Wednesday, October 30

Emerson Purring

I'm at a table in a crowded shopping center, chewing on an ice cube from the drink that came along with my lunch. Something about the way the sunlight flows in through the windows; something about this warm feeling in my belly...

     My thoughts drift to you

It's after midnight and everyone is long asleep. The moon hangs high over the front yard, leaving just enough light for us to see each other in.

The little moments. The unspoken words. The sounds. Your eyes.

These are the things I miss…

     Do you see that kitten chasing so prettily her own tail?

It's not that you're gone. There was never any way it could have lasted forever. Even in all of my overplayed devotions, that much was always clear. Even if I didn’t want it to be true, I always knew there would come a day when you would be nothing more than a memory.

It’s the suddenness of your exit that left me with this wanting.

     If you could look with her eyes, you might see her surrounded

Was it only chance that brought our paths together?
Could it be the same chance that took you away?

     with hundreds of figures performing complex dramas,
     with tragic and comic issues, long conversations,
     many characters, many ups and downs of fate...


Everyone says move on. Everyone hints that there needs to be someone new. In the end, acceptance will be a matter of seasons passing rather than any decision on my part. But at night alone I find myself wondering where you are. Where you went.

     Wondering if you miss me, too.


     
-- and meantime it is only puss and her tail...



Tuesday, October 29

The Michael Ho Response

I saw your band on television the other night. Perhaps it's just my perception of how the world's ears have turned, but I really didn't expect to see you on one of my six channels, even if it was pushing two in the morning.

The clothes, the tattoos, your fans trying waay too hard... Sometimes when I'm looking at it from a distance, It's not hard to see why people used to scoff at me when I tried to wear it on my sleeves.

They call you progressive, they stamp you with ridiculous umlauted buzzwords no one could possibly live up to. The interviews ask you about piercings, hairstyles, and body art... Nothings changed. With all the major label punks and garage rockers pouring their authentic integrity all over everything, who has time for any of this silliness anymore?

With my television occasionally receiving music video footage these days, I've found myself re-acquainted with all the posturing and self-aggrandizement that comes with the act of trying to look like you're a rock band. Music will always be cool, but the industry itself still desperatley needs an enema.

The worst thing that can ever happen to anyone who's admired from afar is to take themselves too seriously. From game show hosts to presidents pretending to be warlords, pretension is the proverbial dog crap under your shoe. Maybe we don't always see it right off, but the smell is impossible to mistake…

Flashback to the early 80's - the upswing of competitive surfing as a lifestyle and a sport. There was this major contest being held in Hawaii, and they were interviewing the all the competitors beforehand.

The 1st guy says: "Winning here is the key to the championship"
The 2nd guy says: "It's gonna be a total revolution out there. Full-on shred."

And then they turn to local legend Michael Ho, and he says,

     "Whatever man, I'm just looking to catch a few barrels."

From the first note to the last unintelligible lyric, I was hooked. I think it's the energy that draws me in. The intensity that gets into performers sometimes when they're using an opening song to ramp themselves up for the rest of the show.

I catch myself tapping my foot, bobbing my head, getting into it… God, it looks like fun up there.

The TV host walks up and asks a couple of questions, something about your tour, something about the new album. And then he says, "How important is it to you to get your unique new sound out to the people?"

    The guitarist scoffs and says, "We're just another metal band, man... No big deal."


Saturday, October 26

Social Graces Lesson #1 - How to get Ketchup

You like ketchup. You think it's good. You can't help it everyone else thinks it's gauche to put tomato sauce on a steak... that's just the way you're wired. However, there are certain situations (romantic dinners, important business lunches, morning after breakfasts) where it may be advisable to avoid the shame that comes from people looking at you like you're a complete hillbilly just for requesting a bottle out loud.

And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about -- You know you've been there, watching someone lining up a bottle of Heinz over their plate in the morning, and the only thought that keeps repeating in your head over and over is:

     "Ketchup on eggs? What the hell's wrong with you?!"

It's a little known fact that the word "catsup" was invented solely for the purpose of avoiding these awkward social moments. This clever verbal subterfuge has enabled tomato sauce nut jobs just like you to secure their favorite condiment without fear of social persecution or reprisal. Over the years though, many of us have caught on to this little trick.

So, just HOW are you supposed go about getting ketchup in an upscale restaurant without drawing attention to yourself?



Friday, October 25

Sessy Beast

I spent a good part of my morning designing a web site for a local lingerie shop. Custom negligĂ©es, fantasy costumes, riding crops, leather underwear – pretty much the standard list.

Things were moving along smoothly until I came across a little note that read:

     "Make sure to mention that we carry sizes ranging from small to 6X"


6X?



Let me see if I can put that into perspective for you:



We're talkin' extra - extra - extra - extra - extra - extra - large




Wednesday, October 23

You Sprained What?

Do you think porn stars ever call in sick?

I mean sure, they're human - they get colds and stomach viruses just like the rest of us, but I'm wondering if there is ever a time when one of these dudes wakes up in the morning and thinks to himself,

     "Aww man, is it Monday already?"

There are mornings in my life when the snooze alarm goes off thirty times in a row, and I simply cannot find the will at all to drag myself out of bed just so I can go to work. Days where all you can feel is the warmth of the sun pouring in through the windows, times when it seems like the bedcovers were custom made to make you feel comfortable and sleepy.

When you live on a time clock, when every moment of your day is spent chasing someone else's rabbits -- sometimes 2 days away just doesn't feel like enough. Especially when the weekend can be just as busy running errands and trying to cover all the bases you couldn't get to during the week.

Sometimes when I think about all the hours of monotonous drudgery and office politics waiting for me, it's hard not to give at least some consideration to coming down with one of those 24-hour fevers that seem come along whenever the surf is up..

Maybe it's because I don't know what their regular days are like. Perhaps there's a ton of mindless porn star paperwork that has to be handled each morning; some sort of menial prepwork that I'm simply not aware of; something that makes the entire workday an utter chore to be a part of...

I mean, whatever else it might appear to be -- it's still a job.

...and if porn stars actually do play hooky once in a while, how do their coworkers deal with it? I mean, they don't have temps for that, do they?

    Now there's an unpleasant thought...


Tuesday, October 22

Actually Spoken During the Course of My Day

    "Which Russian lesbians are you referring to?"


Friday, October 18

The Man From Mars Stopped Eating Cars and Now He Only Eats Guitars

About a week ago we had a power outage that knocked out the preset channels on our television. So for the first time in quite a while I pushed the button and re-scanned for area networks. After a moment of watching numbers scroll on our screen, the picture returned. To our surprise, there were a bunch of new channels available for us to watch.

While the majority of what we found was religious programming and fuzzy-signaled network broadcasts from outside our area, somewhere in the upper reaches something really odd showed up.

        M2.

This was particularly bizarre because I don't have cable.

But there it was, washed in static and interference. Late at night it would come in clearly, revealing some sort of hip-hop marathon deal complete with documentaries, old school videos, and those always hypnotizing MTV commercials.

Understand something. I haven't had cable since I moved to this city, so it's literally been like three or four years since I've had the chance to see a music video.

Can you say instant addiction?

Eryka Badu, Tribe Called Quest, Jurrasic 5, Public Enemy... man I was in heaven. But as the days went by, the signal started to get weaker and weaker. It's not like I'm getting this legally, so there's no way I can really complain, but night after night I found myself going nuts as the screen and the sound slowly snowed over.

It's gotten to the point now where I'm right up on the TV, like I'm trying to catch a glimpse of a scrambled porn channel or something. The other night Kim asked me what I was doing, but before I could answer, the screen flickered and I said,

        "Honey, look -- it's LL's hat!"


Friday, October 4

Kimball

While my neighbors seem pretty normal, the part of town I live in isn't really the best. It's pretty common to hear helicopters sweeping overhead during the night, or see red and blue lights through the windows. Part of me wishes I could afford something a little better, but hey - welcome to America 2002, right?

Anyways, last night the boy and I are hanging out flipping channels and goofing off in the living room when suddenly there’s a commotion outside the window. When I pulled back the drapes to get a look there were four police cars lined up, blocking the street.

Out in front of the cars, five cops walked in a line, sweeping their flashlights side to side. Even though we get a lot of cop cars around here, this was certainly something new, and it was hard not to feel at least a little alarmed.

They slowly made their way past my front yard, and moved on down the street.

Then, there was a sound outside like someone in a hurry had tripped over the cat's food bowl on the front porch. Maybe it was seeing the Gestapo line, or just the unexpectedness of it all, but I found myself sitting straight up and turning the television down.

A little more than hesitantly this time, I pulled the drape back,

        And found myself staring directly into the eyes of a raccoon

We sat there for a moment in silence, before a noise caused him to back away from the glass. Before he scurried off, he gave me another careful look. And even though I know it's impossible, I could have sworn that I heard a little voice saying,

        "I didn't kill my wife!"


Thursday, October 3

Strawberry Milkbucket

When did "medium" become "fucking huge?"

It's so innocuous, sitting there by a drive thru speaker, thinking you're doing the world a favor by not ordering anything super-mongo-sized. But then when you pull around to get your little snack, there isn't really a person behind the window at all, but this gigantic plastic cup slowly inching towards you with two small hands gripping on the sides for dear life.

    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say to the lady, “32 ounces is a medium?
    She looks back and says, “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want the large instead?”


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