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.