sometimes, and I mean this now

Sometimes, and I mean this now, a man just needs a woman on top of him. Nothing dirty about it, no malicious intentions, none of that power struggle stuff about who’s in control and who’s giving in. Not even the oft desired beast with two backs.

It’s just the need for that warmth, that beat, like thup thup thup (or thump thump thump if you hold on for dear life and listen in), and it feels like all the problems, first world or otherwise, matter for less, so much less. They write about things like fingers blazing trails of fire along skin (sometimes dewy skin, but not necessary), and it gets old, sure, but it’s sort of true I suppose. Clavicles, nails, locks, taut stringy muscly parts, soft cushiony pushy parts, sometimes in awkward places (watch those knees and elbows), sometimes fitting into us like the whole rainbow of legos (building blocks, we fit together so nicely in spite of the war of the sexes), palid to peach to pink to all manner of mocha (caramelo y chocolate, ay mamí chula), sometimes spotty or fluffy or smooth or rough, because that’s what it is, that’s what we need: the real deal.

And you know what, know the real deal in all this? Not just any woman, no ma’am. Maybe sometimes, in weaker moments, or when we’ve been torn apart and given in, but most of the time it’s got to got to be her. Not The One (ridiculous notion), but the one, a woman we know and whom we care for, who knows us and cares for us, and when it’s that woman, her? Oh man, oh brother, oh wow.

And so, yes, so much desire, mere desire, but to relegate desire to a secondary or even (jeez, God forbid) tertiary position in the bullet list of life is unimaginable. There’s logic up in here, I assure you, but what can I say except that I am man, I am needy, and if we should be blessed by the blanket then we can die having lived a complete life.

But such post-mortem thoughts can wait. For now I simply ask that you lie on me, silently, and enjoy the first rays of:

The Sun Rising
by John Donne

Busy old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late schoolboys and sour ‘prentices,
Go tell court huntsmen that the King will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams, so reverend and strong
Why shoulds’t thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me,
Whether both th’Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me?
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, ‘All here in one bed lay.’

She’s all states, and all princes, I;
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here, to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.

las locuras del amor

Las locuras del amor… mis pecados

Hay noches eternas cuando me siento en mi patio bajo del cielo y los pensamientos se encuentran en el bosuqe de mis locuras, las que nunca pensaba que yo diera tan facilmente como se las di a ella, la bella. Lo bueno es que cada vez que paso una noche eterna, el bosque se me hace mas agradable, y tengo fe que un dia entrare a el bosque y nunca mas regresare.

Old Girls

The march came together on a Saturday afternoon in September when Azure, Emily, and Devon were sitting on the old orange love seat under the porch in Devon’s step-father’s backyard.  The day was going to peak at one hundred one degrees but they did not know this when they were sitting on the old orange love seat at five in the afternoon passing a joint amongst each other and eating Lucky Charms straight out of the box.  They were not particularly keen to discussion before smoking so when Emily and Azure arrived earlier that afternoon they mumbled mild greetings and waited for Devon’s mother to drive to work so they could blaze and hang out.  Devon’s mother always re-stocked the chips and cereals and rarely asked Devon how she could eat so much in the course of a week.  Devon’s step-father would usually be working in his home office but was away on business for several weeks in Texas where he was at a conference discussing the future of calculators.

Emily stood up and walked to the edge of the porch when the business of getting high and eating was concluded so that she could lean against the corner post and look out through the porch and into the house. She lifted her black sneaker and placed it against the post as she looked at the other two girls.

“So, what’s it?” she asked.

Devon sat cross-legged on the love seat and rubbed her bleary eyes to help her focus on Emily whose bottle curves and long, dark hair gave her the air of a silhouette on a trucker’s mud flaps.  Devon was far less rounded but was happy to retain boyish proportions and her signature short bob if it meant she could avoid attentions.

She turned back to the box in her lap and closed it up.  “Well, I dunno. Walk to Cucineria?”

“No,” said Azure.  “That place is balls.”

Emily chuckled and looked at the house.  “Look at where we live. Everything here is balls.  Desert and dry hills and not a single interesting person—present company possibly included—within twenty miles.  God, what a hole.  Even this place is about as interesting as watching grass grow.”  She gestured toward the love seat and the rest of the house.  “And we don’t even have grass around here.”

“Well, fuck you, Em”  Devon threw the box of Lucky Charms at Emily who managed to grip the top flap before it hit her.

“Jeez, don’t get so upset.  I’m just saying, there’s nothing to do here besides the sitting or watching TV inside.”

“Too hot inside for that,” said Azure.

“Right, so here we are.  Getting high and sitting around doing nothing.”

“If you hate it here so much why don’t we go to your place?” said Devon.

“Because my mom is there all day, and Azure’s dad doesn’t have a job so he’s around all day doing who knows what, and here we are.  We could leave, if you like?”

Devon shook her head and stretched out, placing her head on Azure’s shoulder and braiding a handful of her shoulder-length blonde hair. She began chuckling and looked toward Emily.

“Don’t be a bitch.  I’m just saying if this is the only place you can hang out then don’t complain.”

“Whatever.”

Emily walked to the arm of the love seat and picked up the joint and lighter to take another hit while Azure rested her head back against the wall of the garage and Devon remained stretched out with her head against Azure’s arm.  They sat and listened to the insects out in the brush behind the house and the faint hiss of Emily inhaling.  She returned the lighter and joint to the ash tray on the couch arm and began pacing along the along the edge of the porch farthest from the love seat.

“You ever seen a sunset?” asked Devon.

Emily stopped her pacing and looked toward the hill that started at the base of the property.

“We live in the desert.  No clouds ever.  What the fuck do you think?”

“I don’t mean the sun coming down over the hills.  I mean, like, asunset.  I want to see a sunset.  You know I’ve lived here since the end of elementary school and I’ve never seen a sunset?  Like, one of those movie sunsets where the sun burns up the sky and sets down behind a flat horizon.”

“So what the fuck, you want us moving the hills?”

“Yea, Em.  I want you to move the hills.”

Emily looked at Devon and paused.

“This shit isn’t that good.  Way to go with the sarcasm.”

“I mean it, though.  I want to see one.  We should go on a hike or something so we can see a sunset that isn’t behind some mound shaped like a pile of crap.”

Azure grinned and began laughing which caused Devon to also start laughing.  The pair laughed for about a minute while Emily smugly looked on and smiled though she did not laugh.  She retained her composure and returned to her post.

“Like a big pile of dog crap, you know?” said Devon.  “Just like it!”

When the laughter died Azure rubbed her eyes and looked back at Emily.  “It’s definitely gonna be hot today.”  She then stood and looked out at the hill behind the house.  “The land over by the highway is flat. It’s on the other side of these hills, right Dev?”

“Yea, yea.  We could probably see a good sunset if we hike up there.”

“What?  You heard Azure,” said Emily.  “It’s too hot to do anything outside, especially hiking.”

“Not hiking hiking.  We’ll just walk up and watch the sun set over the highway or whatever.”

“And?” asked Emily.

“And what?”

“And we just walk all the way up the hill and watch a sun set and then walk all the way back down here to where we started?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s, like, a whole two or three hours of being not only bored but also sweaty, dusty, and tired.  Whoop dee fucking doo.”

“Got anything better?”

Emily smacked her lips and walked toward the house.  “I’m going to get some water.  Come up with something that’s actually, I don’t know, fun, and maybe I’ll hang out.”

Devon rolled her eyes and turned to Azure.  “Is your dad at your house today?  Maybe we can watch movies at your place.”

Azure shook her head.  “He’s there.  He hasn’t gone anywhere for months.  Mom keeps saying that if he doesn’t start looking for work nearby he’ll have to move us to a new city.”

“Really?”

Azure nodded.

“That’s just… I mean, really lame.”

“I know.”

Azure glanced at Devon and smiled reassuringly, then stood and looked at the love seat, eyeing it from different angles.  She moved the hair out of her face and tied back the loose strands with a scrunchie that she produced from the pocket of her shorts.

“We’ll take the couch,” said Azure.

“What?”

Azure went to the side of the love seat that Devon was on and picked it up with little effort.  “See?  It hardly weighs much.  It’s probably plastic or something.”

“Cheap, in other words.”

Azure smiled and picked up the side of the love seat again as high as she could, then dropped it.

“Easy to carry.”

“Ouch.  Fuck you, even.”  Devon then stood and picked up the other end of the love seat to test its weight.  It took less effort than she thought it would and she dropped it hard when the weight of it came down on her hands.

“No wonder mom wanted this piece of shit out here.”  She glanced at the hill behind the property and then back at Azure.

“You think we can?”

“Sure.”

“It’s gonna suck having to bring it back down.”

“Said yourself it’s a piece of shit.  I don’t think anyone will mind if we leave it up there.”

“Maybe.”

Emily appeared then with a glass of lemonade that Devon’s mother had left in the refrigerator.  She saw Azure and Devon standing on either end of the couch and frowned.

“What?”

Azure walked over to her and took the glass from her hand.  She took several sips and then returned the glass to Emily before heading toward the house.

“Well, what the fuck?  You going to tell me what you two were doing?”

“We’re hiking.  We’ll need a thermos or something for the lemonade.” She paused then and said, “Dev?”

“In the bottom-left cabinet.”

Emily continued toward the porch as Azure walked away and looked at Devon.

“We’re also taking the couch,” said Devon.

Emily furrowed her brows then simply closed her eyes and lifted the glass of lemonade to her head.

“Christ, I need new friends.”

“You wanted something to do.”

“Whatever.”

Azure returned with two thermoses, one full of water and one full of lemonade.  She tucked them into the spaces behind the seat cushions and then proceeded to one end of the love seat while Devon stood at the other end.  Devon placed the remainder of the joint and the lighter in the Altoids tin where she kept the papers and weed she’d purchased from her friend Russell and together they lifted the love seat and began moving to the back of the property where the brush became thicker and the land began to rise upward along the hill’s incline. They paused when they were just outside the porch to look at Emily, who had taken her place against the corner post.

“You coming, Em?” asked Devon.

“It’s a fucking love seat.”

“What?”

Devon placed her glass on the window sill of the garage and walked toward the other two girls.

“This isn’t a couch, it’s a love seat.  So how’re three people supposed to lift this?  It only has two ends.”

“We’ll take turns,” said Azure.

Emily traced the walk up the hill with her eyes and said, “Fine.”

They began the walk toward the hill that happened to be next to the property owned by Devon’s step-father.  It was a dry, dusty mound similar to the many around it, all of which surrounded the Western edge of the town in the middle of the northern Arizona desert.  Azure and Devon did not know the area, but Emily, who was born and raised in and around Flagstaff, knew it well.  She had never been close to the friends she made before Azure and Devon because she hated the desert and the buildings and the people who liked that place.  She was sure they did not really like to be there but pretended they did, and even then they were still rude and angry all the time.  It was a cage with no bars or walls to speak of.  Emily saw these things as she walked alongside Azure and Devon, who were doing fairly well with the love seat and had not yet broken a sweat.  She asked them if they wanted her to lift the middle or something.

Devon shook her head and licked her lips.  “Nah.  This is cake.”

Azure concurred, and they continued walking.  After ten minutes the way became steeper and more shrubs appeared along the ground which scraped at Azure’s exposed legs.  They also began to sweat.  The droplets rolled down the sides of their faces and both girls agreed to stop for a moment to catch their breath and get a drink.

“Time to switch,” said Azure.

“Already?” said Emily, and the other two girls nodded.  Emily frowned and looked first at Azure, then Devon.

“Who gets to walk?”

“Dev,” said Azure.

Devon smiled and stepped aside so that Emily could lift the lower end of the love seat.  She, like the others, found it lighter than anticipated, and she lifted it as high as she could to test her strength.  She looked at Devon who nodded in agreement, and they continued up the hill.

“Look at Ms. She-Hulk over here.  You could probably drag this thing all the way up by yourself, huh?”

“Maybe,” said Azure, and she half-heartedly grinned.  “If I did, though, what would you be doing?”

“I don’t know.  Clearing the path, I guess.  Making sure we’re not surprised by a snake or something.  Clear the shrubs.”

“Look at Ms. Livingstone over here.”

“Who?”

“Nobody.”

They remained silent again for a time, listening to the dirt beneath their soles crunch and grind, and sometimes crumble away down the hill.  Emily felt uneasy and decided to break the silence.

“You know, we’re pretty pathetic.”

“How… so,” said Azure, between deep breaths.

“If we were smart we’d have boyfriends for stuff like this.”

“Not worth it,” said Devon, and they all laughed, loudly and without restraint.

Devon then asked, “How’s Nassim been?” toward Emily.  “I haven’t seen him since he graduated.”

Emily’s face became serious, nearly fearsome.  “Fuck him,” she said. “I don’t give a shit about him.”

“Why?”

Emily remained quiet except for a slight groan as she stepped over a small outcropping and was forced to lift the love seat above it.

“He’s a liar,” said Azure.

Devon nodded.  “So?  All boys are liars.”

“Not Nassim,” said Emily.  “He’s nineteen.  He’s ‘a real man now’.”

“Men are just old boys,” said Azure.

They all nodded and stopped talking about Nassim.  Devon looked on Azure worryingly and was prepared to step in to take her place when the ground began to even out.  They stopped to drink and mop the sweat from their foreheads and brows.  Azure looked up toward the flat peak and said she could manage all the way to the top as long as she was guaranteed a seat cushion.  Emily had no problem with the arrangement and Devon grudgingly agreed before they continued for another eight minutes where they finally reached the highest point. They set the love seat down and Azure immediately dug out the water thermos and drank from it, while Devon and Emily eyed the remaining seat.

“All you,” said Devon, and Emily happily took the place beside Azure. They leaned against each other and drank from the thermos until it was emptied while Devon took out the Altoids can and offered it to both Azure and Emily, who waved it away.  She set the tin down on the dirt and then sprawled out across the back of the love seat, her face beside Azure’s where she could smell the dust and sweat from the long march and her feet dangling off the edge near Emily.

“You won’t see any sunset from there,” said Azure.

“We have some time, don’t we?”

Azure looked at the low sun in the Western horizon and said, “I suppose.”

They sat quietly for a moment, and looked toward the sun though never directly at it.  The highway stretched from South-to-North, left-to-right, before them, along with the brown mountains and hills that made up that part of the country, their world.  The late September sun would soon set down below the crags of the horizon.

“Do you really think men are just old boys?” asked Emily.

“Of course,” said Azure.

Emily leaned back and crossed her legs as they lay stretched out before her.

“So I guess women are just old girls?”

Azure nodded and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

“Can’t be anything else.”

this life

This life’s supposed to be built on triumph and heartache, tragedy and ecstasy. The worst and best experiences form a whirling dervish of sorts and inform the highs and lows that wind up on the page as they’re flung loose. When there’s no tragedy or ecstasy to speak of it takes going out and finding some. The secret of it is: it’s easy. Those peaks and valleys are so easily obtainable that one has to wonder why we don’t all spend our lives partying and crashing, fighting and fucking. If we’ve a mind to we can step out and find these things right now, but here we are. We fall into stability (or instability) and remain there. I suppose that’s our tragedy, our something worth writing about.

“don’t get comfortable”

They tell us that life’s this path, right? Like it’s all flat and we can just walk down it at our leisure? Well nah, man, that ain’t it. It’s more like we’re these round stones and when we get spit out the womb we’re on a hill, and for the rest of our lives we tumble down this damn thing doing what we can to turn a little bit this way and a little bit that. Sometimes it’s smooth and turning ain’t no thing. But then, sometimes it ain’t, and one turn sends you into a pit or over a bump that’s got you flying all in the air and coming straight down, man, coming down hard. The more of that shit we go through the more cracks we get and the more rough and used up we become til eventually we see one too many bumps and the cracks give way and we break apart and stop, sitting in the way of others as they roll past us and our remains chip away at them.

kind of a researcher

I’ll admit something: I’m kind of a researcher. I notice trends and patterns (vestiges of a former career in marketing, past lives n all), and one particular trend this place has going for it is the level of interconnectedness between many different users. Other places have this type of networking as well, but not to this level, and certainly not based around content. The interconnectedness here is based on that content, on what each of us can contribute to the neverending conversation. This is how I’ve come to find folks who contribute really interesting pieces in the form of fiction, essays, art, music, photography, and all kinds of other wacky things. Some are personal and some aren’t but they all have this incredible potential to inspire and it’s done by very simply following someone’s work and reblogging it out to another set of followers. This, to me, is an interesting trend in ‘social networking’. One has to wonder how this will evolve as market pressures rise up (because in this game evolution is mandatory), but I hope it doesn’t affect the current system too much. This right here, this works.

And of course I haven’t forgotten that behind every piece of interesting content there’s a person, and when I get to thinking aboutthat it just kinds of melts my face. What a world, ey man? What a world.

7 facts

1. Worked as a shoe salesman (retail associate) for four years.

2. At age eight rode my bike around and around the asphalt of the school grounds at Centinela Elementary and crashed directly into a tether ball pole. Don’t remember this happening and lost several minutes, but I’m told it happened so why not, it’s a fact.

3. Taken to lifting the beard up over my mouth/nose when thinking. It smells like dust.

4. Was raised up in Inglewood, CA.

5. Wear t-shirts 98% of the year, through the rain, the heat, the hail and fog. Goosebumps are plentiful.

6. Fell half-asleep on the side of the road near a town called Randsburg in the Mojave desert at 1 in the morning because I was too tired/drunk to continue. Witnessed amazing things that night but they were probably not factual observations.

7. Met Macho Man Randy Savage. He is a cordial dude.

My favourite little secondhand bookstore.

Years ago, when I was still in Inglewood, I used to go to this place on Market Street. Mind you Market Street in Inglewood in the last three decades had been a collection of closed movie theaters from the 1940s (still proudly displaying weathered marquees), athletic shoe shops, beauty shops, liquor stores, and indoor swapmeets that abounded in counterfeit goods, and nearly all of these places were run by Koreans with some black and latino folks mixed in. I still don’t understand why that was, but I’m sure you can find someone who knows about urban development and cultural migration patterns to explain it, and mind you none of this stood out because it’s just the way it was. Thinking back I didn’t appreciate the fact that we even had a Main Street.

In any case if you’re picturing this, a street halfway between urban charm and quaint Main Street decay, then you need to throw in a brownstone building (though I didn’t know what a brownstone was because, again, Los Angeles), and in that brownstone there was the bookshop. It was like finding a back-alley hovel on the streets of Marrakech or some other place that may as well be Shangri-La to a kid from Inglewood. The inside wasn’t dark, but it was lit by the sun’s rays in the day and faint lights at night, both of which lent it an ethereal glow. There was also a fine dust in the air which contributed to the weird, hazy feel, like being in a TV soap flashback. The moment you entered there was the smell of wood smoke and that aforementioned haze, along with the occasional wisp of tobacco from the owner’s pipe. He was a middle-aged Vietnamese gentleman who greeted everyone with a smile and a “how are you, my friend,” and when you had a question it was “let me show you, my friend,” and when you’d chosen a book to buy it was “good choice, my friend.” This gentleman (and that’s what he was, more gentlemanly than you and I, that’s for damn sure), I never learned his name, much for the same reason I was always “my friend.”

The shop itself wasn’t laid out like a shop is supposed to be laid out, like the places at the mall. There weren’t neatly organized rows of plastic shelves and carefully categorized sections. A librarian’s nightmare no doubt, but there was a system.

“Science fiction?”

“Which is that, my friend?”

“Um, books about the future ‘n stuff. Robots, outer space.”

“Oh, back corner, over there.”

He’d point, and that was the system. He’d point at the wooden table in the center, or any one of the large, wooden shelves that lined the outer edges of the shop proper. You’d walk over and sure enough there’d be a collection of books from the genre, with old mixed in with the new, and none of it alphabetized. It wasn’t convenient if you were looking for a specific book but the best if you liked going on book-finding adventures. Sometimes you’d stumble across things like bookmarks, records, feathers, beads, hats, tobacco pipes, and other miscellaneous baubles that the shop owner liked to throw out there and sell, just for the hell of it.

Of course I haven’t told you about the best part of this bookshop. See, this gentleman, this connoisseur of the finest aged books and trinkets, he had a secret place. The wall of shelves at the far end of the shop only reached the midpoint of the shop’s space, and beyond those shelves there was always a green glow of sorts that you could see on the ceiling past the top of the shelf wall.  There was no visible access to this part of the shop and if the owner wanted to get in there I imagine he’d have to climb over the bookshelves and jump over the shelf wall.  He never did this, not while I was there anyway, but I bet that whatever he had back there, it was good.  It had to be something like a collection of secret tomes that revealed some secret knowledge about the most secret things in the universe, like why the leaning tower of Pisa hasn’t fallen, or the method of aging an egg for a thousand years in the span of only a few months, or ten thousand ways to make love to a woman for ten thousand days.

That’s what I imagine now.  Who knows what I must have thought back then and I certainly can’t be expected to recall, but it’s always peculiar that I could be sitting somewhere, like a flat boulder up in the Sierras or a shaky stool in a bar on Geary, or even in front of a computer with Tumblr on-screen, and have the memories of my visits to that shop float right back up to the surface, triggered by the faint recollection of dust, of green lights, and of a time when the world was something I read about in books.

dramatization

I was going to quote something long-winded by some famous person about the fact that all writers (even those dry scientific types) are liars, weaving intricately beautiful lies, making sense out of the chaos, and all that associated jive, but it wouldn’t help.  The truth is only possible in the moment, and every interpretation of the truth is a dramatization – it may not have happened.

What, then, do we do? Simple:

“Just say. Just write. Just do.”

… and hope that the lies are worth reading.

The places that may claim us

Those of us who were born and raised in that glittering outpost know its intricate snare. There is always a a new city, a new restaurant, a new bar, a new woman. It keeps you enthralled so as to slowly sap of you something. Life force, money, what have you. Of course not everyone leaves L.A. It has its good qualities and during that golden period you speak of it is an amazing place, warm and safe and ever-present, but me? Couldn’t take it, bro. Los Angeles never ends, and I needed to know that existence is finite.

I’ve thought back to my time in that world of a city and now realize that the most unnerving aspect of it all is the flatness and the people huddled on the plane, waiting for something to happen.