i posted 43 blogpost (1 more than in 2010) in 2011

2011 is a good year. Define good. I am able to hold a gainful employment and pay a lot of debt. My gross income is sorrowfuly deceitful yet there is enough left for comfortable living, comfortable means modest and i can't complain about it. Work takes a big part of my time, 40 hours a week of staring numbers at the computer but again i am not going to bitch about it. By the time i get off the office, my eyes are wired that all i want to do is stare at the sky. I like aquamarine blue. I dislike orangy fire. I have books at the bottom of my laundry basket that are waiting to be read. I intend to read them in my sleep but for now i will be contented to memorize their titles and create sub-plots at the back of my mind. It may come in handy during the rainy days, especially with the economic climate that we have. I have written some poems and stories and some found homes. Thank you editors for liking them. Thank you Muses for kicking me in my life of stupor and seducing me drunkenly with words. I will continue to write. My first resolution is to seriously fucking write on 2012.

did you hear the baby crying during the singing of silent night?

i have always been christmas-solicited all my life, there must be an iota of philantrophy in me that attracts solicitors and peddlers and salesman and all kinds of shrewdness, is it my fake-i-have-money-to-burn-smile or my dumb-becoming-awestruck-face that they seek me like a scud target? an old lady at the bus station singled me out and flaunted her business ideas while i was with two travelling companions, i was also nicey nicey looking that a retired volunteer lady sales-talked me to buy "an almost new book for a gift" at the library bookstore, i can go on but i will be embarassing myself more so....

people i know asked me if i am ready for Christmas and i always halfheartedly answered "i think so", i contemplated this question because the rituals of Christmas are somewhat getting tiresome, all these material appearances of having something to open, to give, to take... but not enough spiritual substance to coat our own intent, i kind-a dwelled on this blight until i realized i am being a cynic and a critic, i am also being grouchy whereas i should be child-like and bright-eyed on this time of year, it's like this awakening that i am thankful that i celebrated 2011 Christmas with a warm meaning around the dinner table with family and friends.

if you don't hear from me, i have run away with your gift and money

i ordered tuna melt on our Christmas lunch, i like it, it's like eating soil on a rye bread, it was a fun lunch and a weird one too, they raffled names for a big t.v. and for a while i was the frontrunner, i got an emotional kick out of it but soon realized it was all the luck of the draw, kind-a glad i did not win it

i won something but i have to bite my tongue so the words would spill out, i have one - two poems on the xmas issue of Yellow Mama, i also have something at Orion headless, this one i have to bite my tongue a little harder so i can taste my own blood because it is about a celebratory loss, aren't you glad sometimes that you get to know someone really well before they vanish out of your hair?

hohoho Christmas and New Year is around the corner, for some it is the season to be stressed but i understand if you don't, keep it up because we need merry thinkers and forgiving souls on the holidays.

"M" is for motivation

nobody reads my blog but i will continue to interact because i like talking to myself, i talk to some people at a party earlier but i have nothing to report back because we mostly talk about work advancement which is a non-erectile topic for the brain

i think the worst is over for my cough, i have decongested, i just have to irrigate what is left...

the year end always carry loads of unfinished business and additional worry loads of to-do-list for the new year, at the bat i wish to have a stress-less perspective and be more positivistic with my outlook, i am currently under the impression that hard work will lead to success but i often forget to enjoy every ounce of that labor - very slavish mentality

how does motivational partner sounds? if you feel like we are on the same shoe then shoot me something, maybe we can walk on the same dirt road, only it wouldn't be as lonely.

writing makes me drowsy

i am semi high on medicated mist, my vaporizer is steaming as i type, inhale inhale the power of vicks, my clogged sinus needs it, earlier i ground and gurgled me some hot salt water on my throat, it felt dry but the moist scent of vicks relieved me like im in a cloud forest in guatemala

too high for a fog but too low for a cloud, that's me lately, my second bad cough of the season, first the rain and now the santa ana's, my resistance is rebelling, bought me loads of fresh produce and vitamin c and cold medicine, tell that to John Keats

wish i can see more clearly, and wake up on a hammock with a book, you yes you can you please recite Bright Star to me and then let's get married, i need tropical breeze, not the insipid passing of winter, you and i will sing amazing grace together.

it's all quiet in the forefront

if you haven't already liked PBS Masterpiece, then you should put a thumb tack on your brain and yellow post note it because saturday morning is perfect for a mystery or a contemporary movie

i tell you i can't break the habit of waking up early even on weekends. i need to tell the supervising elf in the assembly line to produce more sedative in the sleep factory because it is what the elf doctor has ordered

there is a black feral cat in our backyard. i've been waking up and finding it outside my french glass door. it has mountain dew eyes and snowy paws. before this, i only see its shadow in the high wall and hear its sauntering in the rooftop

i wrote something lately, wrote it longhand in one sitting and edited it on another sitting, its amazing how mozartzian passion is sometimes, you can read it here

this is my first post in november, if i don't post before november 30 11:59 p.m., then i want to greet you all a merry thanksgiving, eat a turkey for me, i read somewhere turkey meat is sleep-inducing - jay

my brain is impotent - sorry

hi, did i tell you i went to Yosemite?, no i did not, why, because sometimes i'm a downer for climaxy stuff, no explanation needed but you probably know what i mean, i feel like writing now because of two things i did not see (but wished i saw), 1) a f*cking bear & 2) a falling star, it's not like i did not try, you see them when you see them - right?

i have a thing for "f" today - sorry.

and you probably agreed

and you probably agreed nostalgia bites, i said so and i probably invented that because i still smelled wildly of forest fires that wafted like incense and of pinecones that crackled in the campfire

but i burned myself before i became an ember at dawn, the romance in the ashes i clawed (and hated) because there is always a song about longing and never about love.

feverish, mutating and hating my bed

i have droopy eyes, it is halfway falling with a Dali toothpick-prong stand, there is surrealism behind this fold, i see glorious mountains with pine varieties at different elevations, in the morning the air oxidize my respiration, in the evening there are small fires that bombard me like sacrificial incense...

i am walking, walking and walking, with (a ghost of) you, with (a ghost of) myself, they are all the same...

the meadows are humbling, the rocks, the rivers and the grass each have a song, they seem to tell me something but i am often muddleheaded, maybe they want me to be lost longer, to be washed by too much light that i don't see the spot where beauty is the difference, i will find it, you will find it, in the meantime...

happy friday, i am here but i am not here

knock, knock, open your door, i want to sleep in your house, i am tired, i have sunken eyes and bloated eyebags, can you tell there are no pearls in my cornea?, save me a couch, a cot, a hammock or a cozy corner, i will lie like a dog and sleep like a bear, you don't have to offer your bed but if you want to feel me i will let you, you can trace the dry canyons of my wearisomeness, there is an oasis out there, maybe you can pump it or perform a rain dance - but it is there.

knock, knock, i like your garden too, do you have an apple tree in your backyard?, is it teeming with apples? i would like to sleep under an apple tree and not think of gravity, i wonder if worms feel safe inside an apple, maybe they are, i want to be that worm, please do not wake me.

when sweats and bullets have no fruition

i might not write for a while, nothing really worth writing, whoever says if you want to be a writer - write - is my sleeping muse, i had a rejection lately, he/she interpreted my piece as a sleeper, worse an underdone soap opera, i am subjecting his/her interpretation into my own interpretation and leaving my pride outside the editorial box, thank you i really needed that, i am floating on my sub par excellence, where is this frustration coming from?, i have no creative outlet lately, i stop painting because the class had ended and i am too lazy to pick up the paintbrush, i am a very restrained individual, have you ever been with one?, how did you put him/her back in the saddle of liberation?, shit i might post this dilemma on spy omegle and pitifully watch strangers disect my ass as an analytical subject, look, look, let's embrace this one, tlc, tlc, tlc, i hope i hope they approve my time off request because because i am going to the mountain, and i am going to crush this mountain of sorrow off my back, sigh, there, i am ok now, forget what i just said, erase - see you around.

I want your job

There is a battle going on beyond the trees. If you look closer, you may mistake the artillery smoke for a morning fog; if you can't distinguish the smoke then look at it as an optical illusion - i leave you up to it. There are bodies too, scenes of carnage, and not far behind is a makeshift tent where they do the amputation. I stumble upon this Civil War reenactment while walking at Huntington Beach Central Park. This is on a Labor Day weekend. It seems like people have something better to do than worry about the current job climate. Life goes on (indiscriminately) even on resilient times. We are 9.1% unemployment nationwide. Others have it bad, i know, and i'm not even going to attempt to complain about my own. It must be luck and persistence that i have one right now and i'm just thankful about it. Believe me i know how it feels to let and not to let my head down. Sometimes we don't really know what the deal is with life and that is worth knowing.

You will find me at a see-through door

If you read my blog, you probably had an earful of complaints about my sweltering spa-like room. It had given me headaches, sweats and countless twisting and turning of sleeplessness. Read no more for my room is having an upgrade: an aircondition, a ceiling insulation, and the best part - a sliding door that opens to the patio. I love this part of the backyard because this is where i sometimes read and paint. With the installation of the sliding French door, i will also have more light in my room. I should mention that this swank all comes with a price, not good on my pocket but i figure i can stretch my budget for this quiet and laidback space. I worked out a deal with the landlord and told him i will make a business plan and do some ad placement for his construction and remodelling business and he seemed ok with it, even telling me that he will give me a commission for every job that pushes through. Win-win, if this pans out, if not, then i sure have given it a try.

please (do not) kill me (coz) i'm boring

Clinical signs that i had a boring week manifested when 1) i was three seconds late to react on a friend's joke, boo, not to mention that i laughed at my own joke 83% of the time. Double boo. 2) i wrote a shitty story about a simpleminded guy who gave his blind date a rice cooker for a birthday present and submitted it anyway. WTF. 3) i googled my name out of curious vanity (yes, that is like an Oscar for self-gratification) and was surprised (dumb-faced surprised) that i have an old poem lying about on of all places a "funny" website.

I have the last (insert infectious here) laugh, at least.

I will eat marbles for old time sake

There is a chakra point in my stomach that wants to be iradiated and opened by the power of kundalini. The stock market is not really helping with its up and down swing. The acid spreads like rough waves and i am churning because my capacity to tolerate the market volatility makes me want to vomit like the time i ate a heavy breakfast only to throw them up on a portalet aboard a catamaran while on a whalewatching tour.

I used to have a vicious stomach, you know. I had ridden all the gyrating roller coasters at Magic Mountain, but some months back, i had to hold my head so i would not spin and clasp my lip so i would not spit the projectile while on a big (ferris) hanging wheel on California Adventure. I was not blaming the stock market then but what the hell you can blame anything or anyone when you're grumpy.

Some pressure is so insecuring or maybe i am just getting old. Sorry if you're reading a sucky post.

Peace.

1:4

I don't know about you but i feel like July is a long month. It's like i've been out too much and yet i've been cooped in too long. This mirage is strange because i don't really remember how the doldrums of July blew by extremely fast.

I submitted four fictions this month and only one slipped in. The lucky story was selected as an editor's pick and that made my heart big. The other three were submitted to low-acceptance market, a lesson that only mean i still have a LOT to learn about writing. There are blogs out there that talk about rejections, a topic i can emphatize as interesting and humbling, for what is the value of eloquence if i cannot communicate clearly and subjectively to an editor. I have work to do and i know it.

I anticipate some free hours of brainstorming now that i am done with my painting class. I never realize how a bulk of conceptualization is needed to produce a viable artpiece. It is actually similar to the discipline of writing, sometimes i will start with a phrase then build paragraphs until i have a coherent story. I like writing, maybe because it comes first before painting, and although it may sound propagandistic, i can only validate my development if my pieces will be out there, and that someone publish it not only because it is likeable but most importantly it is relatable.

Note to self: time to get serious Jay.

Odds and ends and coalescence

Sometime ago, i studied for a job exam, fevered determination and all, then blew it, as in i haven't heard a phone call so i could only assume that yes i really blew it. I might have jumped too quickly, might have forced my will to believe i am ready, but such is the smoky mettle of the will. In the end, there are only half glass knowledge and half full will.

I haven't kept up with my Summer reading because i've been doing a lot of art exploration on my free times. I have the luxury though to listen twice to John Fowles' French Lieutenant Woman, and man, oh man, i am overly substantiated by the savagery of words and erotic evocation (sigh).

We are doing collage and mixed media on our art class now and i think this is where i can get loose. It is one quart realistic and a gallon free-formed. I like how i drown my imagination and relax idly with no expectation nor standard of what a good or bad art is. Relative, yes, selfish, definitely, pleasing, of course.

Wazzup Homies

I haven't visited this joint for a while. I've been busy and lazy lately. The heat is keeping me indoors most of the time where i play with the dogs, eat ice cream and watch women's soccer. I also continue to take the painting/mixed media class and can now attest that it is like attending a therapy session. I still feel my creative output is crap but i don't really care because i always feel good after i expel the process out. When i'm bold enough to strip, maybe i will show some of my arty stuff, but not yet, not yet. In the meantime this was published last month and i really really like the above picture taken at the California Science Center. Hope everybody is having a fun Summer.

The Thousand Lives of Summer

There is still a touch of Spring in the wind, a light chill in the morning, a temperate breeze in the afternoon, and like my mood, i am a little behind with the intrusion of Summer.

Days are getting longer. I am starting to feel the pinch of weariness at the end of the day. Sometimes i am too aware that time is dragging, the hours between five to ten in the evening are the longest; i will twist and turn and sit still again, with an idea, a shadow, an object, to watch, to hold, to waste... and before i know it i am a dog ready to crash in bed, thinking, recalling, plotting, all the disapointments, the what-ifs, the should-have-beens... the thousand lives of Summer.

Then i will regress, swimming on a brown river, peeing on the campfire, drinking absinthe under the stars, endless water, alluvial memories, the old lives of Summer, of youth, of youth, of youth, i am ready to be young again, mercy.

Therefore i doubt, hence i am

There will be no vacation for me this summer. Not the vacation that will take me away out of some far away town. The reasons are obvious: money and time. It sounds like a blank ad for a billboard but it is true because i have nothing to show up for it. I will be in the LA and Orange county vicinities and perhaps outskirting in Vegas. If you will be skedaddling in these towns, let me know, perhaps we can arrange something.

I have registered on a watercolor class. I never really have a formal training on painting before but i thought i will give it try, after all it's all about self expression. This is a short none-credit class, which means i can't get a "D" for not putting the effort.

On a somewhat similar note, i often wonder if i need a formal training on my writing. On one hand, i feel the classroom setting will improve all of the technicalities that i will never learn on my own and i will have a critical support group of teachers and peers; and on the other, i feel like i am also growing through an independent and self-sustaining nurturing of my craft. This is a seesaw opinon that i have never thought seriously about, but it's always at the back of my mind like a hanging nail.

Not Super Enough

I've been youtubing a lot of Superfriends cartoons lately. I remember liking them when i was very young and overly imaginative. I like Green Lantern and Aquaman. My heroes don green costumes, something which may have coated my mind at an early age. I am not Superman nor Batman; my childhood friends took them already. I may have knew it then that i will be orchestrating, contributing and deeding in the sidelines for most of the time in my adult life.

I was with my family at M Casino and Resort in Las Vegas on Saturday Memorial weekend. As usual, we feasted on their buffet, my vote for poor man's best gastronomic experience in the desert town. They have unlimited wine and beer refills. My fourth wine was the killer. Tipsy and distracted by dazzling lights and exploding sounds, for a while i forgot the way out to the parking lot.

While in LV, i also did some book hunting on the libraries. This will be my Summer reading, if i ever get to it.

1. The Train Now Departing by Martha Grimes
2. The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff
3. All Aunt Hagar's Children Stories by Edward P. Jones
4. The View fro Castle Rock by Alice Munro
5. Who will run the frog hospital? by Lorrie Moore
6. The Dovble Tongve by William Golding
7. Sappho's Leap by Erica Jong

Happy Summer Everybody!

Congratulations You Won!

1) is a story i wrote last year

2) is a deathly rattle my computer had bitten

My laptop is diseased and the good people in the repair shop are trying to resuscitate it from a viral infection, a squiggly enemy that penetrated my virus shield.

Coincidentally, i was sore and feverish after getting (renewing) a tetanus, diphtheria and pertussis vaccine. My left upper limb felt like it was in a cast and my body was reacting with involuntary chills. 1 out of 4 adults are prone to these risks and i am the lucky one.

Strange how these night sweats and no internet are giving me a rarefied head. I know this is just temporary but i am really liking this physioelectronic detachment. I like not knowing what's going on with my friends, i like not knowing how my retirement is performing, i like not knowing i have an e-mail waiting to be read....I like knowing i've been on this situation before and i am liking it again.

I like knowing i am not busy nor bored with my life.

Anyway, that's my week and here are three recent poem publications of mine.

1
2
3

4. There is no number four. I just want to say thanks for reading, whoever you are.

I like dome churches

I like dome churches. They don't build a lot these days. People like tall and spiraling structures as tall as the heavens, a matter of architectural taste, i guess.

I visited St. Sophia in Los Angeles this weekend. A Greek Orthodox Church, some say is patterned after the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Turkey. The interior was magnificent and the Saturday i was there at 2pm was a delight.

I sat in the middle, a phalanx of pews that are all empty.

Dimly lit electric oil lamps, subdued brilliance of stain glass windows, silence is my prayer.

It was like that for 10 minutes then someone from the rear balcony piped an organ recital. I looked at the aisle if there was a wedding procession and if someone (other than Dustin Hoffman on The Graduate) was trying to stop the wedding.

There was no wedding yet, However there were the bride and the bridemaids having a photo op in the front door. The bride was beautiful, as any bride should be. She was smiling for the camera. She was smiling for the winged sunlight that escaped from the clouds.

My Kung-Fu Rant

I work in a high rise spacious office, a neat cubicle overlooking three major freeways. It seems like i have all the air i can have to wiggle and be productive, but lately the air traffic has been ominous. My stomach is turning everytime i sit and roll on my swivel chair. I have been upset by a nebulous incident that happened a few weeks back. An employee of many years was kicked out and from what i gather, the burden of proof did not swing on the management side. My gut is aching for affirmation i feel like i am on the chopping board. I am mentally kicking myself in the head and subjecting my guilt to the expendability of my job security. I want to spray paint the words i am necessary on the canvas of my conscience and wish the bosses can read it - pointblank .

As if i haven't kick myself to worrying yet, i want to get up and also kick the office wall till i bore a hole and fracture my toes so i can breathe.

I don't say it enough, i think, i love you Mom

(Picture taken from Richard Nixon's study table)

Even when people can't speak

your language, they can tell

if you have love in your heart.

(Patricia Ryan Nixon's Epitaph) 1912 - 1993

Graceland

I don't live in New York City. I've been in New York City. If i say New York City again, you'll probably think this post is boring so i will get to my point now. Please tell Paul Simon of New York City that i will carry Graceland in my lifebag if i am ever stuck on an island.

I don't have an AC. I already told you that. For the record, i also told you that my room sizzled on the afternoon. Lately i've been going to the pond after work. There is a bench there for me. I don't have a Swiss knife so i won't carve my name on it. Don't worry. Been catching the breeze and watching Mother Duck with her ducklings. Such grace.

The other day i washed my coffee tumbler at our work kitchen. I removed the rubber ring so i could wash it too. The rubber ring seals the lid from the inside and prevents water from seeping. I thought the rubber ring was minimally functional so i did not replace it. After i drank from my tumbler, the chocolate spilled an island on my dress shirt.

Sundancing at Newport Beach

Sometimes my wants make war with my needs.
I want to go to Park City.
I want to go to Venice.
Hint: both cities are film festival meccas.
As it happens though, there is one on my hood right now so that negates it.

I drove to the Newport Beach Film Festival today. There were people on their Sunday best and people on plain clothes (like me) but no paparazzis snapping pictures of people who look like big shots. I watched a surf film called Castles on the sky because i did not want to wait another hour for the next feature. The movie combined surfing (not really about surfers - for a change), and a documentary touch of National-Geographic-like locations, Iceland, Peru, India..., places i never heard of to have big waves. There was no dialogue, only a trite recitation of a sentence (bummer) about how man is lost and independent at the beginning of each scene. I was not a surfer fan dude but pulled by the induced music and exotic shots of portraits and locales, I sat through it, and even listened to a Q&A with the cinematographer.

I was a fine afternoon and NO, the ocean did not speak to me so there you go.

On another note, i am the star of my own film here.

The Cryptic Message of the Bangle's Walk Like an Egyptian

I am liking my new Nike Air more and more. If i could, i love to walk with it all the time, even if i sleepwalk though i have never been known to be a somnambulist. On the contrary, my workshoes, i have three pairs, are all roughened and sanded at the back edge, thus resulting to uneven gait. This puts more pressure on my knee joints because my heels are angling sideways.

If you see me walk, you will see me dragging my feet like there is a ball and chain strapped on my ankle. If you see me at work, it's ok to stop me, and tell me i need to buy new workshoes: if you see me anywhere, it's ok to tell me to take my calcium so i can prevent a premature medial meniscal tear.

PoP

I like it when movie critics say they are not disappointed. It makes me want to listen like they know they are the experts. It makes me more intrigue even if i am halfhearted.

I watched Hanna last weekend, mind you, to hear the musical score of the Chemical Brothers, but in the course of the film was taken by the beautiful suspense of the story and in the end became a pop culture fan of the heroine. I then realized that my inPoPtuation was a throwback from my love of the young Natalie Portman and the musical overture of Beethoven in Luc Besson 's The Professional.

I like it when movie critics are right. It makes me want to flatter them like they will treat me with bagel and cheese on the coffee shop at the corner.

Scrub your Back Day

hi all, i did not replenish my beer supply this week because i was abstaining from alcohol, it's Holy Week if you're a practicing Catholic, no disrespect to those who are not, and it's Earth Day too, no coincidence here that healing is the underlying theme, i think we could all cull a lesson or two from Gulliver's Travel who after having his fill of wine was pleaded by the tiny Lilliputans to douse the big night fire on the queen's castle and having no resource to the ocean, stuck out his pecker and extinguished the conflagration, and was then charge with desecration of the palace, just saying, anyway i was in the beach yesterday and was listening to the open air sound of the maracas and the drums, the beats were hypnotic and in a strange way had a penitent effect, which would probably explain why i woke up feeling like a meek lamb this morning

ice cream for beginners

I've been eating a lot of ice cream lately. The mercury is kicking and i am avoiding big fires in the process. My room does not have proper insulation and i feel like my hair is going to catch fire if i stay too long inside.

I befriended a strange creature called the Phantom Kangaroo. I would love to offer her an ice cream and a taco for publishing my poem but i wonder if she has a eucalyptus diet like her cousin the koala.

I am thinking about vacation for weeks now. I want to go out of LA for a change but i am so square with time at work. I wish for the day when i will wake up on a stange place with rose petals and bautiful strangers and a hearty breakfast on my bed.

wind vanes

Directions blew me at OCMA last Sunday. It was the opening of Alexander Calder's Form, Balance, Joy. If you're in the Newport Beach area, see it, your imagination will float like the "mobiles" and appreciate airiness even if you're not on mind-altering drugs. Me noticed some of the museum attendants, some of them smile like they have decoded the meaning of weightlessness. My theory is that they are just happy to see people around them otherwise they will just stand on their stations and they will be living artifacts. I suggest you don't poke them because they may be subjective and you may be subjective and that is not a good thing when you are in the art-mode. I will probably visit the museum again, second Sunday is free homo sapiens, and i'll make sure i have enough substance in my brain so i won't look dumb.

infinity on friday

the magical realism begins when i open the door two little dogs will jump on my leg and before i know it they will play hump with each other i will walk to the fridge and crack a can of beer the hiss will be my sigh as i down the snake to its pit then i will open the internet and wallow on emotional detachment perhaps watch porn if i'm really up to it when my eyes get tired i will lie on my bed and feel thirsty as ever i will decide not to fight it and go to sleep.

I heard this!

What is the worst sentence that you can write?

The therapist on the radio said it will set your writing free.

Give me your take.

I am your therapist today.

(insert name here)

A baby shih tzu wheezed by my car on the I-10. It was running on the opposite direction. It had the unmistakable cuddly and anxiety-free smile of a happy canine.

Cars were stalling and i observed the owner had stopped her SUV, got out, and when she saw the dog out of her chasing distance abandoned her pursuit.

I scanned the rear view mirror and spotted (insert name here) was still running...

I woke up with salt in my eyes

I had a lovely walk at the beach yesterday. I saw kites, i heard someone said "this is spiritual", i watched a harvesting of mussels, and i sat a long time to hear the sunset soars.

Sinbad is an elephant killer

As if there is no easy and stupid target, i think i shoot myself more because i have only myself to blame if i fall with a big thud on the ground.

The Ugly Rain

I usually smile to people in my work building. It is a friendly smile. But for some people, it is also a way to hide the words and the voice that i don't want to communicate. I was in the elevator with one when it elicited a response about the weather, "the ugly rain" she said, "yeah i have to" acknowledging i will brave the elements outside. When i stepped out and felt the bright sun in my eyes, i regretted the chance to wash the phoniness in my face.

Mottos we don't understand

Voltaire's last sentence on Candide has been my unofficial theme last week. I think i gave away my book to Goodwill a long time ago so i visited Borders to reread it but it looked like they were out of stock because they were going bankrupt and someone may have snatched the book for $4.99 less and was on page 35 paragraph 2 and seemed to be enjoying it immensely, so i visited the local library and was witfully asked twice by the librarian: "How soon do you need it?". Anyway it goes like: "but we must go and work in the garden" while others have it as "cultivate" the garden. I think i like the second one better. And I also like this film.

How do you want to be buried?

Hi all my birthday is coming. The hours and minutes leading to my birthday are when the butterflies in my stomach are going crazy. I may have to drink a lot of honey and snort a lot of pollen so they will keep still.

I have not planned anything yet. It is not fun rejecting an idea when it is just beginning to blossom. I may have to dig deeper and i may end up doing something that i rejected on the first place.

If you can think of something, please let me know, so i will not feel guilty rejecting an idea other than my own. Seriously, i need your juices on this one.

As i'm writing this now, i am looking at the bulk of laundry that i have to wash and dry this weekend. That is my only plan so far.

Thank you. Oh and i have somethinh up at Negative Suck's March 2011 Issue.

We Have Rains

Here in Los Angeles

Saturday I was stuck with people who brave the rains and watch this:

Sunday sun came out i bought five books

1) Rabbit Run by John Updike
2) Brief Interviews with Hideous Men by David Foster Walalace
3) The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake
4) The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
5) Case Histories by Kate Atkinson

We have more rains coming. I think i am all set.

Shake yo' fffin* love dust off

Shake yo' fffin* love dust off

I will try not to make the same mistake twice

Trouble is there are too many mistakes to make.




Happy New Year Everyone!