Wednesday, August 31, 2005

THE IDIOTS.

Tell me why people who write customer reviews on sites like Amazon and Netflix are utterly twerpish amoebas?

Why write a review quoting or paraphrasing or illustrating in utter detail plots of movies or books.. the endings of movies or books.. and/or special surprises/twists in movies or books? WHY? Just because you want to act like you're so much higher than the outcome of that medium? Because you're so much better than the creators that you want to ruin the experience for the others who could have enjoyed the suspense without your utter disrespect and/or lack of foresight?

THE IDIOTS!

btw, I'm still up in the air about getting the Kanye CD. I wasn't blown away with Common's Be like everyone else. And I can't stand listening to someone's ego when they really aren't as sick as they like to pretend - even if the content is "conscious."

Ulam cooked @ 12:11 AM

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Tuesday, August 30, 2005

There was an episode of Friends where Ross was feeling like a freak for having 3 divorces. Phoebe tried to ease his concerns by randomly surveying 3 women at Central Perk. One of the women had this tendency to date uh.. unstable guys. So anyway, at the end of the survey, one of the women said that she wouldn't date Ross, not because of the divorces but because it was obvious that he was still in love with the Rachel girl. Ross subsequently flipped out and became very defensive like post Season 2 Ross greatly did. That woman who made the comment then stated that she then wouldn't date him because he was creepy. The other woman with the history of unstable guys expressed her sudden jolt of attraction towards Ross.

I had a moment like that.

As I was talking with my friend regarding a girl and her history of issues I felt more compelled to spend time with her. And no, this isn't the social worker in me though I did a comprehensive assessment of the girl through my friend (our mutual friend/ bridge). The essence of the walls are quite clear.

When I met this girl a while back through our friend I got some weird, extremely hazy information about her. Our friend said that she didn't want to say too much because those were things I should see on my own and I shouldn't prejudge someone on another's assessment. I'm glad she did that.

I don't walk into baggage or drama. Well.. yes I do, but not this type of baggage. Without the information we discussed last night, I already had my experiential assumptions of the complicated emotional maze she presented. Yet, by meeting the girl, there's enough for me to care.

And no, I'm not trying to save nor console nor incubate. I just care. The rest I don't know what to do with it.

This girl might not even talk to me ever again. But I still care.

Ulam cooked @ 3:05 PM

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Sunday, August 28, 2005

TITLE: Chemicals and shit

It wasn't my soul that I offered,
nor the whole world.
It wasn't a body or a hair
or even my word.
It wasn't a promise for eternal success
basking in the sun of passion's duress.
No.
What I offered was a window
open for you to peak, to take a mere glance
at a future to seek when given a chance.
It was translucent at best still cloaked in some pride
yet clear enough to ponder where our lives could arrive.
It was a window - a slight crack on the sill
an invitation to breathe in a heart's will.
And to that effect, it was suspect
enough for you to avoid the choice for introspect
so I offered a door so your eyes could rest
it was a mere welcome at your foot step.
To knock was unneeded, just a physical strain,
the wind could've lifted you if your heels felt restrained.
There was no lock but you still had the key,
There was no cost for you. Admission was free.
And then there were bricks for the chimney and floor
and the columns to stand the roof from the core,
I laid the foundation for the last pieces to install,
the components you built and these were the walls.
Now there's a house.
Now there's a home where we could rest
where your inhibitions could falter while I invest
more time and some patience following your cadence
moving in rhythm with innocent pretense.
If they are walls that you give, then walls I will take
for this sanctuary that together we'll make.

END

Not so in love with the rhythm of the poem, but it's a response. And it's a concept and another extended metaphor.

Ulam cooked @ 5:20 AM

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the mess in my room. the mess in my head. the clutter in my heart. the clouds in my soul. plus lack of sleep.

I CHANGED the NAME of this blog

For the Filipino-breakfast-challenged, the X-silog is the common term for a Filipino breakfast. The X represents the main part of the meal like sausage (longanisa), sweet pork (tocino), or corned beef (cornedbeep). The silog part represents the two constants: si for SInigag (sp?) aka garlic fried rice and log for itLOG aka eggs. So, the meal put together is an amalgamation of the words like TO(C)-SI-LOG or LONG-SI-LOG or CORNEDBEEP-SI-LOG.

Now, you may be thinking, "monkey? eat fuckin monkey?" And I'm thinking, "damn right, bieeetches!" Yolks, Just Yolks! (JOKES) like Tino (from Anchorman would say).

It is an extended metaphor. Monkey? Check the site name. Ahh, yeah, that's it. Just like that. SI and LOG are the constants. SI - emotion, deliriousness, comics, "hurt poems" and curse words to name a few. LOG - well, I'm a male with two itlog. That's always a slant.

So welcome, children, to big bones and burglarlike ski masks. This is monkeysilog.

And btw, hyper-sensory requires that there be the presence of sense (common sense, physical sense, non-sense). And well, all I've been writing about is the lattest - in a not so hyper - nor abundant - nor sensible way. So, I thought the misnomer's not a good start.

Plus, a superhero named Monkeysilog is better than Hypersensory.

Ulam cooked @ 5:08 AM

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Friday, August 26, 2005

AND ANOTHER HEAVY THOUGHT:

I believe that Palestinians deserve their land. I believe that the Israeli government has oppressed the Palestinians in some way or many. Though, this forced exit of Israeli people out of the Gaza Strip and the West Bank has disturbed me. I hate to see people getting kicked out of any place they call a home.

This is just another example of how our "governments" or OUR public "servants" use their political games for their own individual benefit and end up screwing the people over.

*sigh*

Ulam cooked @ 5:26 PM

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An attempt at a real post.

So, the other night I was reading my favorite comic book news site I was reading my favorite section of the daily beats and I saw a link at the bottom by the writer regarding his upcoming reading of his material and his novel. So it piqued my interest because I didn't know the depth or breadth or reality of the various staff at this site - I thought that having columns by actual mainstream writers on the site was due maybe to good luck and the quality of the site. I guess my assumption was that this was a commoner's fanboy site - say, like the millions of Wrestling NEWS sites there are on the internet. So anyway, I clicked on the link because anyone who gets a novel published deserves a high level of respect (from my perspective). Low and behold, this writer who I wrongly assumed was white was not.

Let's go back to December 2004 when I first found the site. On his page, he included information about Kwanzaa - actual information. It was never mocked nor disrespected, yet, through my own issues, mistakenly considered this information as a slight. Why? Well, I have this assumption that most people who would be on a fanboy site writing about comics wouldn't be African American or Filipino American or whatever. Not because we're not fans nor are we not qualified to write, but due to the simple homegenoeity of the publishers and management of mainstream comics.

So anyway, due to my joyful surprise, I emailed him telling him of my mistake and attempting to show my appreciation instead of his presence. But, as I was talking with my "apprentice" today at work, messages that aren't properly delivered by the messengers will be filtered incompatibly by the receiver. But, in this case, as I reflect on it more, he may have understood what I was saying. He was disturbed though and he wrote me back stating so. He was disturbed because he felt that he wrote like no "color" (and yes, there is no way to write in "color") and that it was disturbing to live in a world where we might not be able to share culture like Kwanzaa without it being considered a slight (and yes, that is VERY disturbing).

That reaction obviously was not my intended response. I was kissing butt, that's all. But his reaction is real and valid and I felt bad - really bad for how I made him feel. As a writer, I would and do hate feeling that I am misrepresented - especially because though we write for instances and frozen moments in the time continuum, readers can only read these facets and assume those moments fill up the rest of the, say, 23 hours and 45 minutes of this person's day. So I feel him on that.

I knew I was going to get a response... on the site. So I guess I missed the actual response on the day of, but I checked the site today. AND YES, there it was. My initial reaction? I sorta felt dizzy in a sense. In one sense, again, I may have felt misrepresented. Not to the readers because I remained nameless, but to him. But, like I said, I don't think I was misrepresented. I think he got everything I was saying - but the message I was saying was much worse than any miscommunication.

My race issues are severe and real. Am I racist? Probably, in a sense. Racist as in seeing the world through the race lens. So yeah, I am racist. Though, I would never like being coined any type of -ist. See, my definition of racism stems from the WORD... specifically the suffix: ISM. Ism denotes action. Lobbyists lobby. Artists partake in art. Racists see the world in terms of race (and for me, I mean ethnically and culturally. I don't even like the term RACE). Then you may say to me, "you're a dumbass bitch for seeing the world through race, why can't you be color blind?" Well, because the world is not color blind. We're not all ONE people. We're MANY people of equal beauty and pitfalls. Culture makes us. ANd for many of us, our culture is dictated heavily by our ethnicity. That is why I see race - because it exists as a divider (and sometimes unifier).

Racism, itself, does exist - and not in the sense that we like to teach our kids. "Never judge a book by it's cover." "I'm not black, white, yellow, green, red." (Mantras that we don't abide by as we become older. We're selling fraudulous morals to children. As a society and culture, yes, we are.) We like to paint Scarlet R's on words, images, acts, and people. And yes, those things are racist. Call me a FLIP? Yes, that's racist. You see me and think I eat dog? Yes, that's racist. You kill me for being brown? Yes, that's racist. Yes, we know that exists and we cast those people as having individual deficiencies.

But what about the generational FACT that there are disproportionate opportunities for the rich and the poor? What about the FACT that the poor are more often people of color than white? What about the FACT that if you took two homeless people with the same posture, same hair quality, same teeth, same physical stature except that one was black and the other was white and put versace suits on both of them that the white man will be have more access to commerce and resources more than the black man?

Systematic racism exists. Individual racism exists. And through each, exclusively and inclusively discrimination also exists.

So I go back to the disturbance I caused for this one man. My issues? Well, I don't have automatic faith in people especially those who are less culturally sensitive or less integrated or less aware of the beauty of culture and the beauty of DIFFERENCES. And that is why I thought this author was disrespecting a respectful celebration - because of my own issues that, no matter how skewed and possibly socially debilitating, are real AND valid.

And my only response for him is that I am sorry for making him uncomfortable and worried and misrepresenting him and his intentions. I truly am.

Ulam cooked @ 4:46 PM

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I thought we could answer the questions
the world was asking, simply by sexin'
swinging through the strings and swaying
with marley playing -
conveying our need to stir it up, little darling
as our panting replaces chanting to
cease more bodies resting in arlington.
we thought we could be the lambs
for slaughter, sacrificing ourselves for scams
as we ride each other like cars -
the only bodies being laid would be ours.
We lust for calm and coin ourselves peace freaks
as each thrust echoes megaphones as we speak
in the sweat friction to energize
a resistance, a conviction to mobilize.
we thought your warmth and my solidarity
could conceive a movement of righteous heresy -
but we fooled ourselves into bed
thinking the sheets were capes
like our fucking could clean the slate -
could free the confined unspoken
while we came towards that threshold broken.
No. Our sex was just sex - only a moment of release
it wasn't a pristine poetic and passionate piece,
a rough draft of scribble written in vain
a performance of tainted phsyicality and pain
we thought fake love and grinding could be the currency for change
but the world's just left with one more stain.

Ulam cooked @ 10:22 PM

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Monday, August 22, 2005

RIP Thomas Herrion

From ESPN.com:

"[Travis] Fox said Herrion always talked about his niece, and family was a big motivation for playing.


"When he got here," Fox recalled, "the first thing he told me was, 'I'm going to make this team and buy my mom a nice house.'"

Ulam cooked @ 2:20 PM

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Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Ahh... Wisdom

"Shortly before the election, NASCAR celebrity Darrell Waltrip explained his support for Bush by saying that he -- Waltrip -- wasn't 'an issues guy' but that he'd been impressed by Bush's handshake."

Ulam cooked @ 9:21 AM

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Monday, August 15, 2005

The front: You can't see me that way, and I don't want you in that way.
The truth: I don't think you can smile at me like that without feeling something.

The front: History dictates our relational dynamic.
The truth: You rely on me like your proxy boyfriend, and I really don't mind.

The front: We barely touch especially when we're saying goodbye.
The truth: We maintain our distance because our chemistry and stations in life intimidate us.

The front: In this case, loneliness makes the heart grow fonder.
The truth: I am happy when we are together.

NOW... the truths still don't outweigh the qualms.
I still don't like certain things you say.
We can't vibe on that other level. If we could, we haven't.
Happiness that's evident in our proximity still doesn't fill that spiritual/intellectual void that exists in our friendship.

AM I STUPID...
to feel that my life wouldn't be as full if I didn't share love with someone else before (if I ever were to) love her once more?

I AM BEING STUPID..
just for letting this in the forefront of my pensiveness.

Ulam cooked @ 11:06 PM

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Sunday, August 14, 2005

dreams and bladders

I have this theory that's completely unscientific that my recent string of disturbing/ angry/ supernatural dreams relate more to my bladder than my subconscious.

Werewolves, ghosts, angry fights with close ones, co-starring ex-girlfriend. All these dreams happened when I really needed to take a piss in the morning.

Ulam cooked @ 10:04 PM

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Monday, August 08, 2005

Updeazeys.

Started working last week. It was slow. Whenever my supervisor asked me if I was excited or inspired - I half heartedly said yes. NOT because I'm NOT, but because there was so much information I had to process. PLUS, since I will be working with a team of youth, I want to incorporate their wants and needs into my own wants and needs for the program. So therefore, I had limited inital emotions. Today, the work started picking up. I am scheduling meetings. I developing a solid vision. NOW I'm getting excited!

I feel the spark to write again - thanks in part to FAYLC, in part to Alan of 8th Wonder, in part to the youth at FAYLC, in part to Slug and Murs: Felt 2, a tribute to Lisa Bonet, in part to everything else. I re-realized today that writing out of hatred (pure hatred) rarely, if ever, produces genius. We can thrive artistically off of angst and disapproval, but in hatred remains no hope. When writing or any kind of art has an essence void of hope, it's difficult for any real beauty to show. I'm gonna pick that up. That's why my issues with Bush, his cronies, and the current state of the world. Like Kweli said.. and I'm paraphrasing, "This ain't what we settling for, I want more."

The aforementioned girl of "uh oh" fame is no longer on the radar - so much no that the other night I called her celly and got a verizon message saying the line was not in service. I called the next night and the voicemail was working proper - but I left a message. I don't expect a call back. I'm not concerned about it either.

I just read (like 10 minutes ago) "All-Star Batman and Robin" written by Frank Miller and drawn by Jim Lee. Pretty damn good. It's like an Ultimate series in the vein of Marvel - rewritten continuation.

I'm sad that Judd Winick's run on Outsiders is ending. It seems like the team's also going through a revamp. Or maybe it's just this short, transitionary story.

It is official. I definitely prefer Batman and Gotham City based stories (Catwoman, Nightwing, Birds of Prey, Robin, etc.) over Superman. The Turner storyline wasn't all that for me. Neither was the Azzarello/Lee year-long run.

I don't know what to do with my hair for work.

The Barrelmen are back at .500 with our win tonight. It was sort of a spot start for me at pitcher since I found out yesterday that Phong's knee wasn't healed enough to go tonight. Last time I pitched, I had a week to prepare physically and more importantly, mentally. We won though, and I did pretty well. I only had two walks. I could have had possibly more but the other team swung on some balls. Our defense was locked in. I definitely had a lot of fun. The highlight of the game came at the end though. Earlier in the day, as I was warming up, I was practicing regular pitching (first time in like weeks I had even done that.. and in batting practice I usually can't hit the strike zone). So I started messing around with my quick sidestep pitch and also my knuckleball. Neither of the two pitches are reliable and I've only thrown the knuckleball in the past few months (when I first pitched). Anyway, I threw a perfect knuckler at the end of my practice throws. NO SPIN AT ALL. So, earlier in the game when I had a 1-2 count, I threw the knuckler. It felt a yard short. End of the game. We were up 15-6 (I think). There was a man on 2nd with 2 outs. Once again, I had a 1-2 count. I knew the guy could hit, but all game he was pulling the ball. So I figured, 1-2 count, screw it, I'll try the knuckler again. I still had another pitch to try to get him to pull or overcompensate not pulling. Anyway, I threw the knuckler. It was a bit low, but it was a legal pitch AND it was actually in the strike zone. When the guy hit it the sound off the bat sounded like a knuckle pitch. Rich, at second base, even said he noticed it come off the bat like a knuckler. SO yes, that was the first time I hit the strike zone with a knuckler (my warm-up pitches in-between innings didn't even land NEAR the strike zone.) and YES it worked perfectly. I was quite pleased with that. I'm glad I played a significant role in the win.

Ulam cooked @ 11:33 PM

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