dead-eyed—

you don’t, no,

all

—ways know

more

than me

heart beating of the Past

Zion recalled the happenings of a week before. He had been out with Emily after work – they had dinner together, and ended up sitting in Zion’s car for a couple of hours, talking. Having decided that their discussion was not over, Zion said they should pick up beer and head over to Emily’s, so they did. Emily would never pass up an opportunity to be in Zion’s company, and was glad he had brought up coming over, so she wouldn’t have to ask. Zion knew, and played along. They had a couple of beers in Emily’s room, then Zion headed downstairs to grab some more, while Emily sat – heart and mind racing – on her bed. She heard a door open and someone call her name. She thought it was Zion, she smiled, and as the shadow walked through the door she was about to speak but instead saw Nicholas’ head pop in. He had been in Esperanza’s room, and wanted to see Emily before he left their place. They exchanged hellos and Nicholas asked her if she’d be at the party, and she responded by asking if he would be at the party. Zion walked up the stairs and heard Nicholas’ voice, something unexpected, and the circumstances he found himself in, with both Emily and Nicholas, he met the situation with laughter. Nicholas heard the laugh, his stomach sank, realizing Zion had been with Emily, and that he would probably be spending the night in Emily’s room. With the sick feeling in his stomach he looked down the hallway, didn’t see anyone, then looked back at Emily, whose forced awkward smile told him she knew exactly what was going through his mind. It was a desperate need to escape – leave, disappear without being seen. Without saying bye Nicholas walked down the hallway, and saw Zion’s smirk glow in the light that flooded through the window. Zion said hello to Nicholas, but Nicholas dropped his head – eyes hitting the carpet, and walked by without acknowledging Zion’s greeting. Zion kept smiling, walked into Emily’s room, and Nicholas heard the door being shut as the beige carpet grew black – the light from upstairs fading.

Drilling my heart: striking eyes & batting lashes

your hair a like lines of this poem

               where I run

                                                            my mind

               fingers

strands, my heart

growing fond

thoughts

                              plait me

this heart(')s beat; this boy's in love

Zion looked at Nicholas, took a swig of his beer and said, "I don't think you understand what love is.  The beautiful part of love is being able to love someone without trying to make their body your own."

            At this point in the night both were drunk.  And both had been hit by one of the by products of drinking too much – the gentle spirited feeling of always being right, even when wrong.  With every beer came a new level of spiritual transcendence, and a new reason to keep talking.  Nicholas had been sitting across from Zion, but had now shifted over to the seat on Zion’s right.

            "But that's not it at all - that's not what I am trying to do," said Nicholas.

            "Then?"

            "See, I don't think it is an attempt at making their body your own, but just an attempt at letting them know how you feel.   Letting them know how you feel emotionally about them is important.  But letting them know how your body feels, letting them touch you and you touching them in return, you know, well, it's just an entirely different level of understanding.  I think that is the beautiful part of love."

            "Maybe, but why are you trying to hold my hand?"

Seismic beat: Sine(s, ) Waves

a notion of us

can deter-

mine waves

over and

you're under-

currents

sand a-

way steps

once taken

Architecture

Sometimes, I feel like I just need to get out of here.

I know what you mean.  I need to break

Don't know how, though.  How to leave.

I'm going to build us a story.

Dead beat Heart beat

In my head I am constantly updating this blog - in practice I rarely update.  However, I do occasionally check the blog as if someone else will update.

Maybe posting old writing will get the gears going.

new time

step by

step  over

land

marks places &

a time

  when

making our way

through

a man

made

path

  cracked concrete

        steps

left

  right

     until we reach

a grove nestled next

to a ship

of know-

     ledge over

a fallen tree

trunk where dirt

has collected

     days

weeks have matured

to months, hand in hand-

some lengths of time

     january leaps over

     only to march

     through showers

     and may flowers bloom

but are forgotten

  underfoot

     petals are

     crushed thinking

     they love me  and erring

     they love me not

& only leaves

crackle under flip

flops an occasional high

heel

and the dirt

is unforgiving with holes

branches stretched to

far places

     and a hand

     or a bird

     or rain

     or time

has broken little

wooden arms

standing in

piece by piece

  a silence

  conducts a song

  less beauty

that seems to tune

out the thoughts of others under

  standing seems long

  gone

day to

day today

often feels

like the age

of the rebel

with

out a cause without

a rebellion

        that now lets

        us walk

back &  forth

shred

shed

change what was

said

with parts

in the past

You spin me round round

Round round I spun you.

Cake Mix:
Part I of my mix at Carly's birthday party

Six, Teen Candles

From the desk of

The only thing I love more than updating my blog is not updating my blog.

Upcoming events worth noting:

Growing up, birthday parties were synonymous with piñatas – piñatas filled with candy, piñatas filled with money & piñatas filled with flour (the adults in my family were funny, real funny). Carly celebrates her birthday the only way I knew growing up:

I’ll be filling Kate Tsang’s shoes behind the laptop & speakers. We will celebrate with NYC in mind and you in our hearts & dancing feet.

And, if you’re not exhausted from the piñata bashing, then good – I‘ll see you the following night for my dear friend Stephanie’s birthday party. For this we migrate from LA to Orange County. A warehouse Halloween celebration, no flyer for this one, little ones, sorry:

I’ve retired my Warhol wig for something more contemporary & timeless.

I'll leave you with a view from behind my desk at work:

Inside my desk, top drawer: Rosebud salve, stress-relieving lotion, dove chocolate squares

long week & weak days

we've got love
and hate, it

is the only way

something you can clutch

if i were to, and you
might as well, be

filled with pebbles & pearls—

there would be a sinking
feeling, rocks inside you
& me, stringing
a long something
for you to
choke with

Living life on a computer keyboard: hit return.

a city two love





some say love
is a place

i was

convinced,

i fled the country
side on the side

streets, trying to find

a city inside you
and the stare-
way in
to heaven

beside you

hear the art hear the art;

broken hearts.




provocative




limp
ankles & wrists
rest in your mind—

a sleep in your eyes
where hands held
a time, less beautiful
now
with the present

in hand

you want to leave me

tongue tied
trying to say
in knot
so many words—

you’ve created a noose
& tightened my lips

isn't the ending, so much as the start (?)

A bit delayed, but this is in honor of the end of an era.

We've all made our own nests in different places. We reluctantly said good bye to the days of Modena, and were once again forced to bid adieu to the days of the W.Ave, which I lovingly named & lived in.

Modena partially reunited as the W.Ave

W.Ave's wall
(I hide behind alcohol, while animal-out-of-their-natural-habitat looks on)

Where to find us: Bangkok, Los Angeles, Seal Beach & overlooking the burgeoning renaissance of City Heights from a private balcony.

Help yourself to my sloppy seconds - 32 minutes.

First mixtape attempt:

Gym Clothes Off – Hood Internet
Blue Monday – New Order
Two of Hearts – Stacy Q
Gravity’s Rainbow (VanShe Tech Remix) – Klaxons
Pogo (CSS Remix) – Digitalism
Cheated Hearts (Peaches Remix) – Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Radio (Shinichi Osawa Remix) - Felix da Housecat
In My Arms – Kylie Minogue
Your Bmore (Singing Sunday Remix) - DJ Roctakon
Shadows – Midnight Juggernauts
Hustler – Simian Mobile Disco
Call on Me – Eric Prydz
Girls and Boys – Blur
Like a Prayer – Madonna
Ain’t Nothing Gonna Break My Stride – Men at Work

Click to download Beat Salad

The lady of the house is the host

& also a guest

read me

Don't Stop, Don't Stop

Just keep. Ongoing, my love for Brazilian Girls.


From their latest single, "Good Time" -

some people want pussy pussy pussy marijuana
some people want nothing, only staying home with momma
some people want nothing and need nothing and are free
they just want to have a good time

Yakety Yak

SQZMYLMNS @ the OFFICE was garbage, although not completely. The music was good, as expected, though the crowd was dead and few and far between. As far as the place itself, its no longer anything like Scolari's, in fact, its the opposite. The days of cheap drinks are over. Jive Wire @ the Casbah was an entertaining alternative to SQZMYLMNS. San Diego is still San Diego which basically means you will run into everyone you know on any given day - whether you want to see them or not; you'll always be 'surprised.' That night ended with a Jack Daniels disco dancing clearing of the dance floor.

The majority of my weekend was spent in the company of asian women, among them the already notorious "animal out of their natural habitat." Speaking of the devil, I was checking out a sale at Express with her (her mother had notified her of the sale - believe it or not, her mother is Chinese & into sales) & some crazy bitch asked me where "my" fitting rooms were. Within the hour we were sitting at an undisclosed restaurant. We were seated in a corner & within 10 minutes of sitting I asked our server what we had done to be punished with the seats we were given - he was speechless, embarrassed & was notably shy about returning to our table for the remainder of our 'meal.' I was kidding with him.

Blow Up LA - you are garbage. From the hustling security guard to your seven dollar watered down drinks to your unlit bathrooms. Also, your music sucked. However, if you're ever in LA, driving down Sunset Blvd. by Short Stop in Echo Park, stop by the gas station on that corner and have a bacon wrapped hot dog. Vegetarians, watch your non-vegetarian friends eat one.

Test, Part III: Matching

Match the following text with the most fitting photograph.

I'm a bitch
I'm a lover
I'm a child
I'm a mother(fucker)
I'm a sinner
I'm a saint