Fishy for you Fishy for Me Who Love Da Fish? You Love Da Fish! Who Love Da Ocean? You Love Da Ocean! So Show Your Devotion And Keep It In Motion For All Those Creatures Funky And Squishy Including That Anemone And Tunafishy!

14.2.06 16:52 Permalink / 1 Comment / comment

Cacti I am so tired, my ear hurts from talking on the phone, my ass is sweat from sitting in the drivers seat, and my body is collapsing from a day driving.  It is a masterpiece to drive through the California February day.  Glimpses of hawks perched for prey, grass still dormantly green, waiting for the next rain that has been slow in coming so it can sprout upwards.  Hills that lull into inspiration, mold one's mind into peaceful relaxation.  It all passes with a pleasant blur, a bouyant purr.  Like a hiccup after a swig of Coke, my head lazily pops into weariness.

13.2.06 06:33 Permalink / comment

continuous Bleating, naked Starkly confused, I run through my day Intrepidly fused To a vision of beauty Soft and impure Infused with air, statically clear. Eyes lead to soul And soul to its pulse The universe seems ordered Without any course I wade and I struggle Mud clenches to ripped jeans Who has marked me?  Who is here? Consistently present, but never near.

6.2.06 23:42 Permalink / 1 Comment / comment

gay and lonely I must start this entry by describing the home in which my grandmother lives.  The name is ffice:smarttags" />Piedmont Gardens, sounds lovely enough.  It consists of two large, rectangular towers, connected by a kitchen, dining area, and rooms to host social events.  I would guess there are approximately 2-300 elderly people struggling to live their final years in dormitoritic bliss.  One "tower" is named "The Oakmont Side" and is spoken with a certain level of fear and secrecy, in a similar fashion to a scary character in the Potter series.  This side is officially the assisted living quarters, and once delegated to its humble domains, it is nearly impossible to escape.  My grandmother was able to do it through pure determination not to spend her final years in these discussions.  "Do you like the meatloaf?"  'What!?!'  "I said, are you enjoying your meal?"  'What?!?'  "Never mind, I must say it sure seems pleasant outside today if only we were allowed to go outside"  'What!?!.....This steak is terrible!  I need more coffee, where's my coffee!?!'  Her will, stronger than most, allowed her to make the great leap from assisted living to independent living.  Now, independent living is where all the respectable people live.  The people with class, dignity, independence, and a semi-working capability to hear.  It is difficult to describe, but try to imagine a high-school locker room filled with a collection of gray-haired, snail-paced old ladies, and men, worried instead of homework and college entrance, of mail delivery and lunch menus.  It is a riveting shrinkage of time, and physical stature which requires a special persona to appreciate rather than abhor and flee from.  I am lucky enough to possess such a persona. I am loved in this facility, I am bordering on rockstar, I am Eric, Helen Shipley's grandson.  I can help you hang a picture on the wall, I can reach objects for you located high in your closet, I can flip your mattress.  I can look young and interesting and provide comparatively stimulating conversation in the lunchroom.  My grandmother is hot in this place, partially because she can provide an opportunity to eat with me. I didn't use to have such a big head when it came to my status in Piedmont Gardens.  I used to be humble, subservient, nice.  But my ego was inflated beyond belief the other day by a man named Gilbert.  Gilbert is from Canton, probably around Hong Kong, and he seems to have lived a good life to reach the estimated age of 75.  Gilbert, also it seems, is gay.  At least, that's what he told me, just between you and me of course.  Gilbert verified I was Helen's grandson while walking down the hallway, and then asked if he could speak with me.  After finding a secluded and semi-private part of the lobby, we sat down.  Now, I must admit, I had a slight impression that it may lead in this direction when he asked if he could "speak" with me, but still held the conviction that an elderly gentleman living in such a situation wouldn't feel at liberty to proposition a young man such as myself.  I was wrong the moment I heard his voice quiver and see the sweat start beading on his brow.  I was done for.  I was very polite, smiled, and listened patiently, told him I was flattered, but to be honest Gilbert, I'm not gay, even if it may seem so.  In addition, I don't spend too much time here, and every moment I do, I usually dedicate to my aging grandmother.  Going for a drive, or a weekend trip sounds nice, (hmmm, my mind starts racing to estimate his net-worth, no no NO!!! that is terrible) but I really do not have any plans to go anytime soon.  Thank you very much though. With that, I departed and entered the elevator as quickly as possible in order to see my grandmother.  She welcomed me with the traditional excited "Come in!" and we sat, chatted and made dinner plans.  On the way down to dinner, riding the elevator, she recalled: "Oh, a man has been asking about you, I think he is from Guangdong, I'll make sure to introduce you two the next time we see him". "Oh", I said, "Sure, that would be nice".

2.2.06 17:38 Permalink / comment

temporary I have been schooled recently, completely by the nature of brevity.  Hot springs quickly become a tortured night in the snow, a beautiful morning of the loveliest right you have ever seen, "head high and miles long" becomes an afternoon of ineptitude disassembling my poor bicycle, and putting it back together again.  Now it looks potentially cool, but no more functional.  Does anyone have a hexagonal headed screw a few millimeters longer than the one I have so I can wrench my handle bar together?  No!!  Well, I didn't think you would. The temporary, the calm, the beauty of the moment, blah!!  Blasphemy, it all disintegrates into meaningless babble.  And this point, well, it is supposed to enlighten us, reveal to us the truth, and allow us to let go, expand, and laugh.  Not all the time, at least not yet.  Sometimes you just need to tell someone to shove it, and stomp off in bubbling frustration.  That is what will make me laugh today.

22.1.06 03:22 Permalink / comment

Good Question Should you compromise a little so as to inject your influence into a setting where it's desperately needed? Or should you remain aloof and pure, content to affect mostly just those who already agree with you?

19.1.06 06:04 Permalink / comment

Bumpin Her leg bounces reflexively, like a pogo stick. Is it the three inch heel that creates the pendulous balance, causing the leg to violently twitch, elongated across her knee?  Is it the power suit and the requisite power attitude? Is it a symptom of bitchiness? Or, is it just me? "I paid the bitch two months ago to get the goddam logo in"  Oops, I'm leaning in the direction of the bitch characterization, sorry. Ahh, yes, of course, Stacy, it has been a long time.  Very funny, I'm so good at kissing ass.

13.1.06 04:27 Permalink / 1 Comment / comment

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