More Shark Week Shit


I swim in ocean. For a long time, over an hour.  I see sharks. This is a Hammerhead. Perfect for Shark Week. Attacks in Florida are on the rise but something else will kill me first. (Statistically speaking).

I love to swim. If I were to die of a shark attack I’d at least of died doing something I love. And I love swimming. I can crawl a mile between 1:10 and 1:45 minutes and that’s in the ocean. It is aggravating to my back but all exercise seems to be. I come outta the florida ocean a brand new woman, filled to the brim with the euphoria caused by endocannabiniods, not endorphins, which are too large a molecule to pass the blood brain barrier and get you high. Can you believe we thought that bit with the endorphins all those years?

Anyhow, I’m at the store today and see a magazine with a big picture of a hammerhead with it’s mouth, it’s cavernous jaw wide open, teeth long, many and sharp. Ok, fine. Do you want me to buy this? I look at price. It’s over 11 bucks, with tax.

What is it about Sharks that gives us that shivery feeling and made Steven Speilberg of Jaws an overnight sensation. We’re scared but we still go in the water.

When I first moved here, I saw a shark in pursuit of an ailing Mantaray. He was black and white, a round body of contrasts, sort of like the high contrast Kosher black and white cookie you get at a deli. (I do miss Nate and Al’s in Beverly Hills and their tongue sandwich with Russian and Cole Slaw on Rye bread).  You could see the two beasts going at each other in the clear water of the breaking surf, you know, when the wave is at its’ peak. They shut down the beach. More recently I ran across a four foot spinner shark. He saw me and quickly reversed direction and ran away.