Tuesday, May 19, 2009
[nyc-oh-nine] day three
Day three proceeds with how day two ended.
And, we were off to see (walk) the city.
First stop: Canal St. so I could buy a Fendi bag with a bad attitude. Jk. I wanted a hat - like my fake kangol or fangol, if you will. Didn't find any. But they had a bunch of.. newsboy type hats and found one quickly and only haggled for a second for them to drop the price from $12 to $10.
Then, we ventured westward to get some vegan dim sum at Buddha Bodai. We ordered... veggie Sesame Chicken, veggie siu mai, veggie pork buns, some chinese doughnut thing, eggplant with tofu, and taro. It was a whole mess of food. And, again, was pretty good. And it was pretty cheap - 2.25 - 2.75 for each dim sum, except the sesame chicken.
Stuffed and having NO ROOM for more food, we headed northeastward to Chinatown Ice Cream Factory where the sample spoons of lychee (was good but nothing spectacular) and black sesame (forced the stomach to adjust to fit in another friend). I ordered the taro and spent the next few minutes and blocks working the ice cream scoop to a proper size so that it wouldn't all drip onto my hand or just fall off if held at weird angle. The ice cream was sorta expensive - but where do you find black sesame ice cream? The was really really good. The taro was good also, but not really memorable. Though I did enjoy immensely.
With tons of food in the bellies, we ventured southward to the Brooklyn Bridge. We spent a good amount of time walking on the bridge and taking photos of the bridge, the skyline, the rust, the wires, the rust, (I took enjoyment in the rust, i guess), of brooklyn, of water, of people in our shots, of each other, of Europeans. Along the way there was some model shoot on the bridge. For what? I don't know. It could've been hair product. Could've been lipstick. It could've been for cereal, but I really don't know.
We got to Brooklyn - and I was sorta grossed out by the huge buildings decorating the foot of the bridge: the Watchtower(s). Okay.
We jumped onto an A-train and headed over to 14th and 8th to look for Chelsea Market and Ninth Street Espresso. We got our bearing when we stepped out of the station and still turned the wrong way. But, the detour landed us at a corner where there was some sort of film set - but nothing was happening. Maybe it was lunch hour.
We found ourselves at Chelsea Market, walked around to see all the bakeries, the food network elevator, overpriced cupcakes and cookies, and coffee (also a bit overpriced). We sat outside, again, to catch our bearings, and subsequently headed north on 9th ave. We walked through Chelsea on our way to the Flat Iron building on 5th and 23rd. I've actually never been to the Flat Iron building - just rode by it once on the way to a bar. We spent a few minutes taking pictures there of the building, of cabs, of each other, and many times using our favorite "ACCENT" setting on our cameras.
We decided to head up to 34th and 9th to see where we would catch the Bolt Bus to Boston the next day. And, before we got too far (the end of the block), we saw Shake Shack, saw the line, saw a burger wiz buy us - and felt compelled to not leave without trying it. We were told to try the double stack - the one with a burger patty and a patty of portobello mushroom stuffed with cheese. Oh. Damn. We split one. And we're going to split another.. or maybe two before we leave.
And, as an added treat - for me I guess - and the Filipinos on facebook - while in line, I heard some girl say something to a friend, gave him an embrace, and said, "this is my friend Paolo". And when I looked, for that brief glance, I knew I recognized the face and the name made sense. But before I made a full assumption, I looked up his name on my internets connected phone - and YES - it was confirmed. I saw Paolo Montalban - of half-Filipino and Cinderella with brandy fame.
After the psuedo-celebrity sighting and not-at-all-psuedo badass burger eating, we continued North to the 34th and 9th - but not before I bought a fresh cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee. I've bought a bag of it before and wasn't all that impressed. Maybe drinking it after the burger didn't make sense. Whatever case.. Dunkin Donuts coffee: I don't get it.
We saw our bus stop and fought through increased foot traffic and eventually found ourselves in Central Park. We walked on the West side of the park and past the lake, onto some bridge, and over the middle portion of the park. I was looking for the Promenade, aka Poet's Walk, and thought of just walking east. Didn't work. Didn't find it. Before all that getting lost sorta stuff, we watched a bunch of elementary school kids learning to play baseball. It was cute. And gross that it was cute. I'm anti-child, remember? I also took some time to take picture of the big rocks at the park as an homage to the lessons I learned about geology on History Channel's How the Earth was Made show. I took pictures of the stryations (created by a glacier). I also chased around a robin for a few minutes, but it wouldn't cooperate.
Eventually, we were running out of time and getting tired so we headed back to the hotel to pack our stuff for Boston and take all of our leftover stuff to Huong's friend's place where we'll be staying after we get back from Boston. After dropping off our stuff, we headed south on 1st ave. On the way, we passed by some "mexican" restaurant and saw tequila on their sign. We headed to S'mac to try some specialty mac n cheese. We ordered the Parisienne: Brie, fig, rosemary, and maybe some other spices. It was good - heavy as you'd expect. If you like Mac n Cheese, you'd probably enjoy it. I'd go back and try one or two of the other recipes. Okay, i'd probably try a bunch of them. But you can order the smallest size and split with someone and still feel like it was enough.
Onward we went - south towards the Lower East Side. We were heading towards Sugar Sweet Sunshine bakery to try out some famous cupcakes. Before we got there though, we stopped into a bar, and followed through on a plan to take a tequila shot for our friend Maria. It was honestly a much better experience than the last shot I took of tequila - at Maria's place, but I still hate tequila.
Sugar Sweet Sunshine had a wide array of cupcakes: our two suggested choices were the Black and White (chocolate and white frosting) and the Red Velvet. So, we ordered the Pistachio. $1.50. "A dollar fifty's not bad at all. Other places charged 3.50 for a single cupcake. The pistachio.. it's good, like homemade cupcakes, " says Huong. With a hint of apprehension. I think she was disappointed. Disappointment happens when other people's tastes get you excited. "I think we'll have to try Magnolia - just to try it."
After the cupcake, we jumped on the brown line to West 4th to grab a slice of cheese pizza at Joe's Pizza (as seen on Spider-man... as seen on a sign on their wall). I pured on some garlic powder, folded it, and chomped away. Huong, who said she wasn't ready for Joe's had many bites and said it was "good pizza" and we'd have to go back. Then, before leaving the west village, stopped at Grey Dog (where I hung out once on a rain-dump day with Trina waaay back when.) I ordered a Lobster Ale, she ordered a soy chai, and she scoped the joint for cute boys or "cute skinnies". Sadly, there were none.
Then, the train. Then, the stop. Then, the hotel. Then, the internet. Then, the sleep. Then.. the boston.
[nyc-oh-nine] day two
Day two started off where day one ended: on the floor of Carlo's room. But the ceiling fan was off. It was a little chillier outside anyway.
Before heading out to Manhattan, we had breakfast with Lola: eggs, corned beef, fried rice, and all the food from the night before and some pasta that dame out of nowhere it seemed. A table full of food. It's never a surprise: moreso a humorous and sometimes endearing reminder where he gets his overzealousness - with food, with caring, and with pleasing.
We get dropped off at Kew Gardens/Union Turnpike to take the E or F out of Queens and into Manhattan. The train ride was short - and now makes me remember how long that damn bus ride is from Glen Oaks to Union Turnpike train station. We transfer at Lexington to catch the 6 down to Wall Street and we made pretty good time to check-in just a few minutes before "check-in" time at 3pm. The hotel was pretty nice - solid bargain for what we had to pay: clean, close to various subway lines, clean, free purified water in the hallway, and clean.
We drop off our stuff and head to the Lower East Side to meet up with Huong's friends at a bookstore. We had a lot of time so we headed over to the Village, first. We got out at Union Square, 14th St. and walked southwest. We meandered onto Broadway and took a right at Waverly as we crossed NYU and Washington Square Park and found Gray's Papaya. First Manhattan psuedo-meal was there. We split a Recession special - 2 frankfurters (with everything) and a juice (papaya) before we headed out to the Lower East Side.
We got there a few minutes early so we camped out for a few at Epstein's bar. I knocked down some Hefe while Huong sipped her Stella Artois til it was room temperature. Eventually her friends Candy and Jennifer arrived and we headed West - to the hallway Jennifer calls an apartment and to Lombardi's for some pizza and more beer (Brooklyn Lager!).
After pizza, we walked further west to Atlas Cafe - a joint that serves a wide array of vegetarian and vegan food to taste some vegan desserts: chocolate cake, strawberry/chocolate cake, and pumpkin cupcake. All pretty damn tasty.
We parted ways after dessert, but not before we left with a long, long, and pretty long list of food suggestions that littered the Lower East Side - some having multiple referrals by multiple people.
When we got out of the Wall St. station, Huong and I decided to walk down to Battery Park in the dark. I remember hearing about the danger at battery park when I was weeee younger. Now, it's much more illuminated and there's some fancypants restaurant next to the Staten Island Ferry building that made it safe to partake in harbor picture taking.
Then, hotel. Then, sleep.
[nyc-oh-nine] day one
Written while using wifi on a Bolt Bus bound for Boston. Day 3.
DAY ONE:
It's been a while since I've traveled to the NYC with intentions of staying for a while. Last year, I was supposed to go on my first baseball trip ever to watch the Mets, the Yankees, and the Phillies. Never happened. Got sick - 103 degree sick - and the whole trip and a bunch of money had to be scrapped.
Before that, there was the weekend quick-trip, which was fun, but all too short. It was the summer of 2007 and Nikki had only a few months left in Albany, Lisa was in Manhattan for a month, and Jen Jen was having her 16th birthday party. That weekend was a whirlwind - and always fun - but, like I said, all too short. I really only had 1 half day and one night in Manhattan. Still made it out to some regular jaunts: Gray's Papaya, Canal St., the Lower East Side to party, Washington Square Park, and it was also the first time I heard of and tasted THE Halal cart.
Okay, so enough of the recapping of old trips.
This NY trip is also different because it's the first time I'm traveling with someone.
Day One starts at home. Union City. And my DVR. And bike. Knowing that I'm planning to stuff myself with grease and salt and cholesterol annd all the stuff that makes anything taste good while eating your body up inside, I made sure to jump on the bike to deal with my guilt.. I mean burn some calories and be heart-fit.
Huong comes by early to pick me up but before we go we catch the season finale of BONES like we scheduled earlier in the week. I'll talk about bones on Livin' Proof.
We leave and head towards San Jose to get some odds and ends done down there including her putting her yoga mat in the washer, me getting some coffee, and we getting some food for the plane. Then we were off - to the airport, to the gate, to the plane, and to New York.
Since last summer, maybe, I picked up and committed to finishing the last half of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. 2-5 pages at a time, I've slowly worked my way through and thoroughly enjoyed the final part. I had 30 pages left to go before leaving California and I hoped to get it done in San Jose so I wouldn't have to pack it and carry it during the trip. Didn't happen, although I did finish it before we officially left the gate in the plane. More on that later.
We arrive in NY after a.. technically.. 9 hour flight (with time change) and jump into Carlo's GTI on the way home to Queens for a quick overnight stop before we run off to Manhattan. Like always, Queens was about catching up with family - especially the cousins, Tita Ems, and Lola. Like always, there was a lot of food - too much food. Like always, it was chinese food.
The night was nicely warm in Carlo's room with the ceiling fan going and the sound of it playing the nostalgic soundtrack of my past trips.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Sunny Saturdays Return!
Finally - a beautiful Saturday with a mostly clean slate on the calendar. Unfortunately, the only parts of the calendar that were set were somber (a funeral and a visit at the hospital). Maybe it was fitting, since life doesn't just happen - and life is best lived with reflection and with simple indulgences of happiness.
So. With that.. it was a beautiful Saturday.
Saturday lunch happened at Flourishing Garden for Dim Sum. Not exactly sure of everything we ordered, but it was a lot - and it was pretty damn good. We got in right before 12 so we were able to beat any lunchtime rush.
After dim sum, we visited my uncle at the hospital. He's been in and out of the hospital since December and it was my first time to visit. It was humbling. It was sobering. I was caught off guard with his condition. Just a couple of days since his surgery - he was still affected by anesthesia. He was weak. He wasn't speaking as clearly. He was restless. And I talked to my aunt as she focused on her husband's frailty as she attempted to stay strong. I couldn't imagine what she's thinking.
We left the hospital towards no particular destination. She wanted water. I wanted coffee. We were close to De Anza college, so we took that exit and headed towards the shopping center with Coffee Society. The park across the street was hosting the World Journal Mother's Day Festival or something so the parking lot was full. We found a parking spot next to an opening in the shopping center to cut through the inner part of the shops - it's sort of like a courtyard. While walking to the coffee place, we saw people eating frozen yogurt, so we decided to take a detour.
What a great detour. I'm no fro-yo aficionado, but since it was a warm day, I didn't mind getting something sweet and cold. The fruit-named fro-yo joint this time around was The Orange Tree. What surprised me was the flavor of their TARO yogurt. It tasted a lot like the Ube ice cream at Mitchell's in San Francisco. So I jumped all over it. I also got some of the lychee yogurt. She got the same plus some blueberry yogurt that tasted pretty damn good also. Some yogurt places have yogurt with a hint of said flavor. This time around, the flavors were robust. I threw in some ground graham cracker, green apple jelly, lychee jelly, strawberries, almonds, and some walnuts. MMM. Damn. Good. DAMN GOOD DETOUR. It was nice sitting in the courtyard just chillin' with some sun and some shade and sharing some dope ass froyo.
After we stomped through the froyo, we proceeded north on 280. Not having anywhere else to specifically go, we jumped onto the windy ass 84 and headed to Pescadero. I've been wanting to explore the block-and-a-half of the small town since I drove through it on my way to a meeting for work. When we finally got to Pescadero - after the loooong and wiiiinding road - we parked on Stage Rd. and walked said half block. The first Pescadero main-highlight we tried out was the gas station slash Taqueria called Los Amigos and had two carne asada tacos. Pretty good. The carne asada was chopped into small pieces and had some pieces fried so crispy that they were carnitas-like. There was a habanero sauce on the table that I hadn't tried yet called.. I think.. El Yucatero. I put a couple of drops on the first taco and it seemed fine. Not sure what happened with the second taco and if I happened to bite into the motherload of drops but for a few minutes I was sort of TKO'd from the spice to the point that I was tearing. It was good, but it was burning the back of my throat that chips made it worse. It was pretty funny. I'm not all big and bad with spice, but I've never been put to tears. Now I know what it feels like. Good stop.
We mosied over 1 mile to Harley Farms' Goat Farm. It's quite renowned for its great goat cheese. I don't really like goat cheese all that much, but it was interesting to be there. There was some brown sheep. I saw the milking barn. And there were a whole mob of hungry goats congregating towards the barn like they knew it was time to come home. I tried some goat cheese spread that was good but reminded me that I wasn't a big fan of the goat cheese. I also put on some goat milk lotion. I never knew there was such a thing.
After Pescadero, we headed north on Highway 1 and stopped at Pomponio State Beach. The waves were hitting hard. The water was hella cold. And it was enclosed by two huge cliffs that showed layers of generations in rocks. Geology rocks. Yup.
After a lap around the beach taking pictures, trying to be artsy, and me being geologically nerdy - we headed up north to Half Moon Bay. The sun was still out - but we had about 3 1/2 hours left of sunlight as we figured out from a method I learned on TV. We walked around downtown Half Moon Bay for a few minutes and were about to head over the hill before I remembered about Crab Bread. With the beauty of smartphones - we found that the said Crab Bread was available just behind us.
We went to Flying Fish Grill right on Main St. and 92 - next to the fish market and the produce market. We ordered the Cheesy-Crabby Bread, the calamari dinner with grilled vegetables and sweet potato fries. Once again. MMMM. As if it wasn't much of a real epiphany, we agreed: "we've eaten some good ass food today."
We capped off the days proceedings with a quick stop at a fruit stand on 92 and Trader Joe's in San Mateo. Purchases: a crate of strawberries, cherries, two apple pears, grapefruits, and gala apples.
We brought some strawberries to the Fremont Quintanas and headed home where some huge oysters were waiting to be shucked.
And the sun went down. And the DVR turned on. And the fruit was eaten. And all that good stuff. Good Saturday.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Men and Immaturity
Ladies, get ready to applaud a statement that's utterly common sensical to you and a bit of a redundancy:
Men are immature.
Do I need to explain more? Probably. Will I? Of course!
On Sunday, I was at the Giants vs DBacks game and sitting a few seats from me was a middle-aged man who obviously LOVED his Giants baseball. Well, he loved the team, not so much the current brand of baseball he was watching throughout the game (lack of clutch hits, lack of run production, etc.). He sat there with his, I assume, Father's Day issued Giants Hawaiian shirt, his hat, sunglasses, and vociferous growl ready to exclaim the positive and negatives throughout the game as any fan would do.
He was enjoying his game and was an otherwise pleasant dude until he was getting a bit enhanced with the beer and maybe probed by the pitcher's duel (or battle of anemic offenses - not sure which one was more appropriate that day). It wasn't anything too bad. He was cordial with everyone around. He was nowhere nearly annoying, offensive, and needing-of-a-slaptastic-shut-your-damn-ignorant-mouths idiots that sat behind me at the A's home opener.
And, maybe I should remove the focus from him. He sparked reflection. His day of solitude on a beautiful Sunday afternoon - perfect for a day at the ballpark - and his random shouts, random grunts, random musings to himself, random utterances of "sweet" - all, again, in a sense of solitude like no one else was around but him and the teams playing the game. So, is that immature? Not so much. It's a middle aged dude hanging out a ballpark. Big F'n deal, right?
Well, a few innings into the game, two middle aged ladies walked down to the front of our section, camped out in the front row, and watched the game. They were dressed younger than, I assume, my mom had worn as a middle-aged woman: black tank-tops with sequin-encrusted SF logos, jeans, flip flops, manicures, pedicures, nice earrings, and I think bracelets. And, again, it wasn't so much all that was worn, but how they carried themselves. Eventually, one of them stood up in the middle of the inning while on her cell phone trying to make sure someone, I think on the Field Level - 3rd Base side, saw them waving. One also had a pretty good tan going. I'm not sure if it was natural or tan-bedded/sprayed. Big F'n deal, right?
Well, I just wonder what most of us would think - would judge - when we see those types of folks. On one end, I hear someone who could easily be a father of one of the youth I work with sounding more like a high school kid in his responses to the game. On the other, women, mothers, who seemed to be at the game more to be seen and to have a party than to hang out with their children or families.
Yes, two very judgmental descriptions. But really, what would you think?
Age is a cultural construct. Age, in our world, is fluid. But really, who, of those two archetypes, is looked down upon more? The man who loves his team so much to be caught up into a game that he cusses and reacts like he was seeing his first ballgame ever? The women who were trying to have a fun Sunday afternoon with her "girl" and basically leaving their interactions with their children at a minimum?
*****
Those experiences made me think of other interactions with men that I may have had or have seen - like seeing how my uncles interact with each other, how I am with the fellas, how grown men are expected to react to various stimuli in the world (let's say a baseball game, a boxing match, a dirty joke, a naked woman, a ridiculous sale on a gadget that we totally don't need).
Now, I know this is also very gender-biased - not all men are into sports, into naked women, into tech stuff - but a lot of us are at some higher level of geekiness.
I think there's a double standard. We're allowed to act like fools within realms of sports fanhood, physicality, and other items. Women are expected to be excited about the same - but feverishly invested is far less allowed. Is this too much generalizing? Probably.
But, there is a double standard.
Then, the other night, I finally watched the South Park episode, "Eat, Pray, Queef". And basically, the premise was that when men farted it was funny to the men. When women queefed, the same men found it ridiculously obscene and gross.
Stan's dad summed it up: "It stopped being funny the second air came out of her vagina!"
And I thought it was fitting (and really ridiculously funny) since I hadn't watched this episode until after my reflective moment at the game.
***
Where does this put me at my level of maturity in life? I'm pretty confident that I'm immature in most matters that matter - too amped up for sports, I love the double meaning, I chuckle at any possible "that's what she said" moment, Rated R movies are still solid gold to me, I still try to march to my own beatbox. I get to work. Do my work. Do some parts of it rather well. Get shit done. Go home. Watch TV. Watch sports. Write on a webpage. Hang out with a really cool girl. Not read. Not have a 403B. Not have to be home at any specific moment. Not be much of anything but a 30-year-old that says with almost full sincerity that he was 29-that-went-on-to-13.
But I'm not a scrub. I handle my business when needed. I just try to avoid business at all cost. And no, I'm not talking about work, only.
I'm a man. I'm immature. And for the most part, it really doesn't matter.
And I'm not sure if that freedom or if that's pathetic.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sadness - the ghost town
Prosemonkeyverse is dead as dead could be - going back a few months. Geez.
Been spending some time reading the archives on supergaling and on livejournal. A bit of a trip, as usual.
It feels weird to post nowadays without anything particularly interesting or poignant or relatively important to say, but I guess this isn't what this shit is for. Who reads this anyway?
Waste. Of. Time.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
in a different life
in a different life,
your words would flow next to mine
with the same scheme,
with a smooth rhyme,
your lyrics and decadence
proclaiming my relevance to their
existence.
in a different life
your eloquence would mix
with my broken syntax,
like needles on wax
and expose the allusions
of romances timed perfectly
in our compositions.
in a different life,
these hollowed out bullets
of letters and punctuation
wouldn't cause death but creation -
the manifestation
of two individually beautiful
fragments run-on
but given meaning by a semi-colon.
in a different life,
in a different atmosphere
where our paralleled bodies would interweave,
histories would matter less
than the volumes of stories bound in sheathes
like swords or sharp quills,
the thrills of the flirtation
of our energies
more addictive than the initial butterflies
or reality tv.
in a different life,
where you write too much,
and my hand gets fatigued,
where I speak in mixed metaphors
and indulgent discretion,
you are the footnotes of expert translation,
the solemn ear to my confession.
but in that different life,
there would be no sins for which to atone,
or reasons for unrequited feelings
to be left silent and alone.
in that different life,
the listed long complications screaming resolutely
would be laughed at and paid no mind
for their futility.
A different life isn't real,
but you are. and I am.
and the rhythms and literary expanses
and spoken diatribes of love, life, and general
dissatisfaction of anyone else -
are real.
but the more we confide and the more we delve,
the more we can't get over ourselves.
in this life,
we are just bad love poetry repeated
with images of different faces,
same verbs but different subjects -
and the same us
refusing to overcome the reasons
that we swim aimlessly in a sea of words
with no cohesion.
Monday, January 05, 2009
DAYAMN.... 2 months??
It's 2009!!! Nothing new.
Just wanted to post these thoughts from the Vegas trip in December..
Lots of coincidentals that weekend.. that basically reminded me that I was where I was supposed to be that weekend. Not sure why. Not sure why it's even an issue. I guess, maybe, I second guessed the purpose of being there that weekend once all the peeps started falling off the list and weren't able to go.. but it wasn't.
It was great hanging out with Mon and having that hella long ass late ass heart to heart that we haven't had in a few years. It was great having fun with Thy. It was great hanging out with Estee and Dior.. and knowing that she had a fun weekend! =) And it was great meeting my newest nephew: Karisio and seeing Ange and her family.
So, the coincidentals that fit the rest of my the previous months of "strange energy".
1) The first day we got there, the wind was going CRAZY! It wasn't so cold, but the wind-chill factor was nuts. So, at some point we were able to see tumbleweed roll by in front of our car. Then, the wind was so thick that it was blowing the wind on the ground and I thought.. "hmm, that looks like the snow when it's storming up in the mountains." Then, the day we left, as many of us have seen already, it was SNOWING!
2) At one point in the weekend, we went to Popeye's to buy Estee's bro some food (like 3 hours AFTER we left the house). I wanted to get Macaroni and Cheese for a side, but they didn't have any. Then, on Monday, at Ange's place, there was Mac and Cheese. Yeah, silly. But really, Mac and Cheese don't exist in my life all too often.
3) Sunday night in Vegas with another day to recover. What did we do? Yup. Sat in front of the computer and looked up old school videos on YouTube. We went from old school to slow jams to 80's cheese to the genius-years of Michael Jackson. I said I wish I could go to a show of MJ's if it was the 1980s version of him. On the way back from Summerlin, we heard on the radio that MJ was thinking of going on tour again.
4) Actually, on the same trip back (and maybe to Summerlin), they were talking about TLC and T-Boz. They were part of the youtube night. (Red Light Special, Creep... hmm.) And at some point we were also listening to Franzen from KMEL fame. Nothing really coincidental except that it was a very high school memory type weekend and listening to KMEL was essential during that time.
5)Finally, there was the Brady Bunch. What? Yes. Because I was saying that it was my 13th birthday - my introduction to adolescence and graduation from puberty, I referenced the Brady Bunch story when Peter's voice started to crack. Remember the song.. "When it's time to change.. you got to re-arrange"? So, at Summerlin, Ange and family were watching a DVD of random Brady Bunch episodes.
Silly strange fun.
I realized they wouldn't have happened if I didn't go to Summerlin. I guess, it's simple. Anytime spent laughing, sharing, talking, and partaking in happiness with family (and friends) is worthwhile!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Crazy Energy Revisited: "peacocking"
The strange coincidences started to fade away.. that.. or I haven't been paying as much attention lately. Work's been getting busier and with the Election and Nanowrimo converging at the same time, life's been more of an afterthought.
Maybe October was just - self-indulgence month. Food, beer, psuedo-drama, hopeful things, and whatnot. That meant understanding myself and the world around me were priorities number one and one-a. With the other parts of life becoming the forefront, all of the esoteric hippie shit gets pushed in the back-burner. (Not completely though.)
So, lately, I've been thinking of the idea of "peacocking" a bit more. As you know, the peacocks have the beautiful feather patterns and they expose them as a mating ritual. (Or so I assume). So, peacocking means "getting your game on" or "showin' out". It means.. digging out of this desired hole of anonymity that I've somehow grown into. It means.. stop feeling wrong for trying to self-advocate. It means.. being out there in the world showing folks that I'm worth knowing and that it's your loss if you don't know me. Of course.. not in a cocky, a-holeish way.
I joked on FB on Friday that I would be peacocking in the city while I would be watching Cal play (aka get their ass handed to them by) USC. (They fought valiantly, actually - but just overmatched). So, it was just another same old-same old at Yancy's. Nothing wrong with that. Football, beer, friends, scrabble, cards, silliness, and all that.
Hung out at C-mo's former crib with former roomie.
Watched a few episodes for The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Saw that the school, the phony University of LA, had a mascot of PEACOCKS. I'm sure it had to do with the show being on NBC, but I thought it was funny. I didn't intend to be out that late. I never thought I'd EVER EVER EVER be in that house again. I MEAN.. EVER! And, there I was.. 2am in the morning seeing a random "peacock" reference after supposedly "peacocking" earlier in the night.
Neither had much weight though since there wasn't much to peacock for, but I thought it was funny.
So, maybe the great energy came in the expected (and LONG) path of changes our world will be undergoing.. and how much this feeling is different from 4 years ago.. wasn't what that energy was alluding to. The good energy moves on.. even in spurts.. but it goes on. Just not sure what all that means.
As usual.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Getting over you..
Funny the songs we use to get over people.. here we go. In the vain of the stages of grief or something.. (This is more of my younger self.. but I thought it was funny what I've used to "get over people").
Stage 1: Denial.
The denial here is that she doesn't mean anything to me and that it's lighthearted enough because.. I'm in denial that I don't like her all that much.
Song: "You're Not the 1" - The Grouch
Honorable Mention: "Big Pimpin'" Jay-Z
Stage 2: Anger.
I realize that I have deeper rooted feelings for her. I realize that there was an opportunity that something could've happened. I realize that I'm tired of her bullshit games.
Song: "Sic Wit Tis" - Mac Mall
Honorable Mention: "Your Gyrlfriend" - Kurupt
Stage 3: Bargaining
I realize that I'm less angry at her than I am at the situation. I sulk sulk sulk thinking that I have control of the situation. Not her. I pretend I have control. I pretend that I'm leaving her behind. I pretend that it's better for her.. and me.
Song: "Do What I Gotta Do" - Ralph Tresvant
Stage 4: Depression
I realize that all I can do is sulk. I realize that I'll be single forever. I realize that all this sadness just makes me respond with negativity. I am spiteful.
Song: "Superman" - Eminem
Stage 5: Acceptance
I realize that.. FUCK IT.. life is good. I realize that the sulking from the days before was just all silly. What's the best thing to do? Start the cycle over again.. find someone to crush on.
Song? No song.
MOVIE: "SWINGERS"
"I don't want you to be the guy in the PG-13 movie everyone's *really* hoping makes it happen. I want you to be like the guy in the rated R movie, you know, the guy you're not sure whether or not you like yet. You're not sure where he's coming from. Okay? You're a bad man. You're a bad man. You're a bad man, bad man."
- Trent
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
6:28PM Election Day 2008
4 years ago I was naïve.
I chose to believe.
I acted on conviction,
Represented my heart with full distinction.
Sick of the world. Fighting for change.
Got caught up in hope
I couldn’t maintain
Levity in an unfair world,
I begged for folks to be heard,
The injustices would stop,
I thought… we were smarter than not.
But with electronic machines
And without paper trails,
The momentum prevailed.
The wrongness prevailed.
Repeated mistakes by the people
Fighting for decreased rights of the people
Does it ever.. change – whatever the face?
Whoever it is that wins this race?
Is there reason for me to believe,
Beyond thundersticks or magic tricks revealed,
That democracy prevails in the face of
Tyrannical hail,
The oppression from fear…
What do they matter, the numbers we near
If Wednesday’s just like Monday
Without the bickering ads or
the pundits’ play-by-play?
Presidents have come, and presidents have left,
But the same suspects are the same victims
Victimizing ourselves in rhythm,
And propositions and legislation
Keep passing in the eyes of the constitution’s devastation.
4 years ago, we fought for the same,
The economy, the war, the shame
Of democracy’s endorsement of the dissolution
Of civil right,
The same old fight. The same old fight.
4 years ago is 4 years fast foward,
4 years ago is today. It’s Tuesday,
And to what do what to look toward?
Today is a new day of the same old,
Same old struggles with the future of the people sold,
To the same 5% who have controlled the world,
The ones with the money and agendas unfurled.
So tell me, again, why my anxiety
should be anything but given their puppetry
given that society
keeps telling we,
that only certain people, with certain ideas
and certain bank accounts
deserve equality
in our mythical land of liberty.
Tell me what stones we have left to throw
At the folks we don’t want to know
And want to keep swept into a corner
Adept in the corner so we continue not to know
Or to understand or to bestow
Rudimentary human decency
Because today, like 4 years ago, we don’t know what that means.
There are the faces, the ages, the situations
The bad choices, the lack of atonement, the insinuations
The grieving, the leaving,
The heartbeats lost to the sheathing
Of swords fought in modern day crusades,
Why decide to pray if you’re just hoping for hate today?
The hearts broken, the hope taken, the children left sick,
Because their parents are given tricks.
Criminalization and fingers pointed.
It’s not us. It’s them. We say. With their guiltiness anointed.
They’re wrong. We’re right. Is that right?
Why are we so eager to incite instead of pushing for insight?
Is this what is supposed to excite me?
4 years after I hoped upon hope for the best in society.
And got the least.
Should I expect more than another defeat?
Because 4 years from now, is there any proof
That all this, just won’t
Repeat?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
more great energy..
It's weird what our decisions lead us to.. in timing and subsequent things that unravel. More crazy energy.
On Saturday, I went to Razelle's place to celebrate Nathan's 4th birthday. I bought him a reversible hoodie from Old Navy. I didn't get a gift receipt. I made a mental note that I'd tell Razelle that I had the receipt if she wanted to exchange it.
Fast forward to today. Randomly, I found out that Fable 2 was released and that it came with a $15 itunes gift card at Circuit City. Stayed a bit later at work. While driving home decided to pass by Circuit City though didn't officially make the choice until I got off the freeway. Went to Circuit City.. as usual, they didn't have any stock. Roamed around for a few more minutes. Then left.
Went across the street to Target because I needed shaving gel.
So as I was walking to the entrance, there was a dude outside and mumbled as i walked by if I listened to rap. I think he was trying to sell his cd. But it was dark. And hollering it like that wasn't very comforting.
I went straight to the shaving gel and picked up a canister. Went to the video games and checked out some stuff. Roamed around a bit in the dvds. Decided I wanted to stock up on deodorant. Got some. Then, as I was walking towards the registers, I saw some polos on sale. Checked them out. Flipped around to the other side and then I found a transformers t-shirt on sale for $7! (Optimus, Hot Rod, Bumblebee and Jazz. The originals.) Lolly gagged a bit. Walked around the the fitness clothing looking for new pants for nighttime athletics. Then, I was done. At some point, I reminded myself that I had to tell Razelle that I had a receipt.
Had the choice of 4 or 5 different registers. Chose one. Paid. Left. I decided to go straight out the exit and go a meandering way to my car to avoid the dude selling CDs and as I was on my way, I looked up and saw a familiar silhouette (it was the walk). I ran into Razelle and Nathan! Now, it's not such a big deal I guess since I run into people at times at Target, but I was just thinking of them and I also spent much much more time there than I expected to. It's not like the few other times that I saw people right when I entered.
Anyway, the funniest part was that Nathan showed off his shirt to me.. a Transformers t-shirt! So, I showed him what I just bought. By chance, I saw that Transformers shirt.. on sale.. and there were NO other Transformer shirts when I saw it.
So. The crazy weird vibe continues.
Goodness coming. I know it.
Friday, October 17, 2008
The Energies: Something's Coming
Preface: A Quote from The Alchemist: "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."
Part 1: Thursday Evening Work
I was in my office barely after 5pm lollygagging. I was planning to leave at least 5-10 minutes earlier, but for some reason I was just lounging around as I sometimes do. One of our youth strolls in looking for a training my coworker was leading at a different office. Good thing I was there so I could drop him off.
At the training, I stayed for a few minutes longer than I had expected just to talk and to eat some pizza. I was craving pizza the day before and earlier in the day. I also provided paper towels and plastic utensils from my car that I hadn't removed in months. I always intended to bring them into the office.
I was outside of the room when a lady came in looking for a graduation ceremony for a mentoring program run by the County. I knew two of the people in the room should've known something about it, but I couldn't interrupt them. I tried to help the lady as much as I could - which wasn't much. She was still gracious and left. Eventually, during an activity, I found out where the graduation probably was being held.
As I was leaving, I saw the lady still walking around outside and grabbed her attention. I told her the bank building she was looking for was across the street (there were 3 bank buildings at a major intersection). She was very gracious.
SO.. it all works out. Me not leaving earlier.. our YC being dropped off at the wrong place.. me bringing him to the training.. us needing plastic utensils and more napkins.. lady getting lost.. me staying and leaving at the right time to see her walking around and giving her directions on where to go. It all works out.
Part 2: Counselor Breakfast
I went to a High School Counselor breakfast this morning at Skyline College moreso as a sign of good will for the future collaborations I was hoping to engage the outreach team in. I arrived a bit late after sleeping through BOTH of my alarms. Arriving late allowed me to scan the room and see the people I somehow knew. It also allowed me to meet others who I've emailed in the past.
Anyhow, the breakfast was great. It was so inspiring to see what innovative outreach and retention strategies they were employing through hip hop, ethnic studies, and concurrent enrollment with high schools around the area. It brought me back to what I was writing yesterday about learning.. how a major piece of my heart and soul thrives in the identity of an educator. Even sending out texts and posts and IMs about Dictionary.com got my brain stirring. I thought, yesterday, that maybe I still do have the fire to be a teacher... someday.
So, as I was driving to the office, I decided to get some Hawaiian Drive-Inn. After getting my order, I set out onto El Camino Real to get onto 380 and some pop song by Robyn from the 90s was on the XM channel "The 90's". I didn't pay it much attention, but it somehow got my mind meandering to Vitamin C who sang some graduation song. I never listened to it much, but I thought it would be funny to post the video on FB.
On 101 South, Jason Mraz' "I'm Yours" came on again. Then, I noticed a car drive past me with a personalized license plate essentially reading: "Vitamin C". It was spelled differently. I forgot the exact lettering, but it did read "Vitamin C".
****
I feel like something's happening. Something good. Not sure. But I did appreciate some of the Mraz song's lyrics (because I really didn't listen to them much except for the hook) - basically saying that time's short and why keep putting off what you've wanted any longer. Yes, it was much more sappy, rhymed, and about love.. but I'm hearing it for the big picture.
Even when Lisa pointed out earlier this week on her status that she felt something big was coming.. I was thinking of posting a similar status earlier in the day.
Something big's coming.
Something good's coming.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Learning.. movement.. and another tattoo origin story
One of the larger Youth Development influences here in the Bay Area is the John W. Gardner Center based in Stanford University. I work in Youth Development. It's more than what the "name" may say. If you ever wanted to know.. let's go get coffee. But, I just wanted to share quote..
"“The ultimate goal of the educational system is to shift to the individual the burden of pursing his own education. This will not be a widely shared pursuit until we get over our odd conviction that education is what goes on in school buildings and nowhere else.”"
I love y'all teachers.. and you, my dear friends, know that what you do in the classroom reaches full potential when the students have supplementary education outside of the classroom.. the school yard.. even the world of "academics".
A love of math can come from a love of sports.. and stats.. and fantasy football.
A love of reading can come from sports.. again.. through the sports page and the various websites.
A love of science can come from watching a documentary on surfing or skateboarding.
A love of history can come from talking about the music industry and hip hop.
Anyway. This is a wonderful quote that helps to explain another one of my tattoos. There's a piece that says "philosopher" - obviously because of my pensiveness, enjoyment in reflection, but it's also about the idea of a LOVE for LEARNING. When I was getting it, I was weighing Philosopher versus Creator. I chose philosopher because of the value of a personal love of learning. I got it from my parents. I got it from my mom rarely giving me an answer straight up and instead sending me to a dictionary to find the meanings of the words I asked her for. I got it from my dad because of his inquisitiveness. If we learn to stop asking questions, then we learn to stop learning.
Yet, learning only begins with asking and finding answers. Learning continues with action. And that is why I surrounded the "philosopher" characters with a horse and the character for "destiny". Horses represent movement and action since before cars they were obviously used as transportation and social and communal evolution. What I wanted the combined pieces to say was that my life will only reach its full potential if I, not only keep thinking, analyzing, deciding, and learning, but also take action on the things that matter. That is how I should reach my destiny.
But. But.. as John W. Gardner also stated..
“One of the reasons mature people stop learning is that they become less and less willing to risk failure.”
I get complacent. Comfortable. Cynical. Shut off. Fearful. A cog of the system versus a catalyst for the system.
I always was energized by the ideal of "no day, but today". But there's a major disparity between living for the now and getting caught up in it.
Sometimes it takes a while to process the challenges of our daily lives, transitions in life, loss of connection, and idleness, among many other things, but I'm thankful for them. Once the processing is done, the movement happens.
And, for all the various reasons for me to spur movement, I will.
Monday, October 13, 2008
peace by piece... and it all makes sense
PART 1: Peace by Piece
Oct. 11th was locked down a few weeks ago as a meaningful day. I didn't realize the whole weekend would've added to the whole aura.
Woah. Peace by piece. I didn't initially see a title or a post reflecting on that concept, but it totally makes sense. It does.
For a while, I've had that concept of "peace by piece" in my mind as the governing theme of the next tattoo I would get. I've played around with various ideas - never settling on any soso forced imagery that I wouldn't have been happy with. In August, the desire to get one kicked back in and I researched more on symbols of peace. And I found some interesting ideas.. finally deciding on a the Barn Owl.
Why the Barn Owl? Well, the first part came with this article about how for two farming towns in Israel and Jordan the barn owl is a symbol of peace. So, as I researched more on how the barn owl looked and other info on it, I found that it was a very common bird that lived in all continents except for Antarctica. It was a solitary animal that often built homes in established buildings/spaces. Then, the owl in general, has various interpretations across cultures from being mysterious and "deathful" because of its nocturnal nature to being wise and observant. Plus, as the article on the farms evidences, the owl is a crucial part of the ecosystem.
So, in essence, the barn owl is a symbol of peace but is also a piece of numerous natural systems.
The clinchers, obviously coincidental but cool nonetheless, were...
1) as I was biking with Nico back home from Coyote Hills I swear I saw a barn owl fly right in front of us maybe 65-80 yards away. Maybe it wasn't a barn owl. But I swear it was an owl.. light brown.. flat face. I had never seen an owl fly in front of me before and I've biked to that area many times in my life (albeit most when I was a kid). I checked online to see if barn owls were native to Coyote Hills and though rare they do inhabit this area. The other, more common, owl looked nothing like the one that flew in front of us.
2) the next morning, when Nico was in San Diego in a cab going to an interview, the radio talk show was talking about barn owls. He told me about it because of the conversation from the day before.
and...
3) something else that leaned towards it.. but I don't remember.
So, as I researched artists online, I found one that seemed cool. Eventually consulted with her and set the date.. for Oct. 11. As we talked yesterday, she also informed me that she's been looking for a taxidermied owl. So, it seemed to all make sense.
And, the end product, what's living on my arm now, is damn beautiful. I'll show it when it has settled in.
Now.. WHY Peace by Piece? That concept, obviously not coined originally by me, still means something to me. My first domain named "blog" supergaling.com was themed: Peace by Piece. World peace, inner peace, any kind of peace. Piece as in poetry, comments, observations, photos, creation. Piece as in a layout gimmick called an "online quilt" of my thoughts and snapshots into my soul. Peace by piece. I wanted it on my arm, also, because my hands are what I use to physically create as a writer, typer, drawer, photoshopper, publisher, sports player, etc. Peace. By. Piece.
PART 2: the weekend
Before the weekend came a emotionally draining week of moping, weakness, and silly self perpetuated angst.
Friday night, dedicated to a night of hanging out with high school friends, was also the target for some angst-driven drowning. As Mon and I went there, lots of memories were spurred by the neighborhoods and streets we drove to. Since San Jose has many landmarks of my life in them (post college and pre-current life) I was remembering a lot. First street exit on 880. Downtown San Jose. San Pedro. Santa Clara. San Salvador. South First Billiards.
We gabbed about the updates on our lives, differing opinions on "kids these days", and set up a group birthday party for everyone's birthday near or way past gone targeted for December in Vegas. Thanks, Estee, for letting us invite ourselves to party.
Then, as I was slightly enhanced, I talked about, among other things, one of my favorite people, Katie.
Saturday morning was a strange and long familiar feeling of dread, apprehension, dehydration, exhaustion, and relief (that I was more fatigued than anything else). I got ready to go, jumped on Bart, grabbed some cash, had brunch with Claudia, and headed up to the tattoo shop. Oh, driving to Bart included hearing Jason Mraz' "I'm Yours" - and that always reminds me now of Katie because of a cool story she shared with me about a friend of hers who was proposed to with that song as the preface. Oh, and on my way to the city on Bart, I finally listened to Nas' latest album. As usual, it was full of words to make you think (and unfortunately some songs that were cool in concept by corny in execution... I'd like to start a college and make Nas our first professor, though).
During the process, the artist and I had some cool discussions about politics, San Francisco, art, humanity, and other stuff. She finished with everything by 2:45. Earlier in the week, I talked to various people about meeting up in the city. The earliest any of my good friends could meet up was 5. Any other prospects were busy or in other parts of the city (I was in the Mission). I decided to take a walk on 16th from Valencia towards Guerrero. Once I got to Guerrero, I crossed 16th, and walked back to Valencia on the opposite side of the street. As I got closer, I saw a face that looked like Katie's. As I took more steps, I realized it WAS Katie with her friend and her super cool dogs.
So, from that point til around 5:15, I hung out with Katie and company as we sat down for some light food, got up and walked to Dolores Park, I dog sat for 5 minutes and was sufficiently UNprepared, drank out of a paper bag, and chilled as I looked out at parts of the clear skyscape of downtown San Francisco.
The funny coincidence is that Katie and I had talked through some texts about her possibly coming with me when I got my tattoo. Obviously, it didn't happen, but we serendipitously ended up hanging out that day anyway.
At 5:20, I got up to go meet up with Anne - my former supervisor, still current mentor and friend - at Blondie's for a quick "thirst quencher". It was really great to be able to sit down and talk with her especially since last year at work, my first without her guiding and inspiring me, our conversations were buried in work drama and me still, unintentionally, asking her for support. This conversation though was just about life, faith, hope, peace, Jesus the badass, and how all that stuff is converging upon her as she and her partner are planning their wedding. She really is a great person and I'm extremely lucky to have been of thought well enough by her (and the youth who interviewed me.. and Marb and Maria) for her to hire me and really develop my professionally for the two very big transition years after grad school. As she talked about lots of crazy beautiful and crazy crazy things experienced by her recently, she discussed how the aura of this time of the season was making her sixth senses jump - basically about how coincidences were making connections with each other.
After our beverages, we had to part ways and move on to whatever else. I jumped on Bart (after getting to the deck right in time for the direct line to Fremont to arrive) and went home. I passed the Oakland Coliseum in time to watch the Warrior game, but I decided to not watch it and instead JUST go home. I already had plans to go to Sacramento on Sunday morning.. early.
While on Bart, Art and I exchanged texts and decided that I'd come up to meet them for the regular... conversations on the patio, 49er football on Sunday afternoon, and lots of Madden.
When I got to Sacramento, not only were Art, Melinda, and Hum there, but Alex and Barb were there also. I haven't hung out with them for a long, long, long time. They talked shop (aka parenting) and again there were lots of fun moments in the conversation that varied in subjects and varied in place and time - like in college, to childhood shenanigans, to life now as adults. Again, this was just like old times when the guys all lived together at Adams.. and then when Art lived with Alex and Barb in Sacramento and Hum and I would drive up from the Bay.
Saturday fused into Sunday while were still gabbing away. Once Alex and Barb left, Melinda went to sleep, and the rest of us extended our discussion to the patio (in the freakin' coldness and mostly talking about the ills of the niners and some possible solutions) then moved inside to play some Madden until we all were way past ready to sleep.
Once we all woke up for Sunday, it was more of the same. Madden. Niners loss. good times. And we ate Dos for lunch.
PART 3: when it all makes sense
Then I drove home to take the whole weekend in while I flipping through 14+ channels on XM to capture a good song, a good mood, a good groove, and whatever. One of the last songs to play: Jason Mraz, "I'm Yours". Last song to play: Survivor, "The Search is Over".
I thought of how cool the whole weekend was - how serendipitous lots of things were from the high levels of Katie-centric things happening (especially with the Jason Mraz starter and capper).
I thought of how major moments of my life were all represented this weekend: high school, Davis, AARS, and my life right now at yfeezey.
I thought of how much I've changed, evolved, progressed, digressed, and just constantly kept adding more to my existence through each step of the way.
I thought of why I consistently disqualify myself from the idea that I could in fact be the apple of someone wonderful woman's eye.
I thought of why I was in such a funk last week (and basically for the past few weeks or months).. but particularly last week because of the same old BS about unrequited romantic opportunities - of the various ways of rejection I experienced... or at least perceived to be rejected.
I thought of how I may have wrongly assessed the rejections.. if they were rejections at all.
I thought of why they mattered in the first place and why I let things like that get into my head instead of constantly eating up and thriving off of the good times like what this weekend provided.
I thought what it was that made this weekend so special - the conversations, the world conspiring to bring long distanced friends into my physical sphere, the meaningful talks, the hope through change, the laughs, the smiles, the real - deeper leveled connection.
I thought of how this was the 10 year anniversary of the Best Summer Ever and this summer was probably one of my most isolated physically and more importantly emotionally and soulfully from most of my friends.
I thought of how the void was real and how deeply affected I was by it.
I thought of "The Search is Over" and how, when taking out the cheesy romantic part, the song really spoke to why I've been who I've been for such a long time: the pickiness and sometimes pettiness, the singlehood, the lone wolfing, the self-sabotaging. Since I've been so rich with friendship, investing time in other (new) people (yes, in that way) seemed unnecessary.
I thought of all this and knew I had to write about it. So, when I started to type..
I thought of how my quest for a beautiful tattoo that represented the "Peace by Piece" theme, that physically ended yesterday once the tattoo was finished, really represented this whole weekend.
I thought how that was so cool - how the energies of the world - were truly conspiring together to make it a reality - and now how I've once again found some uplifting spiritual roots from The Alchemist.
I thought of how it all makes sense, how I've been complacent in many matter, and how that's gotta change.
Peace. By. Piece.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
A real fan letter!
In response to this Outside the Lines: Manny Ramirez on ESPN.com by Bill Simmons the Sports Guy.
I wrote this to Bill Simmons:
"Hey Bill,
The first piece of yours I ever read was about Paul Pierce and it inspired me to write sports columns (albeit, at the time, about wrestling).
So, since then, I've religiously flocked to your picks, your mailbags, your, Curious Guys, and anything else. Now, while the mailbags when you're on fire have given me some of the most entertainment, I always referred back to the first piece about Paul Pierce as the most meaningful I guess. It brought me back to my senior year English teacher who tried to hammer in us the "show don't tell" type of writing, and I thought she was nuts because I couldn't figure it out. Eventually, I must've learned because I passed the class, went on to college, graduated and did all that wonderful stuff. But, what really grabbed my attention was how, in that article referring to a dinner you had with him, you showed us how he LOVED basketball. You didn't tell us. You proved it. As a person who loves the craft of writing, I totally appreciated it on multiple levels.
Anyway, this is going longer than I expected. I've sometimes attempted to contact you to respond directly to your columns, but usually to and unsuccessfully be witty enough to land on a mailbag. Actually, I did.. in dubious distinction. I was the numbnuts that kept referring to David Stern as "Daniel" Stern.
But, I'm writing this because I just decided to end any productivity here at work, the final 15-45 minutes of my day, and read your OTL article on Manny. I just want to thank you for writing it because it was pretty damn exquisite. I don't think I've ever used that word before, but it was. Aside from the truisms, like Manny always working out his slumps in a very well timed extended at bat. Being an A's fan, I've seen it.. a lot. He's killed our hopes more often than I'd like to count, but I love that guy. Like you said, baseball's extremely individual - and that's what he was. He WAS baseball because he wasn't BASEBALL. Does that make sense? It does to me. (To steal a line from you.)
Aside from the truisms, I just appreciate the way you were able to write about the pathology of an aching sports fan. Others have done it, like some article I just found online by some professor who's a cubs fan, but I was completely engrossed by your exploration of Manny, the situation, and your "showing not telling" of the conundrum he creates in you as a real fan.
Alright. I hope you read this despite its length. Thank you, sir. Great job!"
Friday, September 26, 2008
11 Years-Plus
11 years ago
came the day
the last time
i was important to someone.
11 years ago,
i shared a love,
a love like woah,
that swiftly left
as we outgrew each other.
11 years ago,
she was lost
to be found once again,
as a friend,
but only to be lost
once more.
Each time gashed an everpresent scar
in their unique ways.
11 years ago
came our time.
And it was love while it lasted.
And happily left
in the past.
Lamented is shared love,
the vacancy of symbiosis
where my nerdy, liberal, psuedo-artistic self
met her intelligent, quirky, hyper-brilliant essence.
Because there was no her.
Or if there was,
there was no me.
Or if there was,
the seasons were gravely different
on our planets.
11 years of a beautiful life
experienced primarily primary.
Solitude was champion
in the tournament of wilted roses.
A man emerged from the garden
comfortable in his own glory -
no matter how self-indulgent it was.
Content. 10 years and months to spare
equate contentment.
But 11 years plus does not.
11 years-plus means that
the man knows nothing of love -
at least the love transcribed in adulthood.
Thus.
The void.
Where basks the sincerity of companionship,
of the connection of two souls,
felt in the romantic sense?
stomach problems
day one had the stench
of fresh, organic
peaches -
sitting in the heat.
the aching discomfort
sucked.
day two may still have had remnants
of the peaches.
maybe the mints that soothed my mouth
cast battles against
the sanctity of
the easy-feasy daily stat. quo.
day three and four
still had inklings of the nasty feelings -
maybe more peaches. maybe a few day old beans.
but day five had a different ill will.
the empty stomach and
and the triple dosage of caffeine
and parmesan cheese contributed for the physical.
but the sad songs, the yearning for connection,
the hope of the "finally, this time"
with you,
with you again
leaves my stomach the most disturbed,
the most discontent -
from you again,
for the same reasons, again.
I'm sick.
I feel sick.
You.
make me sick.
sleep deprived, worst way to end a good day,
can't fall into slumber
due to disappointment.
avoidance of the next day
when i have to deal with you -
and your mixed messages -
and my illogical decoding -
for a full day.
and another.
accepting hope
meant the barriers were weakened.
this week i saw your eyes.
i saw your happiness.
i saw you vulnerability.
i emerged. i emerged from my shell.
the cheesey, stupid, disgustingly
sentimental
and foolishly hopeful,
charmingly cavalier me
said hello to the world
because i thought you were ready to say
hello back.
finally.
but not.
not. again.
and now i'm sick.
over you.
because of you,
because i can't get over.
you.
WTF?
Is the internet crashing or is there something wrong with my computer or internet connection?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
floating
*** floating ***
I.
listlessly aimless
drifting in the dreaded
darkness,
the purgatory for the
once hopeful,
for the once unrestrained
pursuit of happiness,
for the once believed
happy ever after
to this common story.
said in jest, the ideal of contentment,
maintain sincerity.
it's difficult to believe
in rays of hope
when the sun shines brightest
on all planets but yours.
or at least, it seems that way
from the audience's side
of life's cinema.
but when asked to confront
the realities of a spirit without its compliment,
without its guidance,
without its motivation
to be something to someone for eternity,
this beat,
this heart,
this man
is substantially
incomplete -
a crossword puzzle
with no clue
or space to fill.
this man,
like the words of the puzzle
eager to make its home
on the paper,
is floating -
listlessly aimless,
drifting on a sea of
dark-directionless-dread.
when once, this man
flowed like his verses,
is now -
incoherent fragments,
so much so that poems speak to him less
than elusive romances do.
II.
but there is one poem. this one.
this current amalgamation of lost thoughts
of being lost in world gone undetectable
by a monochromatic soul.
the dark shades hiding my iris fear
the sight.
she smiles.
dark brown illuminates the eyes,
the dull, dreary gaze diminished
with the polish of her pleasantness,
the zeal of her encouragement
bring shine back allowing clearer vision.
she smiles.
the frozen gray and purple lips,
thaw and feel warm -
and come alive achieving their natural
mixture of brown skin tone and human flesh -
like moth
eagerly wanting to land
on the fiery life force of the thriving flush
of her
living lips.
she smiles.
the dry, arid contours of his cheeks
like the Badlands,
so thirsty for nourishment,
get fed.
moisture replenishes like her lips
were the first rain filling thirsty marshlands
welcoming back the season of life.
she smiles.
melting the hardened clay of a mask
worn on escapades unfinished
and journeys never launched,
the glimmer of possibility,
of an opportune glance returned,
of a deep breath taken and held
hoping that it was aimed at his spirit,
reflects on his newly freed face.
he floats.
he smiles.
- r4 09.16.08
