My father's dream, 20jul08

My father called me up last week, to tell me about a dream he'd had. My father and I have never spoken of dreams. There were french doors and they opened and Abuelo was there, with his big grin -- we've all got it really it's the mark of my family name really -- and holding a little boy's hand, he turned to my father and says "mira que se parece a ti cabezon". My father was too shocked to say anything. Yesterday was all hectic and doctors and driving but in the end, everything was OK, and we got to hear the heartbeat again. tuntun-tuntun-tunun

Life is beautiful.

In my next life I will be a stingray

you promised me poems.

Another year, and it gets further away and it hurts less, I guess. Eventually I will be able to stop feeling it at all. And if there were even the slightest bit of genuine sorry, we could be friends. Such a bitter pill. Last night at the big B, rockin' it with Tai-tai:

me: So I'm sad.
tai-tai: Why?
me: because it's the 4th of July.
tai-tai: So?
me: It's my anniversary for when my drama-llama bullshit happened.
tai-tai: oh.
me: I mean, I bet you don't even remember when the thing with your sister happened.
tai-tai: no, I don't know the day or even the month. I remember where i was and what I was doing.
me: but that's my point. I can't forget, and even if I did, there's fucking fireworks to remind me.
tai-tai: like a party! YAY!

this one's called "god knows, *****"

what do you want
misbegotten whore
your every word like something fetid
another abortion
scraped from the drooling maw of your cunt-mouth
you never tire
of hurting the ones around you
you set the hooks deep, god knows
god knows
you played the victim so often
you forgot it was a part
the world doesn't owe you,
god knows.

I really must talk to Aik about getting him to drum, if only for just this song.

dream 27jun08

apt. complex, i have been here before, in dreams, it feels like the one where that blonde curly haired chick eden dated for like 2 weeks (the one with the gay best friend) lived, with a shadow that was shaped like null set symbols [␀] and eden is there and we're going somwhere else and there are other people, a group, we're going to a party or just to have fun at the beach or something and then the complex is his folks' place but they don't live there anymore, just ed and he finally got all his stuff from V and the group i'm with stays outside and i walk in and ed always hates that but fuck there's my fucking flanger pedal! and i look for the distortion pedal but cannot find it and i'm cold and cold and wake up uncovered.

Moving along

So I finally got around to scanning some old photos, including this one of good ol' Randall P. Jones. The man certainly enjoyed his beanie propeller hat and could carry it with a certain panache. Need to send copies of related photos to interested parties, but Randy's gone, so I figured what the hell.

words of advice for young people

I just sneezed. I was eating potato salad. If you have never tried to sneeze while chewing potato salad, I recommend that you avoid finding out what this is like. I now have potato salad in my sinuses.

the vultures are gone and will never return

Laural's away message today was a link to CASSETTE FROM MY EX which is now the 2nd or third time I'd heard about the site. And so I finally clicked it. It's like an aural post-secret, kindasorta. I am both terrified and hoping that a mix of mine winds up there, but the odds are kinda low. Obladi.

I've had a copy of Jah Wobble's Invaders of the Heart's "Take Me To God" for about 5 years. Picked it up used, 5 bucks or so. I listen to it maybe once a year, which on average is kinda high actually. It's like techno world music that your reggae dub DJ friend mixed for you. Here's a song from the album:



Anyway, I saw a used copy again and picked it up for a friend and in the process also picked up a used copy of Jah Wobble's 30 Hz collection and it is indescribably good. How he does that with his fingers is beyond me. Listening to his basslines makes me want to play the bass forever and forget about the guitar. And you gotta give props to a man who quit the music business out of disdain and keeps dropping out of successful bands when they start sucking.

Jah Wobble (and Sinead O'Connor and Boy George) interviewed: http://youtube.com/watch?v=N425-qsKGQ8

the original obscenity

d 5
a ..0
e ....4 5 000

D A 0055xx

Reading pratchett, he does go on about humanism and what humanity means. One of my favorite things he's ever said (or written) is about how all sin boils down to treating people as things. Rape, murder, theft -- they all boil down to "you're not a person, you're just another thing I can use to get what I want".

who's that shouting? by and by...

Another year coming around. I find myself re-evaluating all the shit, good and bad, come my way. I'm doing OK, I guess. There are some causes for sadness, but overall, I can't complain too hard, really. I enjoy my new job, and despite the death of Vic (or maybe because of?) I am learning more and doing different things, which is something I wanted when I left the old joint. Had Indian for lunch earlier with the dudes from Ye Olde Jobbe and they are in misery full-force. Which sucks. That whole environment is like a kid trying too hard; they want to be a business/enterprise instead of educational/medical -- or maybe they think they should be? -- and they're just stressing the wrong things. Be a hardass about what you expect, don't be a hardass about vanity or chain of command or other bullshit pipe dreams about how to show that the proverbial dick is bigger than the other dudes'. On the bright side, in about 5 to 10 years time, it's going to be SUCH a premier environment (reputation-wise, for their care and tech etc...workwise, meh...too soon to say and things are too fast-moving to be able to pin down.) Relationship stuff's worked out, really. Interpersonal drama-llama visits have been avoided. Old friends come back, Eden's back and I will hopefully soonish find myself making some music with Bunny. I find myself thinking of Cass, wondering if she's doing OK. My phone calls and emails to her are infrequent and I think awkward for her. I'm hoping this is why she doesn't reply to emails. I switched back to winamp for playing music (itunes for the ipod still, but winamp is still awesomer) and the queen cover comes up at the oddest fucking moments. Still, she was awesome and that was aside from having the most amazing tits ever. Skeeter's still pissed at me, but since she won't answer or pick up, I just leave "wishing you the best" messages every 6 months or so. Mils is here today and gone tomorrow, back with the ex she always will have a spot for, which is kinda good, really. Sun's comin' from the tx, and i will be going to tx come august and maybe san fran or canada in the winter? I dunno. The old man's gonna have multiple surgeries done at once but is putting it off until my sister gives birth, I guess in case he dies. I try not to think about it. Maybe let the vacousness of television numb it down; dr who greys anatomy dexter futurama cooking shows. Some days it's just so much and some days you just relish in jumping into the fray, you know?

The skyline was beautiful on fire, all twisted metal stretching upwards, everything washed in a thin orange haze.

Driving home from work at 9am (long story, involves a broken TV and a TV repairman), and the sky to the west is grey, dull gun metal grey, from skyline to heaven and...http://www.osei.noaa.gov/Events/Fires/US_Southeast/2008/FSHSsoutheast134_G12.jpg, http://www.cbc.ca/world/story/2008/05/13/florida-fire.html
, http://www.miamiherald.com/569/story/531133.html

Well, fucking hell.

It honestly was beautifully done...

Today I was told that I am part of the problem. Thanks, Little Trouble Girl.

Got my mom a digital camera and made her dinner, camera was a smashing success and I am looking forward to many pictures of her dog, plants, buddhist temple and associated friends as well as family i don't know. Dinner was also a smashing success -- for her birthday I also made her dinner, which was my Porkchops Of The Gods except I accidentally threw in a bit too much hot pepper flakes, so she was kinda gun-shy about me cooking again. But, as I mentioned, I apparently have redeemed myself with: Keema

1 lb ground beef
2 bags peas, ~1000grams total
2 onions, diced
4-8 cloves of garlic, minced or sliced
1/4 of a very large tomato (or 1 small tomato) diced
1 jalapeño, seeded, minced
1 large heaping spoonful of curry powder
1 tsp garam marsala
1 tsp red curry powder
1 tsp red pepper
small bunch cilatro, chopped
1 spoonful ground ginger (or ginger paste, whatever)
1 tsp of olive oil
about a cup of water

oil a large pan, drop the onions into medium-low heat, toss in the garlic after a minute or two (ie, let the onions take a bit more heat than the garlic -- garlic burns easier), toss in the tomato and jalapeño and ping everything with salt to sweat it. Once the onions are shiny but not translucent, get 'em off the heat and onto a plate. Dump the meat in, when it's getting towards brown, break it up and toss in the garam marsala, red curry and pepper flakes, then dump in the peas in. Stir in the water and let it simmer until the water evaporates out and add a bit more. Bring the onion mixture back in and toss in the ginger, half the cilantro while holding the other half as garnish. Let simmer, stirring to keep it from sticking, until the water's evaporated again, say about 20-30 minutes total (you're really waiting for the peas to cook and take the flavor of the rest of the juices in the pot).

Serve over rice, cous-cous or as I did, with a side of pan-seared flatbread and tzatziki, a tomato salad (got the rest of the hugegantic tomato and sliced it, salted it and balsamic-vinegared-it. For jollies I threw in mushroom gnocci as a side, but that was less than stellar with the mom. Protip: mixing the keema with the tzaziki made pure happiness happen in your mouth, I recommend it.

asides: portishead's new album was good so I bought it. Listened to Bill Frissel's "Gone, Just Like A Train" and it still is amazing. Modest Mouse in the car = rock out. Eden's a jerk, I must steal his hat again.

dream 9may2008

1st dream, 630am: house flooding.

2nd dream, 1130am: first lucid dream in like, 13 years. First I was going down coral way in an office chair, kicking my way down coral way and each kick pushed me waaaaaay farther than it should have, and then on 12th but not really I hang a left and I realize it's Valentine's Day and I don't give a fuck and am laughing and rolling down the street and then the sidewalk and then young punks in love and they are laughing and mocking me and I realize the chair thing is fucking stupid but wait that means this is a dream so I stop kicking and just will myself forward and then when that works just consciously tumble out of the chair forward and fly, but very slow, like flying through molasses and only a foot off the ground. finally I get traction and can kick it fast and hard and I realize I could be getting laid right here and now in my lucid dream, the phone rings and wakes me. cockblocked!