Tuesday, July 29, 2008
i love my new life
being in a relationship might be the best thing that's ever happened to me. northern California is full of charm and excitement. rafting/camping several times a week is a perfect summer job. driving a beat-up old 4-beater stick shift is adventure. ice cream tastes best at the end of a long day. big tips mean more when you've earned them. sky smells good when you can see the stars. fruit picked from a tree in your yard tastes better. friends are everywhere. distance sucks. sleeping is not overrated. drinking is. i love my new life. 4 chords make a song. mayonnaise is good for you.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
surplus
heading in, eyes squinted, with fervorous abandon,
I throw caution yon in knowing hopes
that the bright sun will soon light my way
to something unexpectedly divine.
Even in the darkest times, the summer fails to disappoint
and does it ever. delaying routines, living a dream
I bask in river-washing sun, running rampant
across countrysides by waterbanks;
it's drunk to live in summer months
sunning pretty bellies as if you've not already
then sun some more
bronze my shoulders till they're sore
losing myself to mountain lore
swim in rivers, baking on-shore
puting up tents inside our door
I love this summer surplus store!
I throw caution yon in knowing hopes
that the bright sun will soon light my way
to something unexpectedly divine.
Even in the darkest times, the summer fails to disappoint
and does it ever. delaying routines, living a dream
I bask in river-washing sun, running rampant
across countrysides by waterbanks;
it's drunk to live in summer months
sunning pretty bellies as if you've not already
then sun some more
bronze my shoulders till they're sore
losing myself to mountain lore
swim in rivers, baking on-shore
puting up tents inside our door
I love this summer surplus store!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
WAY TOO MUCH FROZEN YOGURT
hey guys. just wanted to check in, see how y'all are doing. you know.
Remember back in the days of Fosters' Freeze, when we'd get whopping Twisters swirled with peanut-butter cup and chocolate chips, then go watch some crappy B-movie at work for free? Afterwards we'd spend hours chillin in the break room, waiting for the movies to start so we could play the arcade games by kicking the change intake and reseting a New Game every time..until they'd break. Once in LA down some crowded street in Burbank, inside a bar I found myself with a stash of quarters standing for an hour with a blue plastic gun gripped between my palms, aiming it at an arcade screen. 5 dollars later I had been made fun of enough by the dart-throwing bros next door so I left, and sighing with the memories of that same futuristic Police Academy game satisfaction I'd had after so many late nights of the Placerville Signature Theater. Like my frozen yogurt ventures tonight, I was reminded of the days of Foster's Freeze Twisters and bad B freebie movies.
Then there was that peanut-butter-chocolate ice cream cake pie that we got at Denny's, and how I obviously took it back to work with us. Or the time I brought home a Costco carrot cake from rafting training in the spring and froze it, on Roosevelt St.. I was the only one who ate any of that. And I loved it! Nothing tastes better than frozen colored buttercream frosting. Han Solo loves sweets.
OK, so, one night I was up in the wee hours of freezing winter, beneath my car with charcoal black hands bleeding, scraping a starter between the poorly-designed exhaust pipes of a 1980 Toyota Corolla. Even then my dad thought I was too hasty. Or how about the time we climbed the baseball stands at night and stole the PA speakers, then hooked them up to our car stereo and blared music through them as we cruised downtown. Or when we snuck down the dirt tracks of the football field to stake out and watch the stars blot out the night sky? Or that time I drove up Hwy 9 on a mission to find the perfect flowers, only to end up spread open in a wild field, throwing my precious Beer Token into the wind and singing "Blow Blow Thou Winter Wind" to the oncoming dusk, picking more flowers and carefully placing them back on the doorknob of a girl's house whom I fell in love with. Then there was the time I crested Carson Pass alone in the dead of winter, at 9000ft with front wheel drive in a beatup car and no chains, no cars nearby to keep me company, and swirled in by a blizzard on all four sides, so that I had to back down slowly and blindly until I rediscovered the lost road - and the 7 1/2 hour drive it took me to return back home, patiently and frantically waiting for cell phone service in an avalanche-filled night. Or the time a bee landed on my leg while riding down a hill on my bike, and me plummeting in silence toward fast-approaching asphalt, smearing my shoulders and face on the rolling black rocks of the road, and how Matt found me wandering into the house delirious and quickly coming to my aid. One time I walked out of our room across the deck as Matt swung a giant oar in revolutions around his head, and for a second I watched the blade come cracking against my skull, sending me staggering and laughing at the bloody hilarity of it! Remember? And then how Dad refused stitches because...well, the hospital bill. OK ok, how about the morning Dad backed his truck out of the driveway, broadsided my Corolla with his rear-end and then drove off to work without telling me- that day left me at school in the morning wondering what the heck had happened. Or when my Tempo was broken into and all my hard stereo work was yanked from that precious vehicle, along with Matt's Radiohead CD that had been in the stereo the night before as I had driven home from a party in Greenstone.
Speaking of flying in the air, there was that time I flew backwards for a few seconds with a snowboard strapped to my feet then landed with my tailbone on a sheet of ice, from the impact I have a lifelong deposit of extra bone mass which i quickly deemed my "bulbous". Like running down a mountain pass with no trail and only a backpack on in wailing winds and balls of ice sleeting down on our heads. Or hopping the fence under the eerie spinning lights of the airport, climbing that rickety tower to the top and curling up in balls to look out over the twinkling lights of the Sacramento Valley. leaping from Salmon Falls bridge into a flow warm lakewater. biking to the top of every hill in town to give a thumbs up to nature. standing in the now Dream Inn with two large pizzas in one arm and an entire Mexican family in another, getting my picture taken, the original Santa Cruz Pizza Guy. climbing street lamps to sit on top, singing to a lightning storm with arms wide from a roof.
this is my bounty. some times are bigger than others, but none are better. looking at Mars in its closest from a telescope in Pollock Pines. driving a tank home from a high school party. there are too many things we do that are good, and we must keep doing them. its real bounty, and you could call it fun or adventure or whatever. Yesterday we swam and jumped in the river, then danced and drank the night away. These things are my bounty. the real sweets of living.
love ya, and so does my frozen yogurt
Remember back in the days of Fosters' Freeze, when we'd get whopping Twisters swirled with peanut-butter cup and chocolate chips, then go watch some crappy B-movie at work for free? Afterwards we'd spend hours chillin in the break room, waiting for the movies to start so we could play the arcade games by kicking the change intake and reseting a New Game every time..until they'd break. Once in LA down some crowded street in Burbank, inside a bar I found myself with a stash of quarters standing for an hour with a blue plastic gun gripped between my palms, aiming it at an arcade screen. 5 dollars later I had been made fun of enough by the dart-throwing bros next door so I left, and sighing with the memories of that same futuristic Police Academy game satisfaction I'd had after so many late nights of the Placerville Signature Theater. Like my frozen yogurt ventures tonight, I was reminded of the days of Foster's Freeze Twisters and bad B freebie movies.
Then there was that peanut-butter-chocolate ice cream cake pie that we got at Denny's, and how I obviously took it back to work with us. Or the time I brought home a Costco carrot cake from rafting training in the spring and froze it, on Roosevelt St.. I was the only one who ate any of that. And I loved it! Nothing tastes better than frozen colored buttercream frosting. Han Solo loves sweets.
OK, so, one night I was up in the wee hours of freezing winter, beneath my car with charcoal black hands bleeding, scraping a starter between the poorly-designed exhaust pipes of a 1980 Toyota Corolla. Even then my dad thought I was too hasty. Or how about the time we climbed the baseball stands at night and stole the PA speakers, then hooked them up to our car stereo and blared music through them as we cruised downtown. Or when we snuck down the dirt tracks of the football field to stake out and watch the stars blot out the night sky? Or that time I drove up Hwy 9 on a mission to find the perfect flowers, only to end up spread open in a wild field, throwing my precious Beer Token into the wind and singing "Blow Blow Thou Winter Wind" to the oncoming dusk, picking more flowers and carefully placing them back on the doorknob of a girl's house whom I fell in love with. Then there was the time I crested Carson Pass alone in the dead of winter, at 9000ft with front wheel drive in a beatup car and no chains, no cars nearby to keep me company, and swirled in by a blizzard on all four sides, so that I had to back down slowly and blindly until I rediscovered the lost road - and the 7 1/2 hour drive it took me to return back home, patiently and frantically waiting for cell phone service in an avalanche-filled night. Or the time a bee landed on my leg while riding down a hill on my bike, and me plummeting in silence toward fast-approaching asphalt, smearing my shoulders and face on the rolling black rocks of the road, and how Matt found me wandering into the house delirious and quickly coming to my aid. One time I walked out of our room across the deck as Matt swung a giant oar in revolutions around his head, and for a second I watched the blade come cracking against my skull, sending me staggering and laughing at the bloody hilarity of it! Remember? And then how Dad refused stitches because...well, the hospital bill. OK ok, how about the morning Dad backed his truck out of the driveway, broadsided my Corolla with his rear-end and then drove off to work without telling me- that day left me at school in the morning wondering what the heck had happened. Or when my Tempo was broken into and all my hard stereo work was yanked from that precious vehicle, along with Matt's Radiohead CD that had been in the stereo the night before as I had driven home from a party in Greenstone.
Speaking of flying in the air, there was that time I flew backwards for a few seconds with a snowboard strapped to my feet then landed with my tailbone on a sheet of ice, from the impact I have a lifelong deposit of extra bone mass which i quickly deemed my "bulbous". Like running down a mountain pass with no trail and only a backpack on in wailing winds and balls of ice sleeting down on our heads. Or hopping the fence under the eerie spinning lights of the airport, climbing that rickety tower to the top and curling up in balls to look out over the twinkling lights of the Sacramento Valley. leaping from Salmon Falls bridge into a flow warm lakewater. biking to the top of every hill in town to give a thumbs up to nature. standing in the now Dream Inn with two large pizzas in one arm and an entire Mexican family in another, getting my picture taken, the original Santa Cruz Pizza Guy. climbing street lamps to sit on top, singing to a lightning storm with arms wide from a roof.
this is my bounty. some times are bigger than others, but none are better. looking at Mars in its closest from a telescope in Pollock Pines. driving a tank home from a high school party. there are too many things we do that are good, and we must keep doing them. its real bounty, and you could call it fun or adventure or whatever. Yesterday we swam and jumped in the river, then danced and drank the night away. These things are my bounty. the real sweets of living.
love ya, and so does my frozen yogurt
Friday, July 4, 2008
wanderful truth
Today is the 4th of July. At one point in history this day was representative of a day in time when us Americans would celebrate our independence from Great Mother England. Good for us. Now barely 200 years later our country is plummeting into a financial recess with no where to turn to but nature and the economy. Even Great Mother England laughs at her bastard child. Point is, I can eat all the cottage cheese I want but I'll still be lactose intolerant. When we go against nature it's one thing to celebrate it, it's another to remain blind. I say either embrace your dishonesty or don't go against nature. I mean, why hide bad gas if you knew what you ate was going to give it to you? Share that stench smiling, and live free with it! Love yourself fearlessly! This is liberation, to live without fear of ourselves and what we choose to believe in, or eat. It's what our country was once founded on - a knowledge of freedom for the true self, without fear.
When my mind wanders, it wonders about this freedom, about a way that is always based in happiness (the opposite of fear) and truth. It wonders about new and greater ways to tell the same old ageless colorless invaluable truth. Happy 4th everyone
When my mind wanders, it wonders about this freedom, about a way that is always based in happiness (the opposite of fear) and truth. It wonders about new and greater ways to tell the same old ageless colorless invaluable truth. Happy 4th everyone
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
one more thing (mom):
not living in LA doesn't mean I'm not still working on a professional acting career as hard as ever. did i need to live in LA in order to get the freakin D job?
heck No techno! watch me prove y'all foo's wrowng!
heck No techno! watch me prove y'all foo's wrowng!
Wanderlust
I made love tonight, with a car. Inside and behind its dashboard, alone on an endless stretch of foresty highway, against a pitchblack star-studded middle of the night, I made sweet sweet love. It's been a long time since I have felt this sort of pleasure, a very long time in fact. Too long. Months, even. I don't think I have driven on a freeway at night in months. Especially not in those hours of the night when you are solely alone smelling warm mountain air blasting through the window slits at you, staring half-gazedly at a sky swarming with shining stars, a chalky milk of galaxy looming above, the lights and your few gauges illuminated below. My dear heavenly God it's the definition of pure pleasure for me, it stokes such a passion inside that in my new stick-driven, perfectly-shaped Kia Sportage I can't help but feel as though I am heavily making love with the her, and with the night sky.
Wanderlust: to lust in wandering. That's the generation I come from. I wouldn't care what to do with anything else in my life so long as I eventually get to taste the warm night air, sans hinges or weights, LA or Placerville or Santa Cruz or Utahr.
So there it is. That is me, that is my generation. Always been.
Delivering pizzas or standing on a stage and looking out at an audience I can still sense the adventure of it all..
come Wanderlust with me
Wanderlust: to lust in wandering. That's the generation I come from. I wouldn't care what to do with anything else in my life so long as I eventually get to taste the warm night air, sans hinges or weights, LA or Placerville or Santa Cruz or Utahr.
So there it is. That is me, that is my generation. Always been.
Delivering pizzas or standing on a stage and looking out at an audience I can still sense the adventure of it all..
come Wanderlust with me
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