Thursday, April 19, 2007

Breaking up with Barry
The first time I cheered for Barry Zito in a Giants jersey came the other night when he was ripping up the Colorado Rockies.

I realize now that the break-up is complete.

Stage 1: Denial/Shock
This stage never really existed because we've known since he had his Cy Young season that he would be leaving the A's. There's no way that a left-handed pitcher who is so young, charismatic, and containing hardware (like the Cy Young) would or COULD come back. Still, when he ended up across the bay it brought up mixed feelings. I like the Giants. Not as much as before as my Bay Area line has been solidified lately as I've spent the last two seasons almost hearing or seeing every pitch of A's game. Still, I'm a Giants fan. I thought it was a good idea for him. I actually thought San Diego would be the best fit: pitcher's park, hometown team, surfing, etc.

Stage 2: Numbness/Depression
Again, this stage never *really* happened, but I guess having those mixed feelings about him going to the Giants led to feelings of ambivalence towards him - our previous captain. Listening to KNBR started to get grating hearing all of the ass-kissing especially from some of the hosts who used to make fun of the "eccentric" dude sometimes.

Stage 3: Fear/Anger
This stage, like in most break-ups, is usually the longest, most bitter, and most fun. Listening to sports-talk Giants fans (totally different from the more casual, yet more informed and level-headed fan) creaming over Zito talking about promised land and all that blah blah. I thought to myself and shared with the A's faithful that I knew that I was counting the days when these same belligerent fans would turn on Zito. I knew that it was only a matter of time before he'd have a run of his typical control-deprived, missing-high games. I expected it and ANTICIPATED in joy for the moment when Giant Fan would hear the "I just have to trust my stuff. I was thinking too much." speech. Look, as an A's pitcher, we KNEW and APPRECIATED Zito for his highs and lows. But they were without a $126M price tag nor a franchise "savior" mantle. I loved hearing the apocalypse now type speeches on the airwaves. I was at my most bitter!

Stage 4: Understanding/Acceptance
And now, here is where I am at. After remembering again that Zito is still a fun character in baseball - and that Pacbell Park (yes, PACBELL!) is a good place for him - and now that the ignorant Giant Fan will be on a differing side from me again - I'm good. That's why I cheered for Barry on Monday. I want him to do well. When he's on, there's incredible fun seeing him stun people with all of his soft stuff.

GO Barry! Go Giants! Go sane Giant Fan! (OUTREPRESENT your delusional collegue on talk-radio.)

Ulam cooked @ 1:27 PM

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Saturday, April 14, 2007

Circa 2002
Remember kids. It's April 14, 2002.

"This is why we shouldn't kid about this."

We shouldn't kid about a possible reality. There's no sense in it when we really don't make sense in a lot of the B and C and D and E level categories. But then, there's the A-level stuff - where one person and another person find comfort in each others' essential being - all that real stuff under the front and the bullshit - and on that level I think we do. That's why we shouldn't kid.

It's also because for the past few weeks, I've had a thing for you - albeit in and out. I've had a thing for you because of the aforementioned A-Level. I thought there was some level of reciprocation on your part. I guess I'm wrong.

It makes sense actually. If i take all the little signs or maybe big glaring signs from the past few weeks over the other ambiguously yet amorously masked signs. "you don't want to date a girl like me." "i really shouldn't be in a relationship right now." you said that second part staring straight into my eyes. you have access to more information about me and what I write, but you don't really look at it.

A reminder: this is April 14, 2002.

You talk about all of the relationships you've had with bunk ass bastards. You talk about the scarring received from the one that really hurt. You talk about a complicated and lingering relationship. This one in particular makes me the most uncomfortable. Actually, it feels like the ultimate turn-off. The one thing that I ultimately can't and won't deal with. The other things? They're okay. But this? It's. just. no.

The other things - like your need for attention, like your mixed signals, like your need for MY attention, like your fantasy of this ideal you think I represent, like your interests that aren't mine, like your emotional scars that I would inevitably have to shoulder if anything were to ever happen between us - those things meant less than what I see of you on a truly deeper level. I like you better without make-up. I like you better beyond the front. I like you better when it's just me and my heart/mind/soul sharing ideas with you and your heart/mind/soul. You are a wonderful person slowed down by your behaviors born from insecurities, pain, and scars.

That's why we shouldn't kid about any of that stuff - because I could feel a possibility of it. I mean, not in reality but in potential, you know, like 600 years down the road. Because, right now, I love laughing with you, shooting the shit with you, sharing ideals with you, sorta flirting with you, and hugging you. I dig caring about you - I dig believing I can help you move beyond those pains - I dig the fact the fact that you look to me for comfort - I dig being needed even if episodic and whimsical - I dig the idea of you and me.

Let's not kid because 5 years from now, I may find myself in an almost identical situation where there is kidding. And it wouldn't be worth the laughs.

And just like now, maybe in 5 years, the fact that you'd never read this makes the kidding that more bitter than sweet.

Ulam cooked @ 12:50 AM

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Monday, April 09, 2007

The Day: A Mini Opus, Part 1: The Morning
The Day: A Mini Opus
Part 1: The Morning

It's sunrise.
The celestial body next to me
awakens me - her hair unknowingly
playing games with my nostrils.
My arm: asleep. Forehead: Sweaty.
There is no place I'd rather be
than lying next to she
drowning in our intimacy.
The sunlight speaks softly - sprinkling
serenades on her skin.
Her face: untouched.
Her breast: plays coy.
Only her shoulder is bold enough to listen.
Together they dance
in silent flirtation.
There is no sight I'd rather see
than the hazy light kissing her so innocently.

Gradually, she emerges from the depths
while I remain engaged.
She breathes.
A subtle groan escapes - she realizes the beauty
that her dreamscapes bring is gone
for another day.
Reality barely lives up
to her utopian slumber,
but she smiles
when she feels my breath on her neck.
I pretend that I can fill the void.
She grabs my arms and pulls me over
as she pretends that she needs shelter
from the morning.
There is no warmth I'd rather feel
than moving forward while we're lying still.

She whispers fragments,
incomplete scenes emerging from her subconscious
to the spoken word.
Unintelligible to the ears -
but hearing from the vibrations of her voice
make me the solitary and welcoming audience.
I respond through physical inflections -
a slightly stronger embrace;
she whispers more as she settles in.
I tickle her as I write
more meandering sentences with my fingers
on her vulnerable arms.
she exhales like a new notebook.
Before she's fully awaken,
I have written a novel from her dictums.
There is no bliss I'd rather hear,
than our subsonic language intricately clear.

She breathes again
as the sunlight becomes more imposing,
more welcoming to the living world.
As she struggles to move
from netherworld to Earth,
I still bask in her heavenly nature.
Her hair once again plays with my nose
emitting the scent from her recent wash
engulfing me in reminiscing of
the dusk that welcomed this dawn.
I noticed her new shampoo.
She noticed that I noticed.
I kissed her goodnight while inhaling her essence.
She slipped into the night
as the intoxicating flavor of our kiss,
a concoction of her lips and new fleeting smell,
pulled me deeper into contentment.
And now, as the warmth from the day,
desperate for attention,
finally overcomes our moment -
we stretch our once entangled bodies.
Physically parted but
connected by sensation.
There is no one else I'd rather feel,
Than her in my senses so satisfyingly real.

- reb4

Ulam cooked @ 12:52 PM

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Friday, April 06, 2007

randomosity. all too infrequent.
I remember the days..
no. don't want to start it that way.

What happened to..
no. that's been done too much.

hmm.

Today was really a dope ass day off.
okay. good start.

I woke up earlier than I thought I would given how knocked out I was the night before. Usually, alcohol-induced debauchery leads to waking up at like 11am or later, but I guess my body's used to getting up between 7 and 9. So, despite that and the slightest feel of imbalance and major dehydration, it was a nice morning.

I saw Lisa online so I AIMed her a happy birthday. I was gonna offer her a birthday brunch until she told me Jen would be heading over there to Lafayette. So, I called Jen and eventually we were headed out towards that way.

FIRST STOP:
Tart to Tart - Irving. Funny, it's a cafe and I've never been there in the morning. I got a Sugar Free Hazelnut Soy Latte Double. Wanted to limit the hardcore caffeine. I also bought a fresh croissant. Oh, had to get that stuff to fill my stomach because of the debauchery.

SECOND STOP:
Lafayette - lisa and robert's place. and home of various indoor and outdoor (wild) animals. On the way, we talked about global warming, asshole people, and Oregon Trail strategies.

THIRD STOP:
Downtown Walnut Nut [Creek]. Apple Store.. I think i'm going to get a shuffle.. because a bunch of my music is in AAC form (But i do want to get an MP3 player that has an FM radio). I want a Flash based MP3 player so it's easier to use in athletic endeavors. CPK: had a vegetarian sandwich. uh. So the lowlights of rolling through the WC were a lot of weird looks, people being scared of us in the elevator, and feelings of being unwelcomed. Fuck Walnut Creek. =)

FOURTH STOP:
After a rest stop back at the crib, we walked around Briones Regional Park. Lots of Manure. OH, gotta get the pics up. Worth it.

FIFTH STOP:
Starbucks. On the way to 24, I filled Jen in on the current subversive soap operatics goings ons with the lady peeps. We agree that Mixed Messages suck.

INTERVAL:
Had to roll back to the Peninsula through the Bay Bridge. Got caught up in the regular Friday night traffic and the added Giants game rush. We couldn't get our brains to work properly enough to figure out what the "toot toot" and "beep beep" R. Kelly song was [yes, ignition]. So, I searched my ipod. Naw, not there. Checked some of her CDs. Not there either. Realized I had the ibook and found it on itunes. But, while listening to some of the CDs, I realized I wanted some of the songs so I ripped them.. right there.. in the car. Oh technology. That was fun - one of the CDs had a bunch of mopey dopey songs on it like:

On Bended Knee - Boyz II Men
So Hard to Say I'm Sorry - Az Yet
All Cried Out - Allure and 112
Til You Do Me Right - After 7

So we started searching for the super sad love songs. It was pretty funny. And now, we have a contest we'll be announcing in a bit.

SIXTH STOP:
Sushi on Noriega. Yum.

It was a bunch of fun being random and shit. I'm glad we hung out with Lisa on her birthday. The unplannedness of it was so appreciated. It was a real.. REAL day off.

SO NOW... I'm blogging about actual goings on since I don't normally do it nowadays. AND, I'm sorta watching "The Brothers". This quote came up:

** men don't know who they are until they know what woman they're looking for **

Thoughts? I think it's mostly untrue, but some sense of reality to it. I say that the last thing I can imagine is being married and being a father - but it's easy to not see that since there's no partner there to imagine it with. Okay, that's all I'll get into.

The acting in this and some of the regular dialogue's a bit forced. BUT, the themes are interesting. Okay. This is totally a boring post.

Ulam cooked @ 11:27 PM

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Thursday, April 05, 2007

Daydreaming
Been in a bunch of meetings this week where my brain's been almost officially shut down. Major come down from the past two weeks, but I'm building up steam again.

Anyway, as usual my brain's been all over the place when things start getting completely disengaging. Here's a quick recap of what I can remember.

Basketball:

I always daydream about playing basketball. I daydream about having better handles. I daydream about passing out of the post. I daydream about mini-drives and dish-offs. I daydream about touch passes. I love basketball.

Softball:

When it's the season, I'll daydream about softball. I'll daydream about finally putting together an all-points fundamentally sweet swing: head down, shoulder up, no upper cut, proper weight change, proper hip thrust timing - and it barely sailing over the fence for a 3-run homer to either win it for us or give us a lead. It's hard to imagine how I'd celebrate it - I'm sure I couldn't help but smile out of shock. Well, here's to daydreaming.

Baseball:
Now, here's the fucked up one. Now that Boys of Summer are back on the grind, I can't help but be excited about overpriced non-tasty hot dogs, about overpriced nasty beer (bud light), pining over bad at-bats-misplays-and-whatever-else-i-usually-bitch-about. And I also love talking about baseball. And.. no comes the fucked up part: there's an uncompromising and unmatchable vision of bringing (my own) kids to a BALLGAME to talk baseball. Bring the glove. Get the hot dogs. Leave the beer alone. Talk about plate presence. Defensive strategies. All the nitpicky parts of the game that you can only appreciate if you really love it. But then.. teaching a child about baseball is probably not one of the best reasons to even think of having a child. It is, though, probably one of the most rewarding if it were to ever happen. =P

Ulam cooked @ 2:31 PM

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Tuesday, April 03, 2007

options. it's about options.
Options, I say? Yes, options.

I suppose that's what commitment-phobic is in a more subtle and softer term. My life is dictated by options because I want them open. I want a back door. I'm emotionally claustrophobic. No, it's not that I'm not the emoting type - because I was and will always be emotive - but more that losing options is like losing life. I want to travel a lonely highway with millions of exists instead of riding down a road with a companion and no place to turn. Get that?

That's why I wait until last minute to order at restaurants. Most of the time, my initial gut instinct is best and whenever I deviate I leave unsatisfied. All metaphors served up for the long ball. Take your homerun cuts. It's okay. It's like batting practice - 70 mph fast ball.

That's why when someone asks me to go hang out or do something some night I find outs. That's why, if they ask, "Are you busy tonight?", I respond, "Why?". Saying "yes" means I get no invite or I have to admit to flaking. Saying "no" means I may have to say "yes" to something not so fun. That's just how I roll.

That's why it's been over a year that I've lived in SSF and I still haven't completely considered this my "home" though it's been getting more like that recently. And, yes, it feels nice.

Being picky is a result and cause of this options game. I'm fine with it. Like I say many times, I'm prepared for a lifetime of solitude. It's not my ideal, but it is true. And, I will never settle into something not worth my time. And, like the restaurant ordering ordeal, I have a good sense of a person from the beginning no matter what I choose to believe.

So with that said, what I always say is pretty much bullshit. Bullshit in the sense that all it comes down to is having options. Rules are abitrary. Steadfastedness does not exist (word nore feeling).

When I say I'm protective over my time and I know nothing else but having my personal space, I... well.. actually, that's true. What's time compromise? I've never really had to do that because I made the decisions to be in over my head or be completely selfish. I guess I just don't like being in over my head anymore.

When i say I'm more comfortable being in a situation of higher potential in being hurt than being the hurter is bullshit also. No one likes to be vulnerable - though I'm somewhat used to it. Still, the truth is - every instance that I get my hopes disparaged I get closer to dying. It's dramatic, but it's true. Hope will bring a fallen man to his feet. It's dangerous when you don't feel the need to get back up.

What I want now, and always have wanted, is to mean something to someone. I want my ideas to be cherished even if they're not agreed upon. I want these arms to represent warmth, protection, and replenishment like they once were. One of the haunting memories of being in a real relationship was when I went to pick-up my ex at some game and she was feeling under the weather. The first thing she did was dig her head into my chest and wanted my hug. It's pretty frakkin' sad that that scenario's ever repeated itself in the past 10 years. None of the "relationships" I've been involved with since then have had that innocent but most extremely sincere connection. Man. Now I feel lonely.

Okay, now I don't. I'm super fickle too. But, in the end, it's about real connection. It's fun to joke that, "it's about what [she] likes, not what [she's] like" - but it's really about what she is.. WHO she is ESSENTIALLY under the make-up, the barriers, the fronts, the emotional masquerade. It's about WHO that is and WHO I am and those spirits meet essential needs.

What this continues to mean is that I keep talking more about love than actually experiencing it - and that has NEVER been the way I wanted to live. I'm not a talker. I'm not a talker. I'm an over-analyzer who believes he wants to live - but hides behind anything to not do that in terms of love.

Something's gotta give.
Really.

Ulam cooked @ 11:06 PM

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