IPOD
RADIO
11 AM nearly on the dot. I could swear I heard her door open. And the foot falls on the steps, were Pavlovian to me. My heart began to race, I love the sound of those funny red and green shoes on the concrete steps of our apartment building, it wakes me up like the bubbling fury of my new fangled coffee maker. I heard that sound and anticipated her shining on me like that first main line cup of the cheap Mexican espresso grind I've grown addicted to. Click clack click clak clik clack…
For some reason that day I must have been more hypnotized than the others, maybe the sun was particularly intense or maybe I was just ready, because I stood and listened to the foot steps and my eyes began to close, my head fell back a bit and my mouth curved up at each end forming the unmistakable smile of the domestic North American Moron. And when I sensed her presence before me, and I did sense it, I abandoned that smile and my silence, and said the most poignant thing any admirer can say to a woman he's infatuated with from afar.
"Hi"
I must have startled her, my eyes opened, so I could see I had thrown her for a loop. I had disturbed the natural progression of her Sunday ritual, and I feared I may have only incurred her wrath. Stopping she turned and smiled
"Ex…cuse me?- she responded quizzically, with a look on her face that balanced curiosity, confusion and downright fear. And I understood, I must have looked a fool, and as she had, to that point, not been aware that I was capable of audible communication, her obvious assumption of my less than average intelligence was hardly something I could take offense at. So I played it out the way my grampa would have, that's right I asked her where the nearest bathroom was… No I kid, my grampa was smooth-
"I said Hi… but I'd like to add to that if you don't mind, and ask, How you are?" I shattered my fear in the course of that question and felt my face thankfully relax into a natural grin. Her demeanor delightfully, wonderfully, perfectly mirrored mine. And when she opened her mouth to speak again, she couldn't get the words out before locking her cheeks into the brightest smile I'd ever been privy to. Like a perfect Sunday morning sky, with the blue and white of her eyes holding that sunny smile in it's natural place. I could not help but think, I would stand there for a month of Sundays if she would just let me taste the frames of that smile with my own.
"Well, Hi" she said finally finding her words "I'm great… great… just, ….great"
She stepped closer and I could smell the fresh scent of her linens with the light breeze. Her shoes, her odd shoes, were only inches from my weather beaten Rainbows. This was something…. This… was something…
For some reason that day I must have been more hypnotized than the others, maybe the sun was particularly intense or maybe I was just ready, because I stood and listened to the foot steps and my eyes began to close, my head fell back a bit and my mouth curved up at each end forming the unmistakable smile of the domestic North American Moron. And when I sensed her presence before me, and I did sense it, I abandoned that smile and my silence, and said the most poignant thing any admirer can say to a woman he's infatuated with from afar.
"Hi"
I must have startled her, my eyes opened, so I could see I had thrown her for a loop. I had disturbed the natural progression of her Sunday ritual, and I feared I may have only incurred her wrath. Stopping she turned and smiled
"Ex…cuse me?- she responded quizzically, with a look on her face that balanced curiosity, confusion and downright fear. And I understood, I must have looked a fool, and as she had, to that point, not been aware that I was capable of audible communication, her obvious assumption of my less than average intelligence was hardly something I could take offense at. So I played it out the way my grampa would have, that's right I asked her where the nearest bathroom was… No I kid, my grampa was smooth-
"I said Hi… but I'd like to add to that if you don't mind, and ask, How you are?" I shattered my fear in the course of that question and felt my face thankfully relax into a natural grin. Her demeanor delightfully, wonderfully, perfectly mirrored mine. And when she opened her mouth to speak again, she couldn't get the words out before locking her cheeks into the brightest smile I'd ever been privy to. Like a perfect Sunday morning sky, with the blue and white of her eyes holding that sunny smile in it's natural place. I could not help but think, I would stand there for a month of Sundays if she would just let me taste the frames of that smile with my own.
"Well, Hi" she said finally finding her words "I'm great… great… just, ….great"
She stepped closer and I could smell the fresh scent of her linens with the light breeze. Her shoes, her odd shoes, were only inches from my weather beaten Rainbows. This was something…. This… was something…
A new story for a new muse-
I never thought to ask her why she always wore those shoes. I figured she had a problem with her feet or that she was one of those hipster chicks who cruises the flea markets or resale shops in Pasadena or Silverlake for obscurities. All I did know was that every Sunday that little blonde would come racing down her stairs and streak past me with a big blue eyed smile and a bounce in her step. She was goin somewhere sure, but not church? No she was no more the church goin type than I am. Maybe a friend's place or an AA meeting, those freaks always make their appointments on time.. well.. until they don't.
But every Sunday I saw my little bit of sunshine glowing past me as I washed my little car in the parking lot and every Sunday she smiled at me, and I waved back, and every Sunday i looked forward to her smile. In fact I grew reliant on it. I grew needful, to see her trot, her legs passing one before the other in those snug little pants of hers. That hurried way she ran not with anxiety for fear of missing a bus or being late, but rushed with the glee of a child on her way to the toy store with a crisp hundred dollar bill and no stupid grown up to tell her what she can spend it on. She had me, and I knew for sure that she had me one Sunday morning when i got out my soap and bucket and began to fill the bucket with water only to remember that I had washed my car the night before when Donny, spilled his in'n'out milshake on the hood trying to tell us the story of how He nearly beat some kid down in Circuit City for talking shit about Halo 3. Donny's always been full of crap, but he's harmless, well unless there's dairy involved. So yeah, there I was Sunday morning, RE-washing my car, waiting to see my little blonde stranger trot past me with her blue eyed smile, her tight little pants and those odd shoes...
That's it for now, if you like it I'll write you more tomorrow-
I never thought to ask her why she always wore those shoes. I figured she had a problem with her feet or that she was one of those hipster chicks who cruises the flea markets or resale shops in Pasadena or Silverlake for obscurities. All I did know was that every Sunday that little blonde would come racing down her stairs and streak past me with a big blue eyed smile and a bounce in her step. She was goin somewhere sure, but not church? No she was no more the church goin type than I am. Maybe a friend's place or an AA meeting, those freaks always make their appointments on time.. well.. until they don't.
But every Sunday I saw my little bit of sunshine glowing past me as I washed my little car in the parking lot and every Sunday she smiled at me, and I waved back, and every Sunday i looked forward to her smile. In fact I grew reliant on it. I grew needful, to see her trot, her legs passing one before the other in those snug little pants of hers. That hurried way she ran not with anxiety for fear of missing a bus or being late, but rushed with the glee of a child on her way to the toy store with a crisp hundred dollar bill and no stupid grown up to tell her what she can spend it on. She had me, and I knew for sure that she had me one Sunday morning when i got out my soap and bucket and began to fill the bucket with water only to remember that I had washed my car the night before when Donny, spilled his in'n'out milshake on the hood trying to tell us the story of how He nearly beat some kid down in Circuit City for talking shit about Halo 3. Donny's always been full of crap, but he's harmless, well unless there's dairy involved. So yeah, there I was Sunday morning, RE-washing my car, waiting to see my little blonde stranger trot past me with her blue eyed smile, her tight little pants and those odd shoes...
That's it for now, if you like it I'll write you more tomorrow-
To a blind solicitation from a woman who thought she would impress me with her overt sexuality, she even gave herself a mighty presumptuous pen name. Don't worry, she's not here, and I'm not betraying her, I won't print her letter, but she pissed me off.
-
I would very much like to see what this new Zelda Fitzgerald that you claim to be looks like. Being the more traditionally visual of the genders and in the interest of an egalitarian exchange it seems only fair, non? You write decently eough, I wonder what it is that you do... I don't necessarily want to know just yet, I am happy for now, contented rather, in the slight mystery that spans the gap between your reality and my imagination.
I do know full well and quite intimately the relationship you're seeking. In fact, I've sought it out myself and had it a few times, well, until someone breaks the agreement and falls prey to jealousy or the natural possessive tendencies of the more sexually naive American culture. I say someone to be kind, but as a matter of fact it has yet to be me.
Sounds to me that you want a boy-toy with a forked tongue, a wicked mind, and a genuine heart. A man who can wrap you as tightly and with as much affect with his words, his mind, his very manner, as will come from his hands his arms his V shaped surfers back, his lengthy stretched and sun-darkened frame. And my god my dear you should have such a thing, such a man, such a beast to take to your fiery hearth and laugh with you at your breakfast table. To fully appreciate, nay love as only one who fears the loss of so sweet a candy, the taste of your flesh. A one who will drink at your stream, the nectar of a brilliant and accomplished demi-goddess. A boy, who will fill you up, and offer no mercy to your needful body, but thrust himself against and inside you in an abandon of all things civilized, all things decent, a man who for the time it takes to unfurl your sails entirely will rage at your body, your vessel your beautiful V, and when those sails do set and
you cry out the name of whatever god you see fit to believe in that day, that boy, that massive tireless trunk of a boy will explode with eyes painfully closed and the primal scream of a one who is marching to the gates of Troy to reclaim his beautiful Helen or receive his beautiful death.
You should have that boy, and when you find him, tell me how he was, because I ain't him.
Oh, You're a good one alright kid, but you're no Zelda-
don't write me again-
-A
-
I would very much like to see what this new Zelda Fitzgerald that you claim to be looks like. Being the more traditionally visual of the genders and in the interest of an egalitarian exchange it seems only fair, non? You write decently eough, I wonder what it is that you do... I don't necessarily want to know just yet, I am happy for now, contented rather, in the slight mystery that spans the gap between your reality and my imagination.
I do know full well and quite intimately the relationship you're seeking. In fact, I've sought it out myself and had it a few times, well, until someone breaks the agreement and falls prey to jealousy or the natural possessive tendencies of the more sexually naive American culture. I say someone to be kind, but as a matter of fact it has yet to be me.
Sounds to me that you want a boy-toy with a forked tongue, a wicked mind, and a genuine heart. A man who can wrap you as tightly and with as much affect with his words, his mind, his very manner, as will come from his hands his arms his V shaped surfers back, his lengthy stretched and sun-darkened frame. And my god my dear you should have such a thing, such a man, such a beast to take to your fiery hearth and laugh with you at your breakfast table. To fully appreciate, nay love as only one who fears the loss of so sweet a candy, the taste of your flesh. A one who will drink at your stream, the nectar of a brilliant and accomplished demi-goddess. A boy, who will fill you up, and offer no mercy to your needful body, but thrust himself against and inside you in an abandon of all things civilized, all things decent, a man who for the time it takes to unfurl your sails entirely will rage at your body, your vessel your beautiful V, and when those sails do set and
you cry out the name of whatever god you see fit to believe in that day, that boy, that massive tireless trunk of a boy will explode with eyes painfully closed and the primal scream of a one who is marching to the gates of Troy to reclaim his beautiful Helen or receive his beautiful death.
You should have that boy, and when you find him, tell me how he was, because I ain't him.
Oh, You're a good one alright kid, but you're no Zelda-
don't write me again-
-A
Sometimes it is better to take the classics out of context to act as metaphor, than to try and explain yourself-
Here's to another failed experiment. Goodnight Little Bird-
Between the desire, And the spasm
Between the potency, And the existence
Between the essence, And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is, Life is, For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
_T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
Here's to another failed experiment. Goodnight Little Bird-
Between the desire, And the spasm
Between the potency, And the existence
Between the essence, And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is, Life is, For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
_T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
So I got the gig, and just spent the bulk of the past two days finishing my first assignment. The assignment is the less glamourous portion of the gig, that I will have to suffer through for the first month or so while they get comfortable with my style and they determine where my narratives will fit into their publications. Thank you all again for your support I really adore each and every one of you (some more than others, and you know who you are).
Now it's on to find my new bespoke suits equipped with a slew of good advice, fashion tips and I believe Velvet Petal, you agreed to join me, is that right Velvet Petal?
Oh and tomorrow night may prove an interesting one if all falls into place.
For a new muse- just under 6'
There are muses dancing on the lawn
and in the heads of poets
a dreamer sat upon that lawn
but he refused to know it
A painter stopped to catch a glimpse
of all that was in play
her eyes grew bright and caught his sight
the dreamer's held at bay
The poet raised a hand to speak
the painter raised a brush
the dreamer raised an eyebrow
the muses raised a hush
And so they sat upon the lawn
the dreamer, painter, poet
the muses danced around their heads
at peace, were they, to know it
Now it's on to find my new bespoke suits equipped with a slew of good advice, fashion tips and I believe Velvet Petal, you agreed to join me, is that right Velvet Petal?
Oh and tomorrow night may prove an interesting one if all falls into place.
For a new muse- just under 6'
There are muses dancing on the lawn
and in the heads of poets
a dreamer sat upon that lawn
but he refused to know it
A painter stopped to catch a glimpse
of all that was in play
her eyes grew bright and caught his sight
the dreamer's held at bay
The poet raised a hand to speak
the painter raised a brush
the dreamer raised an eyebrow
the muses raised a hush
And so they sat upon the lawn
the dreamer, painter, poet
the muses danced around their heads
at peace, were they, to know it
Solicitation: I got a great e-mail today from a friend who runs a writer's representation firm, she asked me to submit some adult/erotic writing/stories/copy for upcoming publications. It was incredibly flattering to be asked, and of course I'll submit, but I (like anyone in a creative field) suffer from fears of artistic inadequacy and a shaky professional ego. I'll let you know how it goes. Might be nothing might be cool, it's just fun to consider the prospect, no?
There is another solicitation I meant to present myself, I have decided to up my image a bit and am looking for suggestions. I LOVE Saville Row 3 piece suits, and would love to have a closet filled with them, but that being quite cost prohibitive I would love to find an alternative with perhaps a bit more of a stylistic edge than the traditional london clothier. Casual enough to wear to drinks, coffee or dinner, but suitable for business meetings.
Thanks in advance guys-
There is another solicitation I meant to present myself, I have decided to up my image a bit and am looking for suggestions. I LOVE Saville Row 3 piece suits, and would love to have a closet filled with them, but that being quite cost prohibitive I would love to find an alternative with perhaps a bit more of a stylistic edge than the traditional london clothier. Casual enough to wear to drinks, coffee or dinner, but suitable for business meetings.
Thanks in advance guys-
I grew up a fat kid, and not a happy fat kid, I was unjustly ashamed of my body, my size, my appearance, and well hell I was different from everyone else I knew growing up in that Jersey town. I didn't have a favorite sports team, i didn't like playing army, or war games of any sort. I liked to draw, and paint, sing, write stories, play with clay. For the longest time i thought I was dysfunctional, I thought i was a misfit. What's more, i have twin brother who is EXACTLY the prototypical boy, with so deeply ingrained a love for the NY Mets that you would believe Dwight Gooden was his father and a certain laissez faire attitude toward emotion that seems prevalent in the misogynistic culture or lack there of that is, blue collar Jersey. My one saving grace was my mother, she did as best she could in an Irish Catholic town with four other kids, to nurture my difference, while still not wholly understanding it. When I got angry she put a pencil in my hand, when i cried and my brothers or father told me to walk it off she talked to me so i could tell her why i was sad, and once when I was 11 years old she woke me up on a Saturday morning, and out of the blue said "Do you wanna get your ear pierced?" I had never considered it before, but you know what, HELL YEAH I wanted to get my ear pierced!!!! She made being different not feel like a bad thing when I was with her. She made me feel okay about being the artsy kid, and never asked me to explain it or pretend to be something else.
I'm much older and perhaps wiser than that 11 year old boy who woke up with an earring, but meeting some of the people I've met here on this site, in this community makes me feel like that happy bloody eared boy all over again.
Vive la difference!!!!
You are all precious to me, and I thank you
I'm much older and perhaps wiser than that 11 year old boy who woke up with an earring, but meeting some of the people I've met here on this site, in this community makes me feel like that happy bloody eared boy all over again.
Vive la difference!!!!
You are all precious to me, and I thank you
I don't know how many of you know this, but I'm kind of a political junkie and today i just wanted to do a post to show my respect to a man who made me look forward to Sundays. His passing is affecting me like I wouldn't have imagined, He seems now, as though he must have been a family member, or long time friend or mentor?
So, though I never knew you, beyond knowing you through a pane of glass, I will sincerely miss and mourn you, Mr. Tim Russert.
We lost the country's best advocate of political transparency, today-
So, though I never knew you, beyond knowing you through a pane of glass, I will sincerely miss and mourn you, Mr. Tim Russert.
We lost the country's best advocate of political transparency, today-
Sorry for being absent as of late. I am in the process of moving and had a split with my business partner with an already overwhelming number of projects in the works. So i've been putting out fires all over the place and haven't had much time to write. But I miss you guys-
Hey anybody know any eager Web Developers in OC?
Hey anybody know any eager Web Developers in OC?
SEPTEMBER 2008
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