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.