Pacific Ocean

Good gravy I love that beach

Shouldn’t have gotten so drunk last night

Fuck the morning is beautiful

Coffee and watching the waves

Start walking up the coast

Who needs GPS screw it

Pepper and Sublime pumping

It’s warm today

keep walking

Stop here for a taco and Corona

This dudes chill as hell

Love these vibes

Keep walking

Never felt so alive

Almost there

I think

Go for a swim.

I’ll be back.

 

Saturday Night

Saturday Nights have a certain vibe

Even when you’re 6 years old

I’m fast asleep

So is my sister

Wake up

Dad?

Come on let’s go to the living room, hurry

Whats going on

It’s so late

Close to midnight

This is unheard of

Dad has popcorn

The TV is on

Oh I see!

Here comes Hulk Hogan!

Saturday Night Main event

The energy

The drama

The oil

The fun

The popcorn

The memories

The love

Thanks dad.

 

 

Paper Boy

Paper Boy

I must have been 13 or 14. Kind of a scrawny kid too, I could have passed for 11.

I had a paper route though. This was helpful.

I could buy clothes and rent Nintendo games.

Really whatever I wanted.

Work Pays.

There is a lesson in there.

I would always pick up my papers that I was to deliver at one of my customers house.

The driver wouldn’t drop the papers at my house because I was outside his zone.

My customer got a free subscription in exchange for letting me use her porch.

It was on this porch I would read the paper before I started my route.

One of the perks.

I loved football.

I would play by myself if I had to.

Throw it up run, under it, TOUCHDOWN SEAHAWKS!!

The Seahawks.

They are moving to Los Angeles.

Fuck.

I grew up watching the Seahwaks.

My dad would hand me some crinkled bills and change.

“Son ride your bike over to Safeway and get us some candy and chips for the Seahawks game”.

Ok dad.

I hope they win.

That was gonna go away.

I’m beginning to realize life is a prick.

It’s cold on the route today.

Ok I’m at the porch.

Flip to the sports page, then get this over with.

Headline: PAUL ALLEN Buys Seahawks.

“The Blazers owner?”

We get to keep the Seahawks.

I’m 34 now.

We did good.

Thank you Paul.

Go Hawks.

The Blob

I remember watching a movie when I was about 8 years old

Sitting on the living room floor

It was a Saturday afternoon and it was one of those cheesy SCI-FI Films

It was called “The Blob”

This slimy blob  just sort of oozed through the city assimilating anything in its path

It would eventually threaten to swallow up the whole town

If memory serves, a group of teenagers blew it up or burned it

Something like that

Got me thinking

It’s kind of like our Dictator

We have a dictator?

Donald Trump?

No it’s not the Donald

I almost said it was the media

But thats just a part of the Blob

It’s also the Internet, Facebook, T.V. Snapchat , Hollywood, Celebs

Celebs are the fucking worst. Like preachy evil droids

Basically anything that can burrow into your psyche

Collectively these things are The Blob

The Blob is our dictator

People are scared shitless of the Blob

Say the wrong thing

It doesn’t matter if you pledged allegiance to the Blob

You shouldn’t have worn that shirt

Blob has spoken

Just fucking try the Blob

No Mercy

It will swallow you into it’s mass until you are muck

Somebody better slow this thing down

Maybe a couple of greasers

Just like I saw on TV

Breakfast

Breakfast

How are your Hands feeling

Arthritis

But you can cook

I’ll help

“Now boil the potatoes”

In the skillet

Cast Iron

Grandma is guiding me

Season the hash browns

Eggs

The kitchen

Aroma

She is so kind

Never a cross word in my presence

Bacon sizzles

We save the grease

We’re talking

Thats the best

I fill her cup with coffee

Just a half cup

Toast is last

Time to eat

“You’re a good eater”

The cats are so funny

She feeds them a bite of egg

They love her

“you did such a good job”

Thanks grandma

I miss you

I’m always thinking of you

The Place

 

The Landscape was arid

The landscape was hot

He walked

The sun seared down

Devoid of rest

How did I find this place

What arteries of life brought me to my present setting

I miss the ocean

I miss the green

I miss the cool breeze

I feel hot

I feel morose

There ahead

I see

A solitary garden

Three small trees

shades of green and brown

Go to it

A sliver of solitude

Comfort

Sit

Revel in this moment

I will cherish this place

These 3 trees

Beauty

A Thanksgiving Story

I often roll my eyes when I see someone post about their good deed or act of charity. It illuminates in my minds eye a persons need to broadcast their perceived kind behavior .In reality it is  a narcissistic attention grab. It is especially pervasive in the Hollywood celebrity culture. Of course, sheepish masses willingly flock to laud them with praise and electronic adulation.

Naturally, when I feel the desire to do something kind for another human being, I remind myself that there is no need to share it with those who are kind enough to follow my online persona. On this day though, I would like to share with you an occasion in which changed me in a subtle but profound way.

This was Thanksgiving, circa 2015. I had a pretty provocative and gratifying day lined up for a 31 year old single dude living in North Chicago. I had just finished a fairly rigorous workout session so that I could warm up for the day. The plan was as follows; head over to Jewel Osco ( my nearest grocery store ) for some thanksgiving groceries. It should be noted that because this was a special day I would spare no expense.. Vodka, bread, New York Strip Steaks, wine, shrimp and more were tossed into my cart with no regard for expense. I was feeling the joy. The joy was going to get better too, as soon as Hannah, my Chinese college professor girlfriend with an ungodly sexy body and smile showed up at my house with home made dumplings. The whipping snow and rain mix that thrust itself upon chicago-land could not dampen my upbeat and slightly arrogant disposition.

As cavalier as i was towards my grocery purchases I was a hawk for the complimentary coffee that resided in the bakery section. As i ambled over with my cart to collect my freebie cup of coffee, I realized there was a potential issue. A young black man about my age was coaxing the last drops out of the pot. I soon could see that we were both assed out on free coffee. He looked up as I was hovering beside him and our eyes met locked in common ground. His eyes communicated a resigned realization that the coffee was gone and any small glimpse of satisfaction said coffee would bring, also had vacated itself from our grasp. I was dismayed and we shared a split second of solidarity. Our dismay however, could not have been more different in terms of impact. My coffee seeking peer was dressed in a long tattered trench coat, an old pair of grey khakis and layers of soiled sweaters. His shoes were wrapped in duct tape and cloth, a makeshift barricade to the biting and lethal cold that Chicago indiscriminately doled out to its inhabitants. I watched as he carefully placed his paper cup back into his backpack and zipped it up, presumably for later use. I followed him with my eyes as he made his way towards the automatic sliding doors and back into the bitter cold streets.

I had seen this guy before. I was a regular on this block as it was in the center of my neighborhood. He never struck me as a guy with his hand out and come to think about it, I had never heard or seen him open his mouth. He was a guy who walked with his head down and dragged his possessions in tow. he was homeless and in dire straights. Beyond that I knew nothing about him. On the affluent Southport Avenue ( the setting of this story) vagrants round these parts were not always as unassuming. Many were out with their signs and cups, chirping at passers on by for a donation. But this was not the case with this individual who had me looking at my own cart and realizing how thankful I was. I would checkout for about 150 bucks. I had decadence in my future. A relaxing day of boozy eating, indulgence and love making awaited me. I mused in my mind about what his Thanksgiving Holiday had in store for him. I concluded that his day had little to look forward to. For him, survival would be a challenge, let alone having thanksgiving meal. As I checked out with my goods I peered out into the wintery setting through the picture windows that lined the front of the grocery store. I could see my peer dragging a garbage bag and backpack towards the intersection of Addison and southport.  I felt pain for this man.

“Find everything alright”? Asked the cashier who was certainly counting down until closing time, so she could be in the presence of her loved ones on this special day.

“ yeah do you guys give cash back”? I asked.

“Up to 60 dollars” she recited without looking up from the register.

“Ok i need 60 please”

As I grabbed my plastic bags in a vice grip so as not to have to push a cart in the snow I jogged up the sidewalk towards my friend, grocery bags jostling in my grasp. My 60 dollars was secured in my palm, 3 crisp 20 dollar bills folded in half on top of each other. The mid day snow and wind whipped in my face. I came upon my friend.

“ excuse me “

He turned with a slightly blank yet acknowledging look.

“ I think you dropped this” I held the cash to him. He looked in my eyes the confusion in his gaze soon turned to recognition.

“Thank you” he murmured”

“Happy Thanksgiving”

I knew the 60$ was not going to turn his life around but I knew it would vastly improve his situation on this day.

I turned around and walked towards my car. Glancing back, I see my friend paused studying his gift. My eyes started to water. The wind began to calm.