waiting for a free book. free is how you deal with elected officials in jersey. that’s the way it’s done. he’ll never order it.” and that’s exactly what happened. spot, dick and jane are now sitting in front of the television(played hooky from school) watching the analysis of the election. i’m listening instead to “puff, the magic dragon.”

Spiral down. so many things bump, shake and move me. i think blogs should educate too. i keep shoving stuff into my cortex, medulla oblongata and seek ways to expand gig space up there. part is life extension. seems successful. i’m at that age when a glass of dark red wine at night, a cut orange peel shoved between my teeth for a pumpkin effect so i can gently scare my grandchild( the reality of grandchildren right now is as remote as that mayor still ordering my novel). instead i shove nano bits into cerebral circulation. and i write blogs and novels. and i deeply feel. hemingway said to write well, you need to live it. so i spiral down. and throw bumps and bits like: blekko is a new search engine coming monday. i like that it aims to show search results from only useful, trustworthy sites.

Extending life; good stuff for a blog. now a spiral up. i learned last night that one of my intellectual singularity idols worried about getting diabetes. takes 100 or so ‘pills’ a day with lots of exercise. and it worked. no diabetes. epiphany a long time ago. by my own design been doing 35 to 40 ‘pills’ a day for 40 years(as long as some biblically wandered) with massive exercise and no diabetes which was the point. just read( i read a bunch) that a popular chipotle chicken sandwich has around 1000 calories and 2400 mg of sodium(salt) (more than enough for a whole day). sodium kills. so now here this. researchers working with mice discover that removing a protein from the region of the brain responsible for recalling fear(hmmm. thinking futuristic movie ‘total recall’), they can permanently delete traumatic memories. so imagine a company that makes a terribly unhealthy sandwich, adulterates their food with something to remove that protein and you forget why your blood pressure is sky high. more on proteins. there’s one called perforin that punches holes in and kills rogue cells in our bodies. that’s good stuff. and finally an experimental drug, reverses age-related memory loss in mice, returning brains to more youthful state of cognitive function. the compound dampens production of stress hormones that are thought to damage the brain’s learning and memory centers over time. that’s why i don’t stress(spiral down) after election day and i don’t worry about sodium because i’ve found ways to eliminate it. hey readers. it’s estimated 2 billion earthlings will be on line by end of this year. imagine. and i miss John Lennon. and i miss Bette Davis and i wonder why there is no award in college sports named after Paul Robeson. and that thought makes me spiral down on this day after elections.

if you’ve got 65 seconds please check out novel’s book trailer on youtube(you can  order/gift the book too):   @youtube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

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