"Horses Don't Live in Cities"

2011-06-09T23:40:00.000-07:00

Well, now I think it is Summertime. And maybe, for one last real time, there are no Big Boy jobs or responsibilities (or paychecks) or some of the fancy, lovely things that will be here next Summer.

But there are still bicycles, hikes, watermelon seeds, eating roadside strawberries, and learning this old new town again. And I am not alone!

Hello.

2011-03-07T20:53:00.000-08:00

So, from what I can gather, there are a measly 4 "Followers" of this blog; individuals who, I must imagine, hunch desperately at their laptops, cup of tea in hand, waiting to hear what may be the next kernels of truth to pop out of this writer.

No truth, no kernels, only a "hello" to stop the gap between October '10 & October '11.

Good morning, earth!

2010-10-29T06:50:00.000-07:00

Waking up in dark
My heavy eyes are itchy
Driving before sun.

Backcountry blogging

2010-08-17T12:58:00.000-07:00

All is well in the Dinkey Lakes Wilderness.

So it was a little out of the way...

2010-07-21T20:09:00.000-07:00

...but the City was ready for A, X, & B.

Bird by bird

2010-07-21T20:02:00.000-07:00

We went to the LA Zoo last weekend and it was quite nice.

Super Cuca's

2010-05-30T23:20:00.001-07:00

I thought I'd toot my own horn, but I think instead I'll just toot.

Auto

2010-04-27T23:31:00.000-07:00

I remember seven years ago, when all I wanted to do was get in the car & drive.
Now all I want to do is get out of the car & do anything else.

Sunglasses at night

2010-04-21T08:44:00.000-07:00

It was after midnight last night (this morning) when I was lying in bed & realized that I had left my sunglasses in the back of my mom's car. On Wednesdays, she leaves for work by six in the morning, while I don't have to roll out of bed until eight.

Frightened at the thought of a day at work with my trusty goggles, I climbed out of bed & into the garage. Grabbed the glasses. Put them on. & why not? No matter that every light in the house had been put to rest, & no matter that I was the only soul awake to see my childish stunt.

All I'm saying is, if you've never walked around a pitch dark house while wearing sunglasses, it's about time that you gave it a chance.

At ease, gentlemen

2010-04-07T09:38:00.001-07:00

There are coming many days when I will need to wake before six in the morning. Those days are not here yet, so I was a bit puzzled by the unknown number telephoning me at 8:02 this morning.

I'm glad I didn't pick up the call; a reverse phone number lookup told me that the caller was an Army recruitment center in Houston, Texas.

All I'm saying is that someone from the Army wanted to talk to me at eight o'clock in the morning. That's really all.

Found!

2010-03-11T23:23:00.000-08:00

Found:
One necklace

Lost Necklace! Reward!

2010-03-11T21:32:00.000-08:00

Lost:
One simple necklace; ~~one~~ two of a kind
Dirty hemp string
Green & black textured bead
Half-inch steel washer

If found, please return (for a generous reward) to BDH!

A Word on Secondhand Valentine's Day Candy

2010-02-16T17:08:00.000-08:00

Wonka's Fun Dip, with the very taste & texture of an illicit drug, cannot possibly do anything good for my body.

But I do, for the moment, have a blue tongue.

Paris to Roubaix; or Here to There

2010-02-02T21:44:00.000-08:00

What I really want to do is ride around on a bicycle,
some times fast,
but some times slow
With a good friend or two by my side
(or even leading the way).

We would ride to see scenic views,
to eat spicy foods,
or just to give the atmosphere a break from all that soot.

No big house, no shiny car.
Maybe a good bike, a good beer, & a good conversation are reasons enough to go to work.

Bye bye

2009-12-17T10:05:00.000-08:00

A Recipe

2009-12-09T16:49:00.000-08:00

Place a little bit of milk in a saucepan over low heat.
Put in some cinnamon sticks (you may have to snap the bark in half).
Drop in a hand full of white chocolate chips (stirring gently).
Find a half-used packet of microwavable hot chocolate & pour it in (keep stirring).
Add in a sloppy, uneven tablespoon of "Sipping Chocolate."
Heat & stir until it's cinnamon hot chocolate time.
Blog about it.

Divisadero, Five Forty-Three

2009-12-05T12:36:00.000-08:00

Some times people fight—I suppose—simply to fight.
This is fine, but at times it is not fine.

Only do not spew gay slurs at defenseless patrons in our favourite neighbourhood restaurant.
If you do, it can be counted on that 1) Your sloppy inebriation will spill into my lap [I will not be amused] & 2) An odd couple of East Africans will throw your opponent onto the sidewalk, one advising, "Listen to your Mama! You're embarrassing yourself!"

Do not fight—please—simply to fight.

Dee-sember

2009-12-02T17:07:00.000-08:00

People keep pressing their faces up against the glass but there's not a darned thing I can do about it.

But a college life is only days & hours & dollars from its death, so it's time to worry about new windows & new noses.

Besides, what does it say about me that:
1) I want to spend thousands of US dollars on a bicycle, &
2) I worry that immediately upon leaving said bicycle locked up in front of any building that it will go missing?

A Confession (& Hello to EAR)

2009-11-16T01:10:00.000-08:00

Consider this my plea.

It is not a very long bicycle ride from Dolores Park to Lyon & Fell. It is, however, uphill.
So we rode, Trevor & Clint & I, churning pedals & grinding gears.
"Don't get caught in the tracks again!" He says as we cross over the railroad.

Trevor & I, side by side, climbing up Church Street. & on Church, a pigeon (either brave or unintelligent) saw his life flash before his beady eyes.
In my defense, Trevor swerved to hit him. & was unsuccessful. He only directed the poor bird into my tire's trajectory.

I would love to say, "It all happened so fast," but this would be untruthful. Still climbing uphill, I also twisted the bike, with my aim to avoid the hapless pigeon. Rubber. Feathers. Vertebrae. Asphalt.

In one unfortunate spin of a tire, his day was over. On pigeonesque swivels, we turned our heads back to survey the street. A little flapping. Less flapping. & then none.

So I may not be a popular man in this liberal City, where animals outnumber children on most days. But let the records show that this vehicular slaughter was anything but voluntary.

Why do the Clippers have to be so lousy?

2009-11-01T23:22:00.000-08:00

I used to have a whole stinking blog dedicated to my fandom of the worst pro basketball team in the country. That got too depressing, but I still think the question should be raised: What makes the Clippers so consistently bad, year after year after year after year...?

If you don't care for the city of Los Angeles (the Clippers share an arena with the Lakers) or competitive team sports or overpaid athletes (the 15 players on the Clippers make over $59 million this season), then please close this window. I'm just saying....

Overdue for a

2009-10-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

Of all the life-altering, heart-warping, & soul-squishing encounters I've had in the City, I find it cruel that I choose to rant about the my living accommodations. Maybe the whole lot is all too weighty to be pooped out in digital text on blogger.com

"Blog more, you'll be glad you did" sounds cute enough, but I think the best reflection and processing of this semester is to be had over a beer (or three) or in a cramped Mexican restaurant, where we can at least have the option of making eye contact & you can hear the wavering of my voice when I tell you how much I don't know about Being, Humans.

So, I will tease my three readers (& two followers) with the following nuggets, before proceeding onto the ever-shrinking patch of carpet between my desk and our bunkbed:

1. Working in public health is about as unglamorous as it gets for people at the post-doctoral, post-master's level. A favorite task has been to corner employees of San Francisco General Hospital—who could clearly be earning a killing at other medical facilities—& to ask them why they do what they do, where they do it. You would be surprised how quickly people light up when you ask them about their work.

2. If people change, it is a very slow & delicate process.

3. Jesus is still important.

4. If your favorite possession is a quilt your mother made for you, tell her so.

Now that that's out of the way, I can freely restore this blog to its function: complaining about my tiny room.
Fall Holiday came (thanks, Christopher Columbus) & we went camping. & hiking. & typhoon-dodging. Wednesday meant another day at the (unpaid) internship. Eight hours out of the house during which my tall, white roommate decided to clean the room. & change his sheets for the first time. (I'll change mine soon.)
I doubt I mentioned publicly the seven-foot climb from seabarf green carpet up to my dirty bunked mattress. 45 consecutive nights of jumping, clawing, & praying that I wouldn't fall out of bed. Lord knows the floorboards in this house couldn't withstand my hairy body plummeting from the attic, if I did roll out.

Back to Wednesday. After a long day at the internship, & a frustrating bus ride home (see Teasing Nugget #2, above), I hiked upstairs onto the set of Extreme Room Makeover. The seabarf carpet's color and consistency stayed unchanged, but there was more of it; literally square yards of floor were visible between the front door and the fire escape window. Our beds were made up, & in an act of pure selflessness, Nate had swapped our mattresses. No longer do I have to pull out the trampoline to get into bed. I can now climb out of my covers and feel the balls of my feet touch the ground. Thanks, Nate.

The beds made, carpet vaccuumed, & even the surfaces of our desks organized, I peered into the bathroom. The characteristic stench remained, but the familiar snarls of body hair & toilet paper were distant memories. My roommate CLEANED HOUSE!

Fast forward five days & a hundred "Let's-keep-it-this-clean-forever" promises, & we are back to the beginning. The bathroom tile is again sticky, more of our carpet is missing under piles of socks, ties, & underwear. A good day is one where I don't find an article of Nate's clothing tossed carelessly on my bed.

But this is how it should be. When the City calls, you'd better answer. Unless you're too busy trimming your beard (almost) over the bathroom sink.

We Moved out of the Basement

2009-09-08T09:25:00.000-07:00

In one swirling week I have biked the Golden Gate (twice!), donned a tie, interviewed in two languages, danced at a gay club, & cheered for a rival team.

& I still haven't unpacked all my stuff...

[A]Basement

2009-08-30T22:45:00.000-07:00

So we're here, we're moved in, & I can taste the city just by straightening my back & swiveling my neck.

Nate & I are in a tiny room in the basement of the old Victorian, but we have realized there is really nothing to complain about.

There are walls, doors, a roof, & a fully functioning bath room.

Here goes nothing!

Here goes everything!

City—

It's about time we exchanged some stories.

Away to the City

2009-08-29T11:29:00.000-07:00

It's time to go; let's go, let's go, let's go.

A Few Pictures

2009-08-18T17:19:00.000-07:00

Yes, here is the link to my Flickr page, where you can find some photographs from Lindsay & Andrew's engagement party.

It was a good time.

∞

2009-03-09T23:41:00.000-07:00

It may take a little more than a snow storm for me to post again. It looks as though it was over a month ago. & that was by no means a verbose masterpiece.

Because I cannot quite explain why, but my tiny heart pumps too fast when I think of big words like eternity, death, & forever. It has pumped so, ever since my care-free-est child days.

It is no comforting conversation to overhear bright theologians squabble over the details. It only shoots my mind, like a creamy-coloured cue ball, into ump-teen different trajectories. What about our families? & friends? & spouse(s)? & what of bodies? cremated, drowned, or buried bones?

"We'll all rise & return to Earth," some say.

"But wouldn't it get a little crowded?" what, with thousands of thousands of years & billions of shimmering bodies walking around?

& for always? Eating for fellowship, & not out of need? No sleeps? or sunsets?

& only harps & hymns & happy times?

I want to understand what it's like to love the Maker, & not just the Made. To know both would be best, I do believe.

But if I'm to keep up any sort of race, I'd like to check double that I am faced the correct direction.

2009-02-08T22:51:00.001-08:00

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

When we were kids, we didn't need licenses for any of this stuff

2009-01-26T16:00:00.000-08:00

I am certified.

My blood has been tested & my skin has been examined.

My ears have been inspected & my tonsils have been scrutinized.

My fingerpads have been scanned, copied, and verified.

My driving record has been retrieved, reviewed, and approved.

My First-Aid card has been validated (for the next one thousand days).

I will keep your information confidential.

I will not sexually harass you, (so you'd better not harass me).

NOW, I am certified.

Count me not cynical toward the system, but simply weary of jumping through all these hoops. For so it has seemed.

NOW (but only NOW!?) I am certified to hear your story, to walk with you, & to laugh with you.

I'll see you soon, whoever you are.

Oh, Buttons!

2009-01-04T01:27:00.000-08:00

I have consumed much media in these two weeks away from the busy-ness of school & such. I think that I like it.

Thanks to movie passes from a good friend, I saw Brad Pitt in makeup telling an old story. Too bad we dilly-daddled & had to sit in the 2nd row, creasing our neckskin to intake the images only inches away from our squinting eyes.

Upon reaching California again, I tracked down an online copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story.

While the director went silly with the details of B. Button's biography, the lasting, dissatisfying sentiment was evoked by both film & book.

Usually, when a fictitious story shakes me up, I need only a few minutes of fresh (non-theatre) air to remind that it's only a movie. But this--this was different.

Surely we don't end up toddlers & infants before the grave, but age-induced dementia could effectively reduce us to such. But maybe it's not so bad.

Well into his seventies,

"Benjamin found that playing with little strips of colored paper,
making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most
fascinating game in the world."

"Sometimes Nana let him jump on

the bed, which was fun, because if you sat down exactly right it would
bounce you up on your feet again, and if you said 'Ah' for a long time
while you jumped you got a very pleasing broken vocal effect."

& still I lie here, puzzled. I am frustrated because I feel too young, yet I am in no hurry to get back into diapers to make paper chains.

Perhaps Hollywood should be commended for stirring up a little discomfort in my tiny heart. Maybe (maybe!) I'll just live today, today & tomorrow, tomorrow.

This, a New(er) Year

2008-12-30T15:49:00.001-08:00

I am only posting because, again, it has been too long.

I have nothing of substance except to name-drop.

I look forward to many people, places, and events in 2009. Some of them are [in alpha-beta order]:

- A Nelson - [Advanced] Badminton - AM/FM radio - B Berky - B Sale - Bicycle rides - C Davenport - Chicken strips - D Jenewein - D Small - D Jenewein - D, J, L, & S Hardgrave - Dodgers at Giants - E Haught - Farmers' market - Graduating from college - Jesus - M Miller - Mammoth Mountain, California [?] - Miscellany -Niceville, Florida* - Practicum[s] - Rainy days - San Francisco, California - Santa Barbara, California - Santa Barbara Zoo - Shaver Lake, California - Spring Sing 09 - There are more [add them if you read this]

On Violence

2008-12-08T23:49:00.000-08:00

You cannot tell me why it is that you want to fight

& wrestle me & defeat me

& whack your kid brother, & all these other things

But you did, through the gap between sugared teeth, offer your story

of a time

When doors ought have been closed & sounds muffled, your elfish ears flooded with foul music

When hands crafted for caressing betrayed their hinges, your tired eyes beheld elbow shields

When Daddy & M—

But oh, the bath water beckons, to interrupt your monologue...

& I, catapulting your wiry frame to the ceiling, ask you why you want to fight

& your huff-puffing deepens, knobby knees sink into couch cushions, a refuge from ketchup-stained carpet

No matter that the TV blares & Billy barks, for your tired eyes behold Mario's battles

For surely voices now are muffled, even drowned

Glub....

Glub...

Glub.

T/F

2008-11-20T23:43:00.000-08:00

With a blonde bull-cut top affixed to a wiry body, one young chap could not act his age.

The tricks & complications riding on the wind don't allow saplings to steady themselves.

Keep growing up, whipping, whirling...

Until we dwarf the burning branches.

& blah blah blah

i am sleepy

2008-11-09T13:53:00.000-08:00

The cold wind is refreshing enough to remind me of younger days & bread-bowled chili & fireplaced Legos.

I suppose this, too, is okay. But I'm still sleepy & want for little more than a cup of hot cocoa & Scrabble or maybe even Legos.

News Wire

2008-10-16T23:38:00.001-07:00

It's been far too long since I've typed any thing up & placed it on this page.

So perhaps I should do as those TV detectives suggest, & retrace my steps since the last post...

Has anything exciting worth blogging about taken place?

9/19: Stephen Hawking showed us a weird clock

9/22: We finally learned how old Stonehenge is...maybe

9/28: This guy ran really fast

9/29: My dad turned fifty-five & I remember some thing about a belly dancer & a sword...

9/30: For the first time, I heard the words "milk" & "scandal" in the same sentence

10/03: Jackson Browne rocked my socks off at the Arlington. Groovy shades. & O.J. Simpson...oh, never mind...

10/10: I'll have to wait another year to earn my Prize

10/15: Another tease from the Blue Crew

If you have been hibernating, bears, consider this an elbow nudge to your thick, matted fur.

Wake up.

This is, after all, a very peculiar time to be alive.

These Days

2008-09-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

To my Three or Four Faithful Subscribers -

This is still a wondrous time to be alive.

- B

Thursday has all ways been my favourite day of the week; the reasons have changed over the years, but the sentiment persists

2008-09-18T23:34:00.000-07:00

The simplest explanations:

a multi-coloured bouncy ball

childish library pranks before laboratory work

mint chocolate chip brownies with a redheaded friend

giggling

skim reading

piggy-back rides for blonde(ll) boys

cycling, sweating, cycling

butter & fresh herb pasta

Assuredly, it is a noble enough task to follow our noses where ever they might lead...

2008-09-16T23:58:00.000-07:00

Tonight I came across a school-made construction paper card from a boy to his parents.

It may have been oversight, or just sloppy penmanship, but the inside of the card read this:

"To Mommy and Daddy,

Happy Holiday.

Your Sin,

Nathaniel."

The religious pluralism that has swept over the school system made me chuckle at the inclusive seasonal greeting in this overtly Christian home.

I also wondered what it would be like to take a holiday from my sin.

Oh, I'll come back, you know...

Cody, WY

2008-09-07T00:36:00.000-07:00

School has started, but this musing has nothing to do with that.

It's perhaps a played/out echo of what generations of Beings all ready know.

It's quite vaguely an altar call for the Wanderers to shrug Their tense shoulders & simply exist.

It's a revisitation to the idea that Individuals have an undeniable duty to only become & to explore who They are & the joys for which They were crafted.

I witnessed this simple grace in action, you know.

Tiptoeing & elbow/bumping with Friends & Strangers squeezed enough room between two heads a window to joy.

As though there were no other place, deed, or duty but that tight moment, C.Hollywood Davenport breathed life through the blues harp & into as many warm ears as would stop to listen.

That's all.

Year Three

2008-08-31T14:57:00.001-07:00

It is a very good thing to be within a bicycle wheel's turn of any where.

Input Requested...

2008-08-21T16:41:00.000-07:00

You see & hear about those people that are ahead of their time.

But I tell you that I am a boy behind his time.

I walked into an electronics store looking for a simple transistor radio, but all I found were shelves full of MP3 players.

Of the music I have purchased, most of it is more fit for forty- or fifty-somethings and NOT a little collegiate boy.

Six days of the week I choose to dress myself in shorts, t-shirts, or defunct basketball jerseys.

Why does it scare me when I consider a forty-hour work week wrapped (&trapped) in shirt & tie?

Basically, if there is any magi or other(wise) person out there, I am simply looking for consolation that it's okay not to grow up conventionally, or at least all at once.

There's still time for all of that, right?

...right?

La Ponderosa

2008-08-02T17:12:00.000-07:00

There is something that is altogether revitalizing about pushing into the wind, circling the map, & never crossing the same slab of sidewalk twice.

But in passing brightly painted stucco or weary grey souls bolted to a park bench, the fear is undeniably escaping.

A peculiar discomfort inevitably turns the local into a drifter, as familiar streets take on unrecognizable landscapes & street lights burn out.

It's the sort of development that gently nudges the traveler home sooner than planned.

"I'm in Fifteenth Grade"

2008-07-21T22:34:00.000-07:00

So I'm not going to waste any energy this time on writing eloquently or creatively. Perhaps this marks a [semi]permanent transition to a simple, journalistic style of reporting on my life.

Fair enough.

After a ten mile bike ride & a perfect cup of ice cream, I heard the knock on my door.

It was a twelve-year-old neighbor boy who asked, "Can you come out & play with us?"

Once I realized I wasn't being punked as part of a boyhood dare or cruel trick, I was out throwing a football with the future.

to Charlie & Tommy, complete with their half-sized British accents...

to Miles...all too cocky for his pre-teen body...

& to neighbor Brian, the humble one, yet brave enough to assault the castle wall of the big college hermit...

Before reaching their summer curfew lined out by "mum," I got too tired & too blind to see the ball in the darkening sky.

But, for half of a day's hour, I [re]lived what it must have been like to grow up on a flat, friendly suburban street.

& "we'll probably be out here tomorrow," the other Brian shouted as I reached the porch.

I hold no reason to be locked inside.

Comiendo en las casas desnudas

2008-07-03T13:40:00.000-07:00

"Today it's you. Next time it could be me," Ramiro said. "That's how it is, no?"

I've learned more from a plumber in the last eight weeks than I have from some of my college professors.

I sat with legs crossed on the concrete slab that is still months away from being clothed with carpet. My boots have grown layers of dust & fluorescent paint, & I didn't realize that I had been glued to the same pair of shorts for three days.

A mis amigos, no les importaba. They offered me tortillas, carne, chicharrones, y jalepeños until my stomach hurt & los ojos quemaron.

Too glad to have shared a farewell feast with one-time strangers.

Hercules & a hog-nosed snake

2008-06-25T15:33:00.000-07:00

I haven't been able to understand why it is that we need locks & keys & passwords for so many things.

I know, I know, I know...

Overdue for a Donut

2008-06-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

& nothing tastes sweeter than an overpriced glazed twirl bar, knowing that it was prepared & delivered specifically for you.

Can I stop trying to measure in quarters & dimes the unmatchable worth of a boomerang breakfast?

May the Fire of Her Devotion Light Their Way

2008-05-22T16:16:00.000-07:00

"You know, I'm not as young as I used to be," was her confession. "By the second time you throw the ball, I'm all tuckered out."

I chuckled.

"But I'll tell you what," she offered with a shrug, "While you push that lawnmower, I'll graze on some of the longer pieces to save you some time."

A Tape

2008-05-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

I, with my filthy Wolverine boots & paint-stained jeans, heard the lunch truck honk its horn.

"Lunch," an equally ragged man nodded. "You take lunch now," was either a question or a command.

I tried to describe my recent Eggo waffle & future turkey sandwich, & I believe he understood that I would wait.

He made a bench out of scrap wood & removed the aluminum foil from the burrito his wife had packed him. We took turns asking questions, each butchering the other's native language.

& oh! the sawdust...

Pages we are years from learning

2008-05-01T12:27:00.000-07:00

& disappearing with the wind, I think I'm more jealous than I ought.

But why must I be caged to count coins while you knock down pins with tossing, flowing hair?

We have thumbed through half a calendar, with more pages turning as we speak.

A Chase

2008-04-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

Well, tonight I just sat down at my desk and forty-three minutes later I hadn't done a [darn] thing.

Four minutes later, I have somehow folded a pink piece of construction paper into six manageable rectangles.

åµ ˆ †˙å† ∂´ßπå®å†´¿

Alive in the World

2008-04-06T21:19:00.000-07:00

Have I grown past the point at which it's excusable to fall asleep in church?

We dispute.

Write me into your story:

Between You & me, I am quite unworthy to keep watch with you.

& "if You should choose so, I'm sure one day I'll feel it," but for now may I express blue-collar exhaustion?

I know full well that none of this is normal, but is any of it even real?

"I want to stand and be counted."

For fear that You might grant it, I hesitate to ask,

May I [hope]fully live ?

Same Face!

2008-03-06T23:05:00.000-08:00

You—

It was really good to see You [again] this morning.

I like to look at Your face because, as of late, it has been glowing.

& I enjoy it, perhaps because it is a mirror's reflection of my own. But I'm a half-step behind on the glint.

But do You not worry, for what ever joy You might have found, it may only be weeks before I find it for myself.

Keep up the good work, while I watch from a [relative's] distance.

Do not let me be afraid of Your You, & do You not grow disinterested in my me.

—Me

Re-Treat

2008-02-15T13:56:00.000-08:00

Giver,

Do you remember when I ran away from every thing?

I tried reading Your Words.

I tried singing Your songs.

I tried listening for Your voice.

But do you remember? For all my lofty hopes, all I had to show was a midmorning nap in the sand above Your breakers.

"I don't mind," You tell me,

& I'm starting to believe You.

Along the Paso Robles

2008-02-05T00:39:00.001-08:00

As I remember it,

I walked hands in pockets to the front door, opting to press the bell instead of rapping frozen knuckles against the wood.

& we rummaged in the garage, finding no thing perfectly useful for our noble venture.

So we walked, instead, two lost boys meandering through comfortable affluence.

& "it's probably... some old man... never wanted to grow up... tree house..." I said

At this, of course, he giggled.

Insofar as one helps the other to see new things [or maybe just old things in a new way?], we are an unusual duo.

While, "Babysitter?" she asked. Or, "Helper?"

But simply, "Friend," I suggested, and his echo confirmed my Joy.

Tollhouse & The Old Sierras

2008-01-27T17:17:00.000-08:00

Usually the story is best told by my father.

I don't remember why we were at the lake.

Surely, the sandy edges were frozen over, as snow covered the splintery steps of the marina.

For whatever reason, a Papa bear & his Young were sleeping the night in the woods.

Streetside at a pay phone, a Papa shared words with a Mama, while the Young kicked baby flakes into the icy curb.

& as cordial sentences were uttered, & weighty plans being made, the Young slyly eyed a snowy step wall.

& before a Papa could prevent the unpreventable, the Young ploughed his head into the cold bank.

& they all smiled, too.

It's later than it seems

2008-01-09T14:29:00.000-08:00

We could a learn a thing or two from morning trips to the grocer's.

We could read las instrucciones en español if we wanted.

We could bring our umbrella if the weatherman advised.

Besides, if it doesn't rain, we could just leave it in the car.

We could be kind enough to swipe our club card for another.

But what if, while we argue over Mrs. Butterworth or Aunt Jemima, a favourite song pushes through the ceiling?

We'll make sure you're back in time for chapel.

A Christmas Feast & The Aftermath

2007-12-25T14:26:00.000-08:00

We've all been there before. You know, trapped between bony ankles, secured as though by a harness. Quite immovable.

& eye level with knobby knees, & covered by a wooden canopy, complete with the clanking of forks overhead.

& later, rotating his head back over a shoulder, he asks of me, with jeans in a heap on the tile, "is all the poop off my bottom?"

Yes. Flushes & washes hands.

Then the thought: are we more scared of asking or of being asked?

This, a Messy Christmas.

"Las Personas son la Ciudad" II

2007-12-16T16:21:00.001-08:00

What attribution can be made for my irritation?

But I wasn't irritated at all. It actually made me smile a little bit.

A goatee-wearing man angled his minivan into our driveway only to retreat & disappear from whence he came.

Oh, that we would welcome tire marks! & U-turns! & more, on Our piece of the sidewalk.

Staying Hydrated

2007-12-14T01:11:00.000-08:00

There's a sort of secret Handshake around town between those dog owners.

It seems that they always know where to find the Water bowls, & they never have to travel too far between them.

Of course, they are grateful!

& You would be, too, if they continually rinsed out a steel bowl & filled it up in vague anticipation of Your arrival.

The Spirit is Willing

2007-12-05T01:08:00.000-08:00

Maybe it was the mood lighting, but I tried dipping everything in chocolate tonight.

Well, not everything, but at least the things that are normally just fine without cacao drizzlies.

But you don't need to remind me of my lactose-intolerance.

LORD knows I trick myself, each time thinking my body will be able to handle the sweetness.

Intolerant, I only wish a Dirty Dairy cow would approach me before I sip, "From my udders!"

Preamble to Tucker's Grove

2007-12-04T00:08:00.000-08:00

So, he's standing there, red turtleneck & all, swaying & leaning with the music.

His timing was slightly off, that's all. & so he barks, "They're singing the melody wrong."

& barefoot I smirked, with my lips twisted together so as to deny any melody her escape.

Walking Errands

2007-11-27T00:57:00.001-08:00

Yes, he did ask me if it was a saxophone.
I paused; surely he posed a trick question [you can never trust them, you know].
It is, after all, a saxophone.
Listen closely: just as soon as the blaring of the speakers fades from earshot, there's a live street musician also playing the saxophone.
Then can you really discern where the one song ends and the new introduces herself?
It's really something, ain't it?

It is a different song... It has to be?!

"Las Personas son la Ciudad" & The Maiden Voyage

2007-11-22T22:37:00.001-08:00

I have, in fact, returned.
But, no one unrolled a crimson velvet carpet to guide my path to the front door.
& the sushi-filled faces belonged to strangers. But alas, chewing food is easier with the assurance that no one is watching. Am I right?

If I dare to lift the jalousie, the Afternoon Sun willingly finds my bare skin. But when the neighbors drive by, or even look out their own window, things get weird.

"Horses don't live in cities..."

1998-03-23T05:00:00.000-08:00

From the Los Angeles Daily News, back on March 23, 1998, my father spoke these words that have lived on in Hardgrave family infamy. We're not sure exactly what he meant, but if you ever see him, just remind him—"Horses don't live in cities."