Minobot 2

This is day three since the end of the second trip esoterically and affectionately referred to as "Minobot 2: Hawaii". More accurately, it is +55 hours 32 minutes since my girlfriend's return landing on the still glacial but gradually thawing Thoth-scape of planet Canada. Her soul still reeling in along the Pacific Ocean's pineapple express, along with half a flash disk's worth of jpeg-coded memories from my old Nikon. The smell of wet hair. The smile of sea salt pinkened eyes just before a long kiss. The full mammalian heat of another cocooned in bed, time counted not in precise ticking LEDs at the corner of a screen but passing in the flowing rhythm of breaths, moist verses of love tingling the ear punctuated by the call-response chorus of shared ecstasy cascading through channels that were dead for years. Ambient tides of consciousness drawn along the continuum of brilliant sunset and glimmering moonlight.

But each time, when you're in a long distance relationship there's something that doesn't come back. That doesn't return once the haze of jet lag, cultural and climatorial dissonance clears, that you can't beam across on Facebook or Flickr, that isn't misplaced on a lamp stand and Fed Exed up a week later. We'd known each other passingly, the occasional IM chat, for about two years on an online message board, and have been together (as digitally possible) for the past ten months and it has been truly wonderful. But as profoundly miraculous and earth-shifting things like Skype video chat and online communities are for potential connections and the world as a whole, there are some things that get lost in the translation to those mediums. Unfortunately, neither of us are quite in the position to immigrate just yet, however we are working on it. Each time we meat it's like that brief and Japanesely evanescent moment in Benjamin Button when Benjamin and Daisy are exactly the same age. It's a week of deeply analog and intense togetherness to make up for so many months of physical absence, a series of honeymoons. And this time has been particularly amazing, and not just because it was in Hawaii. But then it always ends, and every time the tear hurts more, this trough being very tough for both of us. Reverting back to my old patterns, everything felt strange and empty. The internet and books seemed dull and distant, even food seemed not to taste as good. Neither of us had spent more than an hour in front of a screen the whole time and our eyes and necks hurt, as though that extended nervous system for navigating the world of text, image and Youtube had to be re-evolved. Her missingness in my bed is almost palpable now, without all those little nuances of the physical, the warm rhythm of presence. It has gradually improved though, especially since we are still audio and visually connected.

We're counting back down to launch again, Minobot 3 in T-minus approximately five months, this time my turn to fly. But soon we'll make the full and permanent relationship evolution to meatspace.

GR's fantastic Minobot 2 photoset






Also, apologies dear readers, I forgot to the post this entry, from the first day.

Minobot 2 hath commencethed, two hours British Columbia jet lag and GR is playing circadian tag in the Green Room next to my 486 motherboard Death Star sets, delayed soul tractor beaming in along transistor valleys.

A relatively relaxed day. We were all over each other at the airport, then came back to the labyrinth, set her stuff down, had a brief nap (among other things), then took a scenic tour through downtown Honolulu to my second favorite secret bodysurfing spot, *Point Panic. (Obama's is also my #1 favorite but it was kinda a bit too scenic a drive for today (30 mi), but we'll get there) Point Panic also happens to be the Mecca of Japanese tourist-wedding photography (perhaps taking its name from the sweaty oriental grooms). The location of Panic provides the perfect photogenic parallax of a happy couple's entwined form against a postcard-sized Diamond Head and Waikiki. (Funnily enough, the exquisite angle is partially a result of Point Panic being the largest landfill, extending the beach some half-mile out to sea, for a panoramic view of south Oahu.)

Surf was somewhat up, but unfortunately, the onshore breeze was tearing down the perfect 2-4 sinusoidal swells into hairy webs of white noise. So, I opted to sit with GR at the edge of the boulder-wall, out of the frame of any marital photography, and just take in the tropical ocean and sun with her. Quite literally at times, the onshore breeze was a bath of fresh sea salt as the waves burst upon the rocks. Very pleasant.

We stopped at Zippy's a must-eat for the world-famous chili, Portuguese bean soup, and a taste of the unique Hawaiian 'mix-plate' cuisine style. (I also used to wear the Zippy's chili bucket on my head while ripping on the guitar with Junk magic at Chinatown art-bars, GR remembered.)

Back at base we had Meet The Parents 2, which went over quite well despite a little anxiety initially about the mom-girlfriend talk. (My parents both like GR, you are totally in the green hun! My sister too of course. Smile ) Exchanging of gifts, the Canadian 'Sasquatch Droppings' chocolates were a hit, introductory chatting. We all even all got to kick out the plastic jams on the new national sport: Guitar Hero World Tour. I of course performed the opening ceremonies with a bit of Dragonforce, then mom, dad, sis, and GR all joined the band. GR's got an amazing voice, rocked the house with the Fleetwood Mac. Dad would've taken us back to Hotel California if it didn't require so many shots, instead telling it like is with Steely Dan's 'Do It Again' (me on virtual sitar). Games, anthems, and bonding, good times.

I am amazingly happy GR is here and it still hasn't quite sunk in yet.