Mirrorland

 Back when I was a kid, at 348 Portlock Road, we used terms like looking-glass and writing-paper and "one" does this or that or thinks this or that. And we had the sort of handheld mirrors that debutantes would primp themselves by, and of course I had one, in case the one in my bedroom surrounded by seashells wasn't enough. 

So one day I went to Mirrorland. This is easy when you only see kind of well out of one eye and your relationship with binocular vision is theoretical at best. 

I took a handheld mirror and I placed it beside my head and I navigated by looking into it only. Everything was flipped. Our Portlock place was big, with front, back, and side yards, and now I had an additional space just as big. 

It was very disorienting. Even more so than spinning on the swing in an area of the very large back yard we called "Makalani Palaced" after one of our dogs, a female Basset hound we'd named Makalani. 

Well, I felt like this today. Pissed my unders so I was Donald Duckin' it until I'd trimmed all nails all around, treated sleeping bag and futon with Frebreze, changed clothes, yadda yadda ya teacha' ya maddah. 

Plus I'm all dinged up. Big ol' scuff under my bad eye, signs of Thai elbow boxing on both elbows, scratches and dent all over, and most annoyingly, I must have sat down on something hard because I've got a massive bruise on my right ass cheek. 

So I feel like I've been to Mirrorland, with extra tune-ups and beefs. Cracks and nacs nacs. 

I finally got my lazy ass, feeling like lead, going around maybe 8:30 to go up to H mart for that essential, sake, and some of those wonderful ark shells and cooked chilled mung bean sprouts and even a bottle of Asahi "Dry" beer. 

I'm blaming the lobster. The last time I had lobster it was tails only and I'm pretty sure it was the good old Pacific Spiny variety, the kind I used to find the moults of on the beach on good old Portlock Road back when the Portlock Pier was a thing that terrified parents and delighted us kids. But it was an East Coast type lobster I bought and a bit over  a bound, yielding 9 oz. of meat and "butter". 

I had a lobster salad and lobster miso soup the next day and both were umami, but I have a theory: Said lobster was farmed, in China, and was fed any damn thing. Human crap? Why not, it's nutritious and both we back in Hawaii up in the valleys and the Plains Indians had dogs around to clean up that opala. 

Why not heavy metals? Why not any damn thing? I read recently on Reddit about a guy catching crabs in the Ala Wai and selling 'em to restaurants.