Fast-Talking Dolphin

"Eric Anderson can't believe his eyes—or his ears! What is a dolphin, a rhyme-talking dolphin, doing in a New England trout pond? Simple. Wallingford Ullingham Lowell, the Third—Wallingford for short—claims he was on his way to a big oceanography conference. Somehow he fell out of his plane into the pond near the Anderson's farm. As Eric and the exasperating Wallingford become friends, Eric's life gets crazier and crazier. Then mean Mr. Benson, who owns the pond, finds out about Wallingford. Can Eric save Wallingford? Will Wallingford ever leave that trout pond alive?"

I'm thinking Shia LaBeouf in the lead role as Eric Anderson and perhaps, oh let's just say Steve Buscemi as that Fast-Talking Dolphin. Come on, Hollywood, clearly if you have time to make Old Dogs, you can spare a million or so to make Fast-Talking Dolphin! Get to work, damnitt! Why not? I came across this gem on my tangerine-color painted childhood bookshelf in the attic. It's such a blatant Flipper meets Look Who's Talking rip-off that I can barely breathe. I've so many questions as to why this book came to be and, more importantly, WHY was I allowed to own it. And how exactly is he "Fast-talking" when the emphasis is clearly on the fact that he rhymes? Author Carson Davidson has a lot of explaining to do. Are there slower-talking, non-rhyming dolphins? Perhaps a Lethargic-Talking, Haiku Dolphin? I'd read THAT book. Just saying, Mr. Davidson. Here's a direct quote from that precocious fast-talking dolphin: "I don't care much for people—they talk all the time. What they say is a bore, and they can't even rhyme."

Up yours, Wallingford.

Jonathan’s Fuzzy Page

I've always been one for collecting things. It's a bad habit and one that, for the most part, has dwindled over the past years. The things I collect these days are relatively small: Random Buttons, Polaroids, Bad Puns, Pictures of Owls, photo booth pictures, obscure records, MUNI fast passes. I suppose as I got older, my propensity for collecting took a less conventional turn, as evidenced in the last sentence. I gave up on collecting toys, comics, trading cards, Pez dispensers, and other items capable of "appreciated value" and instead moved my collecting focus from these "might be worth something someday" items to collecting things that really only meant something to me in the long-run.

I recently came across one of my earliest collections, if not the first, in the attic. There was a period of my childhood during which I collected stickers and I put those that I collected in a blue marble-patterned photo album entitled "Photo Album."

There's a strange logic to this album. I began by sorting my stickers into Month categories, beginning, for whatever reason, with September, or "Sept" as I felt the need to abbreviate all my Month Page titles. Even at 7 or 8 I was looking aspiring toward time management. Not all the month pages made sense. Sept is where I put my Halloween stickers (apparently, I couldn't wait); Oct. was dedicated to horses and Unicorns; May features neon pink stickers of feet; and July is for Gypsies and Warlocks. Once I started making a page, I was adamant about not straying from the theme. Apr. was for bunnies and NOTHING ELSE. Eventually, in making my special album, I ran out of months and this is where things took a more or less creative turn. The original titles and spelling have been preserved.

"Jonathan's Fuzzy Page"

"Jonathan's Words Page"

"1^st Rate!" "I'm Innocent." "I Love E.T." "Daily Hugging and Kissing are Good for the Heart." "Macho." (most likely to offset the other, not-so-macho stickers)

"Jonathan's Winter Page"

Apparently I had more to say after Dec.

"Jonathan's Shinnny Page"

All things glittery and sparkly

"Miss Bosworth's Scrach and Snifh Sticker Page and Plane Stickers"

That spelling is almost embarrassing. Miss Bosworth was my second grade teacher with a penchant for awarding stickers for good behavior, teeth brushing, hand-raising…basically anything you did would earn you a sticker and she's probably the reason why I felt the need to make this album in the first place. It's also evident that this was my favorite page and the jewels of my collection. And no, I'm not sure what I meant by "plane stickers."

Conclusion: Perhaps my tendency to collect odd things (or oddly collect things) began here after all…at least it seems the "logic" was in place.

A straightforward forward (is that too forward?)

My family has a lot of shit.

A strong percentage (at least 80%) of the Oliveses are what you’d call “hoarders.” I’ve tried to reconcile this by trying my hardest not to hold onto things from the past that don’t need to be saved. I throw away or give away or sell what I can, but as a kid, I amassed a lot. Not that I was greedy or spoiled, mind you, it’s just that I was…well…ok, I may have been a little spoiled. I’m paying for that now as I (perhaps wrongly) volunteered to clean my family’s attic.

The past 10 years or so of my life have been relatively clutter-free. I’ve enjoyed having the extra room to do with what I will, without the burden or guilt associated with the nagging thought that “I just might need this” which prevents even the most conservative of us to hold onto items well after their expiration date. For those 10+ years, I’ve done a fairly good job of detouring that question with the bulk of my inanimate objects. I attribute that success mainly to the fact that I occupied relatively small spaces in a big city full of lots of people and lots of things. In those situations, it’s easier to let go. In those situations, it’s easier to toss/sell/give away.

Now I’ve moved home (temporarily) and my old ghosts of inanimate objects past have come to haunt me and the existential shoulder tap of “you just might need that” (when I most likely won’t ) has returned as I sort through the wreckage of my parent’s attic.

It’s my belief that cataloguing the most amusing of these items will help bring me the much needed closure I require to live, once more, stuff-free.

Welcome to the Olives Attic