officially cool

i am now officially cool.

before i was mostly unofficially cool, but today that has all changed. you see, dear reader, one is not officially cool until one decides to dedicate their entire Sunday in the striving towards something most incredibly delectable and unique.

today happens to be that kind of Sunday, and so today i am officially cool.

it all started with an idea, as most unabashed bouts of coolness do, but then it evolved into the most beautiful of ideas...

how does one spend a Sunday afternoon in one’s house in italy? a house at the base of the Dolomiti no less...and on a Sunday that is laden with storm clouds and the strong wind that ravages the flowers on our front porch so...

i’ll tell you how. a person wakes up brilliantly with a flash of inspiration and says to one’s self (and anyone else who may happen to find themselves in the immediate vicinity):

“do you know what i’m going to do today? i’m going to figure out how to make pizza dough and i’m going to make the best pizza in the whole world!”

because if you think about it, what could possibly contribute more to your happiness than the best pizza in the whole world... let alone if you were responsible for it’s creation? AND if you got to partake in its extraordinary culinary delightment?

it is truly a recipe for happiness.

and so it was made. and it was cooked. and it was eaten with much grinning and overjoyment.

you too can be this cool.

la concerta

tonight there was a concerta. it was a small one in a small town down the way to the west towards Belluno. it took place in a small art-cafe named ArtCafe le Maschere run by a wonderful woman named cinzia in a purple shirt.

the music was fantastic. i really wish you could have heard it. i love the singer and she was delving into all kinds of jazz renditions of the likes of Morecheeba and Lauryn Hill. there was a bassist and a trumpet and a drummer and a pianist. there was groove galore and not a foot in the house escaped tapping... not a head in the place escaped nodding to the flow... to the pulse of the soul. there was cake to be had and i was invited to display my work up on the walls in august.

not a bad Saturday in my long list of Saturdays.

a casa

why is it that nowhere feels so good in bare feet?

i am home

the stashe

how can something be as ridiculous as a mustache? it escapes me why anyone would want to sculpt their facial hair into a small hemisphere above their upper lip. kids find them somewhat scary. villains in westerns always had them. adolescent boys see them as a mark of manhood that they are yet unable to display.

 

and yet i have one. but not for long.

 

since christmas i have been growing this monstrosity. trimming it occasionally so that the tough little hairs don't curl under my upper lip. all the guys at work grew them. it was a common bond... kind of a *gag* fraternity thing. the spectrum of mustaches that grew over the first four months of this year was spectacular. everything from full-blown butcher's mustaches, to the borat-stache, to cat whiskers. one guy's is blonde and very fair haired, to the point that it is almost invisible in a photograph, but he perseveres.

 

the time has come to cast off these ego bearing follicles. to bare my upperlip to the world in all it's naked glory. to shave where no blade has shaved since christmas... the mustache must go.

 

i must say that i will miss it. over time, it has worked it's way into my life and even into my mannerisms. the mustache is stroked unconsciously when i cook up mischievous plans. the mustache filters and savors the most delectable soups and drinks. the mustache makes me look kind of angry, which at work is a most fantastic side effect... the best way to avoid line-of-sight taskings is to walk fast, seem busy, and look angry. with the mustache, all i have to do is walk fast and look busy, the rest is done automatically.

 

i'm actually afraid to shave it though. as if it has it's own life energy. what would happen if i shaved it off and all the little whiskerbits reassembled themselves in the drain into a sort of frankenstashe that would crawl up the drain at night in search of my upper lip?

 

that could be bad. maybe i'll shave it tomorrow instead

sun spots

when i was in school, i would lay on my back in the grass, close my eyes, and stare at the sun through my eyelids. it was a kind of mindless meditation. no breathing, no imaging, no relaxing, just the infinite shades of red orange yellow and black.

the colors were almost blinding. it hurt my eyes at first. it seemed too bright, as if i didn't trust my eyelids to hold out the fire. then i would settle down. my eyes would slow and focus on infinity. i would shrink inside a womb of skin and feel the heat radiate into me as the colors danced across my vision.

one by one, on the back of my neck, the blades of grass, that i had compressed as i laid down, started to push back.

press

i don't really feel like writing today, but i feel like i need to express.

 

express: to press out.

 

it makes me think of a swelling inside, under the skin, and pressing emotion out through the pores, like sweat that you can wipe away with the back of your hand.

 

i germinated an avocado seed months ago. i stuck three toothpicks into it's side and suspended it in a truncated water bottle bottom in my closet, so it would be dark and warm. for a long time there was no change. just the sense of pressure within; an intuition of potential. over weeks i have watched the case split as the taproot emerged and fumbled down around the bottom of its plastic home. i waited until the shoot stretched from the crown of the seed until i poured out the water and gave it soil.

 

by soil i mean mud. by mud i mean clay. there is no soil in this land. at least not within an arms reach beyond the fence. the clay is mud when wet and dust when dry. there are only a few wonderful days in between when it is just dirt.

 

the shoot stopped growing. it could be because it is adapting to its new medium. it could be because the soil is too wet. it could be because i waited too long to transplant it to dirt. it could be because it is only lit by a single 75 watt light bulb because if i left it outside, its little water bottle pot would dry out in the sun before i could get back from work. it could have given up.

 

i have to trust that it is using its energy to grab the earth with its roots. i have to trust that it is gaining strength and learning about it's new home. i have to trust that it still has that pressure inside that it needs to express... that its soul is still within... with purpose.

 

in the meantime i'll just sit and wait... and wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.

friendshippng

i think it is interesting how we informally choose who we wish to keep in our life as time passes. i was just thinking about that the other day. i have a good friend named kate. i met her in college. she was the roommate of a girl i was dating at the time. i don't talk to the ex-girlfriend at this time (she's the only one i have broken contact with but that's another story), but i still keep in contact with kate.

 

we were acquaintances in school; loose friends who traveled in different circles. we didn't hang out really very much at all, but we always got along when we bumped into each other in the santa cruz universe. i graduated, she graduated, and we went out separate ways.

 

one day, after driving up from southern california to the bay area for the sole purpose of breaking up with a different girlfriend in person, i was on my way back down south when, being rather upset, i pulled off the road in santa cruz with the intent of going to watch the sunset on the beach. i was a mess, mostly because i felt like a total asshole, but a mess nonetheless.

 

i got about halfway there, thought the idea silly for some reason and made a u-turn to head back to highway-1. as soon as i turned around, i saw the flash of a profile that looked like kate, but i didn't recognize the car. it was driving in the opposite direction. in an unconscious motion, i whipped my truck around and turned to follow. i wanted to see if it was kate. it HAD to be her, i could have sworn. in fact, i think i did swear:

 

'holy shit, i think that was kate.' of course i was alone in my car so no one heard me.

 

i followed the car about two miles as it drove down to the shoreline by the lighthouse and around to the north up to natural bridges state beach where the car pulled off at the edge of the sea. i pulled into the lot and parked and walked somewhat clumsily towards the car. the door opened and sure enough it was kate. she thought someone had been following her. obviously i never learned very good super-secret tailing techniques in stalker school.

 

it was SO good to see her. she had always had a wonderful ear and a patient heart and fantastic advice. in a way, she was the perfect person i could have ran into at that time. we talked for a few minutes, watched the sun set, and i asked if she was hungry and wanted to get something to eat. i felt like i had a ten pound sack of old wet tea bags to lift off my heart. we decided on pleasure point pizza and set off.

 

i was excited. life was giving me a friend to talk to exactly when i needed one. a trusted soul. she turned left, but i wanted to take the coast road around to the pizza place so i continued straight. when i got there she was no where to be seen. that was ok, i thought, i'll just get my pizza and grab a table.

 

10 minutes. no kate.

i was a little worried. maybe something happened. i realized i didn't get her cell phone number.

 

20 minutes. no kate.

now something was definitely wrong.

 

25 minutes with no kate i tried calling information to get her number. no luck. then suddenly i panicked with a realization, called information and asked the lady on the other end for the address of pleasure point pizza.

 

which location sir? i have one in pleasure point and one on mission street in santa cruz.

 

FUCK

 

i was fumbling with my keys in the ignition and trying not to drop the pizza slice on the floor as i sped out of the parking lot back towards santa cruz. it took me 10 minutes to get across town and i bounced into the parking lot.

 

no kate.

 

all i wanted was to sit down, have a beer, and a couple of slices of pizza and talk about life. i felt betrayed by the world. the next six hours on the road were absolutely miserable. an eternity of driving though a blurred world. i was already torn up over the breakup, but the fact that i was given the opportunity to spend some time with a beautiful soul and i mucked it up was actually a more painful loss.

 

i didn't get a hold of her until about a month later, when we figured out what had happened. we finally got to share a pizza over a year later, and we got our conversation about life and love and paths through the middle. now we still keep in touch... sporadically at times, but that's how it is with friends. it's always good to hear from her.

 

there is something magical about the people we choose to keep in our lives. the relationships might have old or thin or twisted roots; they may be based on chance and happenstance, but they are important nonetheless because somehow, on some level, we choose them... and they have chosen us.

where would you rather be right now?

it's an interesting question. first of all, it implies that you would rather be somewhere else. while this may be true, it also infers that you find yourself in a less than desirable situation, which is not always the case when a person asks you this question. generally it all amounts to focusing on the bad parts of where you are and the good parts of where you aren't.

while it may not make sense to focus on the bad parts of where you aren't, although that might be helpful sometimes, it is generally more constructive to concentrate on the good things of where you are, as small and delicate as they may seem.

aside from the philosophical and chi-related ramifications of asking such a question, it is a good question that a friend asked me recently, albeit somewhat off-handedly.

my first answer was 'with friends and family.' that was fairly easy. that is most definitely where i am-not right now. while my parents, sister, and i may all have strong personalities that cause a modicum of tension when we are all together for an extended period of time, i love being around them. my parents have both been an example, whether they have wanted to be or not, in just about every aspect of my life. as has my sister. as has my cousin elijah. to different extents, they are people that i admire and wish to emulate. why wouldn't i want to be closer to them?

then there is my friends. heather, fairlight, kate, sage, micah, crystal, nick, jeff, angela, and rebecca, to name a few. they have always been there with a patient open ear and a couch if needed. they are my net, and i can only hope that i give the as much support as they give me. it is priceless, intangible, and ever appreciated.

which brings me to my second answer: california.

i haven't been there more than a few days at a time for years, but i still feel like i'm washing the sand of it's beaches out of my ears. i'm sure there is still a little bit of seawater hidden up in one of the upper reaches of my sinuses. it is in my blood, my lungs, and my soul.

when i walked away from california, i wasn't quite sure where the path would take me. i'm surprised where i have gone so far, but i truly wonder how many other places that path will lead me before i end up back there. i am a believer in the road less traveled. i am a believer in forging a path of your own, of creating a unique life and living it for all you're worth. the funny thing about constantly wandering off the path, in search of something unknown and intangible, is that you will never know where you are until you look back. even then, it could be a mystery. another thing about wandering without a map is that people tend to walk in circles. that's fine for me. as long as my circle ends up in california, and as long as i can fill my bag with experiences along the way.

my third answer was the darkroom.

this answer is more symbolic than anything. it represents a place in my life where i am consumed with creation. it represents a place where i have the freedom to spend my time working on images and symbols. it represents the place in me that the artist lives. it represents minimalism and focus. it represents purpose and drive. it represents personal love of expression.

my fourth answer was surfing. i would rather be surfing.

deep space

some far out space shit

cosmic style with planetary type spinning gas masses and huge asteroid belts

heaps and heaps of nothing in a field of potential where particles
spontaneously exist and then are reabsorbed just as quickly...
with the deafening silence of solar systems sliding on massive ball
bearings in a synchronized dance of dizzyness...
where light moves so fast that it leaves a whisper of sound behind
like some sort of intergalactic skidmark...

that's what it's like in my head sometimes

only smaller

and with ears on both sides.

storms

there are a thousand fingers on my rooftop drumming impatiently as the
air above shifts and cracks with the weight of the storm. the thin
metal walls of the trailer magnify each vibration and flex with each
wave of wind. thunder sounds suspiciously like mortar fire and heavy
machine guns in the distance, and all the air in my nose tingles with
ozone.

it recharges me at three in the morning. all i want to do is lay there
and listen, and hope it never fades away.

i remember the sound of the windows in the house that i grew up. i
remember how they would shake in their frames until i thought they
would break when the wind came off the ocean in a grey momentum that
would fold the palm trees over and tear their hair out. i remember
laying in bed, under the covers, and pressing my forehead against the
chilled glass and the rain outside blurred the world. i remember the
feeling of the panes shivering as i stared outward at the whitecaps
inside the breakwater. everything was middlegrey and angry. the air
itself had emotion and screamed.

even then, when i was six, and huddled under my covers with just my
head peeking out… even then, i never wanted it to end.