There's nothing more irritating than having a perfectly good dream interrupted. Especially when you're woken up by a certain Anaheim songbird demanding that you "wind it up."
i hate you.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
And if the wind is right you can find the joy of innocence again...
I had what I think was a profound moment recently...
I spent several days on Catalina Island. Drinking beers and soaking up cancerous UV rays during the day and singing karaoke and dancing to mexican pop music by night. I even dragged myself into the ocean-- full of cigarette butts and soapy urine bubbles-- a few times to really make an attempt to be one with nature.
It wasn't until the boat ride home that I felt completely at peace. Sitting outside, I could feel the salty air flow through my newly sun-lightened hair and vibrations in my feet and legs as the angry waves of the polluted ocean violently hit the sides of the boat as we raced toward the mainland...
...I imagined it was the very early 80s, and I'm in a sailboat...my sailboat. The sea is a close friend of mine. I know the ins, outs, ups, and downs of every great body of water. While the ocean is unpredictable and treacherous for most people, it's a clean smooth ride for me. Sailing is merely something that happens between the wind, the ocean, and the boat, while I sit calmly smoking cigarettes, drinking diet coke, and listening to Christopher Cross.
I'm wearing a navy blue bandana around my head, with aviator sunglasses and cut-off jean shorts. My skin is dark brown with many premature wrinkles... I feel complete. Like nothing exists except me, my lover, and our boat. No responsibilities, no guilt.
My hair feels sticky. My skin feels chapped. A shower would ruin everything. My lover has a salt and pepper handlebar moustache and looks amazing in his faded orange t-shirt. We both feel drunk...Could it be the constant rocking of the boat...or the Budweiser and marijuana?
Now, whenever I'm near the water (the coast, a river or a lake), I'll be able to recall these memories which never happened to me. Experiences that likely happened to someone else. Someone who's no longer alive but is still very connected to the ocean.
I spent several days on Catalina Island. Drinking beers and soaking up cancerous UV rays during the day and singing karaoke and dancing to mexican pop music by night. I even dragged myself into the ocean-- full of cigarette butts and soapy urine bubbles-- a few times to really make an attempt to be one with nature.
It wasn't until the boat ride home that I felt completely at peace. Sitting outside, I could feel the salty air flow through my newly sun-lightened hair and vibrations in my feet and legs as the angry waves of the polluted ocean violently hit the sides of the boat as we raced toward the mainland...
...I imagined it was the very early 80s, and I'm in a sailboat...my sailboat. The sea is a close friend of mine. I know the ins, outs, ups, and downs of every great body of water. While the ocean is unpredictable and treacherous for most people, it's a clean smooth ride for me. Sailing is merely something that happens between the wind, the ocean, and the boat, while I sit calmly smoking cigarettes, drinking diet coke, and listening to Christopher Cross.
I'm wearing a navy blue bandana around my head, with aviator sunglasses and cut-off jean shorts. My skin is dark brown with many premature wrinkles... I feel complete. Like nothing exists except me, my lover, and our boat. No responsibilities, no guilt.
My hair feels sticky. My skin feels chapped. A shower would ruin everything. My lover has a salt and pepper handlebar moustache and looks amazing in his faded orange t-shirt. We both feel drunk...Could it be the constant rocking of the boat...or the Budweiser and marijuana?
Now, whenever I'm near the water (the coast, a river or a lake), I'll be able to recall these memories which never happened to me. Experiences that likely happened to someone else. Someone who's no longer alive but is still very connected to the ocean.
Monday, May 28, 2007
I'll make this quick.
For some reason, every time I sit in front of my computer for even a short period of time I get very dizzy and my pinky finger begins to tingle and fall asleep.
I fairly sure I have bad circulation, and today I realized this could be due to the fact that I smoke a pack of cigarettes a day. So around 5 o clock, I quit smoking.
At precisely 9:51 I drove to Rite Aid to buy some binders for my final school projects, and I ended up buying a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Toasted Head Cabernet Sauvignon.
Every time I quit smoking I get crazy ideas. Often I pretend I'm on one of those Vh1 Celebreality TV shows, only it's only an hour long special about me trying to quit smoking. I picture the camera crew around me, and the disappointed looks i would get from them if after just 4 hours of not smoking, I light up.
It never works.
So I bought my last pack of cigarettes. And it truly is my last pack. I've decided if I want to smoke for the rest of my life then I'm allowed to. But I'm only allowed to smoke cigarettes that were originally packaged in the box that is sitting in my lap at this very moment. If i want to smoke, then I'll have to make the 19 remaining cigarettes in the pack last for the next 70 some odd years.
I think I'll waste one now.
I fairly sure I have bad circulation, and today I realized this could be due to the fact that I smoke a pack of cigarettes a day. So around 5 o clock, I quit smoking.
At precisely 9:51 I drove to Rite Aid to buy some binders for my final school projects, and I ended up buying a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Toasted Head Cabernet Sauvignon.
Every time I quit smoking I get crazy ideas. Often I pretend I'm on one of those Vh1 Celebreality TV shows, only it's only an hour long special about me trying to quit smoking. I picture the camera crew around me, and the disappointed looks i would get from them if after just 4 hours of not smoking, I light up.
It never works.
So I bought my last pack of cigarettes. And it truly is my last pack. I've decided if I want to smoke for the rest of my life then I'm allowed to. But I'm only allowed to smoke cigarettes that were originally packaged in the box that is sitting in my lap at this very moment. If i want to smoke, then I'll have to make the 19 remaining cigarettes in the pack last for the next 70 some odd years.
I think I'll waste one now.
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