drinking and devising

ah time for the drunken free write... oh so dangerous:

one never knows what one may reveal after a long week at work and a six pack of beers topped off with a white russian of the upmost caliber... if you don't know, i make a MEAN white russian... they taste more like vanilla ice cream than any sort of beverage. you should be so lucky as to taste one.

tonight was group movie night... unofficially... we watched 3:10 to Yuma, which is an interesting western... it left me feeling more for the 'villian' than for the main character... which is a little disappointing. it actually makes me rethink who the protagonist is in the first place.... more storytime and back plot is given to the 'good' guy, but the denoument seems to hinge more on the 'villian,' so there is a little bit of conflict there.

last night we watched Superbad... which was entertaining in it's own right... a little bit offensive perhaps, but entertaining nonetheless... definitely reminiscent of the shallowness and disconnectedness of high school.

a lot of people liked high school... they think of it as their wonder years... they have fond memories and continue to identify with their social status as it was formed in grade 9.

personally, i thought high school sucked. ever since i was a freshman, i couldn't wait to get to college. really i didn't care where that college was, as long as there were dorm pranks, since that is the 'college experience' that was introduced to me in freshman english by a substitute teacher, who thought that college was truly the time for a person to come into their own....

in the end... he was right... it was glorious.

wow... if any of that makes any sense... it is the result of pure luck.

peace

haiku for you

a haiku dedicated to all of those who have spent too much time at work:

twas dark when i left

and fourteen hours later
dark when i returned

here is another one for your haiku-lovin:

eyelids are heavy
sacks of rice in outstretched hands
beginning to fall

why not one more... we're on a roll:

white kitchen trash can
you reek of wednesday chicken
it's only thursday


thank you... thank you... you're too kind...

kool-aid: here's to drinking it

i find that in my profession (working for the man) there is often a feeling that one needs to forever strive to achieve a certain level that otherwise floats above the average person's head. not everyone will make it to that level, but they are expected to want that final goal just like everyone else. woe to the person who makes it known that they could care less about achieving that order of status, for they shall be smitten and cast aside in the 'lesser jobs.'

in layman's terms: drink the kool-aid... or else.

well, i don't know about you, but i don't really like the taste of kool-aid... it's too sugary... and it turns my lips pink. i'd rather have water, or tea, or coffee, or a beer... mmmmmmm... beer.

apparently though, kool-aid is the generally accepted and government endorsed beverage of choice.

MOST of the time, this isn't a factor... the kool-aid gets passed around and you smile and offer your cup, and after big brother passes on, you make a grand gesture with one hand as you fling the kool-aid behind you with the other.... for the most part, this is highly successful.

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE though, big brother hands you a cup of kool-aid and waits for you to drink it right in front of him. these are the moments i fear. they are the moments when i wonder if my smile is faltering. when i wish i could control that insidious twitch in my left eye. when i hope i don't gag, or worse yet, vomit my kool-aid in a high arch for all to see.

lately though, i wonder if i shouldn't just look someone in the eye and tell the truth... 'no, i'm not interested in your silly kool-aid... that's great that you love it so much, but it's not for me... i prefer (insert favorite beverage here).'

but in the meantime, i don't... i drink it... i smile... i ask for another glass please and i lick my lips and rub my tummy and say, 'gee, isn't that the best kool-aid EVER! EVERYONE should want some.'

it is the little things like these, these little facades, that frustrate me... and somewhere deep inside of me, i wish i could just blow it off and say, 'hell if i care.'

the overall most confusing thing is.... i'm not sure if i don't.

long absence

i suppose it's been a while.

i've had an ebb and flow of creative energy lately... more ebb than flow... mainly i just haven't felt like writing. i've been using my time doing other things after i get home from work... mostly listening to music and cooking, i suppose. i've lately achieved a sort of locally esteemed status as one-who-cooks-really-good food.

actually, i am proud to say that in the last month or so, i've managed to create a sort of informal salon environment. i framed a bunch of art and hung it on the walls... a few photos of my own, a few paintings and prints from friends, and a couple of prints by jordan crane. ('below the dark water,' 'light for dark,' and 'alone with the world')

then i started mixing drinks... informally at first. white russians, bloody mary's (for those saturday mornings), screwdrivers, and some delicious concoctions involving vodka, OJ, and mango juice. strangely enough, people started to gather. we would hang out. we would watch movies. we would shoot the shit.

and then eventually, the hunger would kick in and out would come the banana pancakes, and the stir fry, and the steaks, and the pizza, and the late-night spaghetti, and the breakfast burritos.

rinse lather repeat.

as time passed, my repertoire grew into a veritable menu.

however, by saying that i have become renown for my cooking ability, i fail to put the situation in the proper perspective... for there are not a whole lot of people who actually cook food in this building... mostly people heat things to a palatable temperature. the fact that i have a shelf full of spices, the fact that i have tomato paste and yeast in my refrigerator door, and the fact that i cut an avocado in its peel are about as much qualification as one needs to differentiate one's self as a 'cook.'

so what else have i been doin?

well, take last weekend for example: friday was a evening of festivities, starting around 7 and ending around 1am. there was much drunken buffoonery and social imbibing.

the next morning was a social breakfast... which meant that i opened my door, started cooking, and people walked in and ate. i made breakfast burritos with onions, asparagus, peppers, eggs, sundried tomatoes, black beans, extra-sharp cheddar, and avocados...

i wish i had taken a picture, but alas the only memory is in the lining of my stomach... they were pretty sexy burritos, if one can freely use such an adjective in that context.

afterwards we all put our walking shoes on and set out for a waterfall about an hours drive to the south. the only map that we have showed the waterfall on the southern side of an east-west penninsula... the coastal road seemed to pass a few miles to the south of the falls so we decided to make our hike from the south...

once we started our hike we discovered two things:

1) koreans do not believe in switchbacks... the trails go STRAIGHT UP the mountain.
2) the waterfall is most easily accessed from the north... because there is a large mountain just to the south of the falls.

we made the first discovery rather quickly, but the second discovery was much more heartbreaking... we had barely made it up the 1200' altitude gain in 1.2km... the last thing we wanted to do was descend ANY AMOUNT AT ALL to get to the falls if it meant we would have to climb up again to get back to our car... it was quite a dilemma for a few minutes... we stood at the top of the peak looking down the path that curved over the edge and out of sight... no one wanted to say, 'let's go back' because we were already invested... no one wanted to say 'onward' because we had no idea how far down we would have to descend to the falls... finally we figured we had come this far already... and down we went.

the falls themselves were... well... pretty nice. the walk itself was beautiful... the last of the cherry blossoms are still clinging to the branches in the valley above the falls. it would have been nice to jump into the pool at the bottom, but apparently there are some fairly significant health related reasons not to.... so we didn't.

this is Colt as we emerged from the far side of the peak and got our first glimpse of the valley where our car was parked.

there was much rejoicing.

sunday is for SNDC, which is sunday night dinner club... this week, i cooked... usually we switch off, or it is potluck style... but this week i just cranked out four pizzas and a bunch of focaccia bread. someone else made a wicked sangria and yet another mustered a fierce salad.

good eats all around.
c'est la vie

creation

i am at a loss. i’m not sure where my creative juices have flown off to recently. possibly into my work... but it is more likely that they have simply evaporated into thin air, like sweat.

if i could watch the process very closely through a microscope, i would be able to see the crystals left behind on my skin as the small beads of creativity precipitate through the skin and glitter upon the surface before they shimmer away into the air.

if i licked my skin, it would taste like an idea, and flow across my tongue with energy and focus. the nerve endings below the capillaries would transcribe the message with their chemical binary charges and send it on the first train to my brain, which would reverberate the signal among the lesser avenues and boulevards to the low rent district where the artist nerves dwell.

and there would be a commotion. there would be a buzz of excitement as lights came on and voices assembled. one by one, a consensus would be reached about a direction and a message would be built to travel down to the arm and hand and fingers.

it would be a sort of symphony. there would be pages of dictation. there would be volumes of carefully orchestrated patterns of contractions and relaxions that would allow each muscle fibre to follow the plan... each fiber, each tendon, would be standing by, eager to sightread the directions at first opportunity... instruments tuned... synapses bristling.

and then it would happen... the first instructions would arrive... the dance would begin, with every instrument carefully measuring every motion, giving feedback to the composers up top with every fraction of resistance and friction.

and so it would go for as long as it needed to... those low rent tenants up top would organize and speak their mind, for all the world to hear.

wheels and pledges

i've been looking for a car for two months, and i finally got one on friday.

finally.

it is a piece of crap, rusted through to the core, to the point that the body and frame are more likely rusted together than bolted together... but it has style... possibly even a bit of soul.

it has been neglected at least for the last six years that it has been in korea. it has been abused. it has been taken for granted. in a way, that makes me love it all the more. originally i had plans to bring it back to life, to put some time and money into it, and to fulfill it's destiny as a great automobile.

but i think now that might be too large a task for me. i think there are many horse trainers who have hoped beyond hope to nurse a horse back from a terrible break into the winner's circle, and few, if any, have succeeded.

actually, i'm not even sure if it will make it through the year. but even so, i will not abandon it. i will not neglect it further. i will not drive it into the dirt until it crumbles. i will attempt to give it back some of it's dignity. i will attempt to let it wear, once again, with pride... it's name:

JEEP

necessary pause

sometimes you need a break.
sometimes you need someone to pat you on the back and say:
"well done... good job"

and sometimes you just need to take a moment and hold the walls up

sometimes you can just feel the rhythm.
sometimes you can be dancing and it feels like you are moving at a different pace than anyone else in the world.
you feel time crawling across your being, and you like it





sometimes you have to give props.
sometimes you feel it in your chest.
sometimes, on the dance floor, you have to flex your muscles





sometimes you have to show your friends that you feel the same way





and sometimes, you have to count to eight




twas a good evening tonight

wash

i think i need a new shampoo.

first of all. i think they could have could have come up with a better name for something you use to wash your hair... sham poo

in layman's terms: something that is purported to be poo, but is not.

i would argue that this is not a good name. likely that it was invented by the same guy that thought the Chevy Nova had a good enough name to market in latin america... never realizing that 'No va' means... does no go. i'm not even sure what is worse: the fact that it is purported to be poo in the first place? or that it is falsely advertised as poo, when it isnt?

i'm losing you here. i can tell.

but i digress... back to my sham poo and why i need to switch brands: i'm dissatisfied with the product. i believe that it is defective, because it doesn't seem to work.

why? because i see the commercials. i know what it is supposed to look like when you wash your hair. you're supposed to have a huge smile on your face. you're supposed to be standing underneath a showerhead that most definitely is not limited to 2.5 gallons per minute, and you are supposed to lather your head into a rich crown of bubbles as your eyes close, and the water decelerates to slow motion as it effortlessly rinses every remnant of the poo away. it's not supposed to get in your eyes... and you should never have to lather, rinse, and repeat. i mean, have you seen the size of the lather on TV? that should be good enough the first time around.

although, i'd have to say, if taking a shower was really that much fun... i would probably lather all day long.

but it isn't... and i don't... it has to be faulty sham poo.

checkers

the album of the day is The Digital Chronicles by Trentemoller.

it's what is going through my ears as i write this... not a bad little mesh of inner head sounds to rattle around. i came across it today in my meanderings and i thought i'd check it out. it is kind of an electronic version of Japancakes... sort of... but not really... ok, they don't resemble each other at all.

and for something completely unrelated, there is www.themoth.org

it is a gathering place of sorts, probably more correctly referred to as a venue, for storytelling. normal people with their stories... of the varieties made famous by campfires, and salons. you can check out the website as easily as i can explain it. there is an option to listen to a cross-section of them, and i would recommend it, assuming you have a few minutes and assuming you enjoy that kind of thing. perhaps you don't.

it is a cleaning day today. i've lived in a state of clutter for too long in this place, and since a low drag life was my resolution, i decided i had lived with drag for quite long enough.

i put away laundry. i cleaned dishes. i went though mail and filed papers. i went back over my taxes to make sure i didn't forget anything. i cleaned off my desk and actually threw things away instead of just shoving them into a drawer. i feel like i squeezed a whole can of shaving cream into my hands, rubbed it over my entire apartment, and shaved it smooth with a razor.

i even went back once more and went against the grain, lightly, and rubbed it over with my fingertips to see if i had missed any spots.

then there was the steaming hot washcloth to pull everything out and wash it all away.

my space feels clean again; soft and comfortable.

so my apartment gets a little stubbly from time to time... it happens. it is the breathing in and out of my space. it is the yin and the yang. it is the ebb and the flow. nevertheless, it is probably no surprise that i absolutely loved the bar where we ended up last night.

for one, it was down a dark alley:

EVERY good bar belongs on a dark alley, away from the hustle and bustle, and known only to the unassumingly hip.

second of all, it was full of stacks of old CDs... mixes and albums, both store-bought and burned. it seemed like a forgotten cemetary of mix tapes, left over from middle school crushes... once lost behind the couch or discarded, they slowly began the endless march around the world towards this bar... DeepIn. one by one they have arrived over the course of decades.

one might wonder what it is that calls to me in that place. it is simply my favorite kind of bar: small, dark, lots of wood, and filled with the handmarks of patrons past. the bar itself wasn't polished to a glossy sheen, it had the matte worn grain of wood that has held up ten thousand pints, hundreds of games of cribbage, and the occasional game of solitaire.

soft conversations were going on at each table and people took their time. there was no raging dance party. there were no waitresses on roller skates. there was no meat market.

there were people leaning into each other, with a beer in one hand, and a story in the other... like moths lean into the flame.

green door

apparently i haven’t been much of a writer lately.

so what have i been up to, you might ask? good question. both lots and little.

i am reminded of family dinners long past... the seven or eight of us gathered around the dinner table... dad had just come home from a trip... all he wanted was to catch up on the current events of the household. there was the inevitable question. it wasn’t a difficult one, and yet for some reason, i could never really think of a suitable answer:

‘so patrick, what did you learn in school today?’

‘nothin’

this was of course a source of endless frustration for my father, because ‘nothing’ was not an acceptable answer. it did not even come close to the intent of the question. of course, at the time, my mind was truly obscured with the fog of puberty, and my world extended approximately to my fingertips in all directions around me. i did not realize that a more suitable answer would have been:

‘you know dad? at my current phase of development, i am mostly overwhelmed by the unstable social foundations inherent in the hormone-saturated environment of my high school, and that tends to take the majority of my daily focus. instead of daily homework and class discussions, my concentration floats more around whether or not it is too revealing to sit next to a certain girl that i may (or may not) be interested in. then, if i do decide to sit next to her, i have to try to use my highest order of problem solving skills and non-verbal cue recognition to determine whether or not she thinks i’m making an ass of myself and whether i should be more overt or more covert in my emotionally charged yet highly directionless undertaking. so while you are most likely referring to what stage of modern world history my test is on tomorrow, realistically, i have no clue... because i gave her a note after lunch and have yet to receive a reply.’

instead... i would say:

‘nothin’

and focus dilligently on my mashed potatoes and chicken breast... hoping the question would go away or be passed on to the next person down the line. it never worked.

but WHY? you might ask... WHY did you just sit there when all of that was running through your head?

like i said; fog and friction. those were confusing days, and besides, those battlefield decisions were such an everyday fact of life that they seemed trivial... both unworthy of discussion and embarrasingly raw at the same time.

which brings us to today. what have i been up to?

nothin