Balance II

- "It is not living that matters, but living rightly. I shall never alter my ways, even if I have to die many times.” He communicated.

(Roll my eyes)

- “OK, let me bounce off a few examples of moral dilemmas, and how you would confront these. I read an article in Time Magazine - a weekly read - on what makes man, good or bad. So they presented this scenario: “You are with a group of people hiding from enemy soldiers, who would probably kill you, and you are holding a baby in your arms. Would you smother the baby who starts crying, perhaps until the babe could breathe no more, or risk the lives of all in the group?”

- “It’s good to employ your time in improving yourself by other men's writings so that you shall come easily by what others have labored hard for. In respect to the dilemma, I would have to study in-depth the odds, in order to formulate a plan of attack. Perhaps use the element of surprise to subdue the enemy, depending on their quantity. He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy; though one must consider that justice serves by maximizing the greatest happiness for the greatest numbers. What would you do?”

- “I think I would die either way. I would choose not to suffocate my baby. If I were the mother in this case, likely I would be lactating; I would attempt to subdue the babe with suckling. On the other hand, if the soldiers do find us and don’t kill us, but simply incarcerate us, the vindictive prisoners in retaliation would kill me. Yet, I am biased in my choice, as my maternal instincts would lead me to protect that baby with my life. I am simply a woman.”

- “Woman once made equal to man becomes his superior. As well, it is not right to return an injury, or to do evil to any man, however much we have suffered from him.”

- “Hey, that’s nice! You should come to the N.O.W conventions as a guest speaker. Anyway, here’s another moral dilemma. In my time, there is considerable intolerance towards people who immigrate without legal admittance, in order to survive. It’s the survival mechanism. Anyway, once I swore to the government, that I would not aid an undocumented person. If I were to marry one such vulnerable person to save him from prosecution, and possibly death, as hundreds die annually to get there, would this not ascribe to the Highest authority which is omnipotent, and above the government of man?”

- “I love and honor man, but I must serve God. I believe no greater good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God. My mission was to persuade old and young alike to care about the greatest improvement, of the soul. I was really too honest a man to be a politician and live. As far as what you should do, seek for the true knowledge and wisdom which lays buried deep within your soul. To find yourself, think for yourself - know thyself.”

- “Speaking of love Socrates, there is a lot of hostility towards women from men, and vice versa to tell the truth. What is your take on love?”

- “From the deepest desires often comes the deadliest hate; call no man unhappy until he is married. The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear. Wisdom begins in wonder; I prayed to God that I may be beautiful within, for Beauty is a short-lived tyranny.

My advice to you is get married: if you find a good wife or husband you'll be happy; if not, you'll become a philosopher… and that is a good thing for any man. As to marriage or celibacy, let a man take which course he will, he will be sure to repent.”

- “Gee thanks for the positive outlook Socrates, any other final words of wisdom before I leave?”

- “Worthless people live only to eat and drink; people of worth eat and drink only to live. Beware the barrenness of a busy life, and most important: The unexamined life, is not worth living."

.

That is when I woke up.

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Painting: Jacques Louis David's 1787 "The Death of Socrates"

Balance

Oh, uh…it’s happening again. I feel myself deploying from my physical form, and in an instant, I find myself in a beautiful park. This is flush with delicate flowers in full boom, of vibrant colors, lush assortment, and intoxicating scents. The massive trees dance to the rhythm of the breeze.

I walk for a while, until I come to a bench where there is a man sitting. He is short in stature and of stocky build. He seems kind, as he focuses his steady gaze upon me.

I smile, and say hello. He greets me with a smile, but he does not talk to me; he seems to communicate telepathically. I know what he means, but he does not utter a word. This is weird, am I dreaming this?

So I try the same method, I am eloquent with my eyes, expressions, hands, and I present my questions in thought form.

- “Where am I, and who are you?” I think.

.
- “You are merely visiting here, and I am called Socrates.”

- “Bull shit…wait! You mean you are that philosopher from 470 B.C.? If so, I have always had a question for you. If you loved Truth so much, why did you drink yourself the poison which killed you, knowing full well that the sentencing was unjust; and that you would make your wife a widow, and your children fatherless?

- “The real danger in life is not death, but in living an evil life.”

- “But…you knew you did nothing wrong, and the death sentence was given due to the vindictive minds of your accusers, and the outrage by your condemners by what they perceived to be arrogance on your part. My point is, you did not serve justice and Truth by willingly drinking of the poison, for those who judged you were unjust!”

-“I was condemned to suffer the penalty of death, and my accusers; they too, went their ways condemned by the truth, to suffer the penalty of wickedness and wrong. No evil can happen to a good man either in life, or after death. I saw that to die and be released was better for me. Some regarded this as fate; I think it was as it should have been.”

-“ If it was fated that you die due to the maliciousness of those who grew to hate you, or thought of you as a threat to the state, and you wished to live and die by your principles... that’s cool. You could have bravely stood by to be beheaded…sorry, that sounds awful, my point is: NOT by your own hand! You would have been vindicated in the afterlife, and made whole again…etc, but you would not have been an active participant in that repugnant game of abuse of power. You would therefore, have stood steadfast by Truth and justice.

- “I had a mission which I would not forsake, even to save my life.”

- “The problem Socrates, this type of thing sets precedence for the purity of Truth to be sullied, violated, deformed, by those in power. Those in power are probably in short supply of true Wisdom, since it may cause conflicts of interest. Throughout history the corruption of power has sacrificed innocent souls. Even now, there are so many people incarcerated due to Machiavellian plots, false accusations, and only after advances of technology are some found innocent thanks to DNA proof.”

To be continued.

Wishes

I wish this holiday season, I was the official greeter at the mall.
Yet I would not want to offer a generic greeting, and a strained smile.

I would greet people, with hugs galore!

I'd offer a genuine welcome, apart from the norm. To those, whom I perceived needed one, I would greet with a warm embrace, a tender kiss on the cheek, or a wink as they ambled along. (No, I would not try to pick pocket their wallets.).

When someone you highly esteem goes through a rough spot, I feel it is BS to attempt the automatic response: “I’m sorry, I know how you feel.” Unless you are that person, you don't.

I wish I would say nothing,and simply hold his hand, and offer a therapeutic, healing massage. Just a soothing rub down.

I wish I could take stray dogs into my home.

I wish I could give shelter to homeless women, adrift on their own.

I wish I could always stop to give rides to strangers sitting at the bus stop, on a late night, frigid cold.

I wish I could marry a day laborer, so he can get his legal residency status, and be not afraid of what lies beyond.

I wish I could be a hospice volunteer (I am looking into it), and hold the hand of whom is making the transition. I'd tell he or she that: “It is O.K; there’s nothing to be afraid of. There will be no more pain, no more suffering, and your spirit will never perish.” This as they face the unknown.

I wish I could join a stranger eating alone on Christmas day, at a Denny’s counter, and perhaps a new friendship may be born.

I wish I could make those broken, whole once more.

I wish I could volunteer at a retirement home, and interview the characters, or those so alone in their twilight years. I would write a mini biography of each, their quotes, and thoughts, because each life matters. We all have a story to tell, and they would know in memory they will live on.

Holidays are particularly tough. Those evoke vivid memories of times past, when the song: “Please Come Home for Christmas” simply does not apply. There are billions of us, yet we are so alone.

This e-mail that someone sent me, did put me in a funk. Yet, I am the eternal optimist and know that better things will come his way. I wish the above, but you can see it would be too dangerous for me to lose myself in the plight of others; I am much too sensitive. Do know, I wish it would be so.

Just recalled a quote I read somewhere once: “The finest steel, has to go through the hottest fire.”

Rant

So I was soaking up on the current events (for free), at the Barnes and Noble on Ventura Blvd., when all mayhem ensued. I was forced to pause my reading to look for the source of the stampede. The fury and urgency of which, resembled the annual bull run in Pamplona, Spain.

About thirty plus photographers were on the heels of a famous pop star, as she walked through out the book store. It was actually disconcerting, for the scene looked like a fox hunt, all the while they chanted: “We love you B******!” It got so scary, that she ran into an office, to hide, while the attendant of the book store yelled at those photographers; “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! LEAVE HER ALONE!”

I turned to the lady sitting next to me and mentioned that it was simply awful how those men hounded that celebrity.
She answered with: “She looks for it. Why does she come out here if she doesn’t want to be photographed? This people are simply doing their job, they have to feed their families.”

I was horrified by her myopic view of things. It’s the principle of the matter! No one should have to be afraid to simply do a mundane task as getting a book.
Now she attempted to humanize unscrupulous, soulless henchmen by saying they were simply doing their job? Those people without morals, ethics, and corrupted by power throughout time…simply needed to procure milk and diapers?

Now, usually I let someone talk, so they can tighten the noose themselves. I also allow them to talk so I can synthesize their stance, and based on that, refute it point by point , by utilizing logic.

If the person is illogical, or I find I have weak material to work with, I will appeal to his or her emotions. If that fails, the last recourse is crying, or in extreme cases - my frying pan. (The latter, to be used only in extreme cases, for fear of losing credibility if over used).

It was not worth my effort to rationalize with this woman. The celebrity in question, had so much negative press, that it prejudiced this woman’s thinking. Forgetting for a moment, that this girl under the flash and glamour, is simply a human being, and worthy of respect.

It was time for me to get some dinner, so I put the books and magazines back in their proper place. The photographers were scattered all over the place, bidding their time to attack, like vultures.

I passed by one who smiled at me, while pretending to read a book. I bestowed on him my patented ‘Fuck You’ face. I’m sure this guy would offer a two for one sale on ebay - his own mother and Jesus Christ - for a scoop.

I left, not knowing, nor caring how things turned out. As I was leaving, I saw four police cars arriving.

My second rant is about a bill board I saw this evening on Sunset Blvd. In bold letters for the Video Game Awards, read: “GAMES YES, WAR NO.”

The hypocrisy of it all. The very same video games which have desensitized children to violence, glamorizing the armed forces and killing, while inducing obesity on a large scale in kids, due to inactivity.

It would be redundant to word my sentiments. It can be summed in one word: Immoral.

A Good Life

What is this power you hold over me?
It is as if I were not free

There is a fine line Before and After you
Onetime I was contained, now only disposed

this is a sign I am enslaved by my passion...

as I pine for you
I wonder sometimes if it is mere infatuation, obsession, or desire for procreation
Or did you cleverly instill a conditioned response in me

Before your touch I am subdued; after, I am lewd
I disrobe of my will, my inhibitions, my dress
I hold forth my breasts
I morph from a woman, to more of a beast
Or am I simply closer to Eve?

Who is this woman so wanton, so greedy for your touch
Your lips bring forth the nourishment I need, provocative as a ripe mango,
I feed from its tender flesh voluptuously, while my tongue dances to capture the last drop.

I open myself to you, like petals of a rose in full bloom, awash with morning dew
A rose eager to be caressed, and inebriate with her scent

I have the notion that this potion fuels your passion

When I am old and decrepit, my dried, wrinkly skin, only a shadow of its former splendor...
I will warm my cold nights by the fire...

to relive in the reflection of the flames...

the times we generated heat ourselves

to find I feel no regrets.

And when it’s time to part, and my eulogy is uttered, It will be said: she was a good person, she lived courageously, a good life.

.
I will laugh and shake the leaves of a tree, for in that moment I will see that I lived a good life made good when I was free, and by those precious and few moments I lived fearlessly and I was bad…

those moments when we became one.

Her Confession

Only one more to go, before it’s my turn; my back aches from standing in line at the confession booth. This place is odd in the sense that the confessional is in a secluded place, yet only the priest is hidden inside the booth. The person seeking absolvent of sins kneels outside.

The woman in front of me settled at her spot and commenced her confession. I am involuntarily privy to its contents – innocent bystander, you might say.

By the way she’s dressed, and walks; I figure this will take a while. Oops! Another thing to confess.

- “When was the last time you confessed and came to Mass?” he asked.

.
- “I go almost every week to Mass father, but to confession, a few months, I’ve felt really guilty about coming to confession.”
.

- “Why is that? Tell me, what do you need to confess?”

.

- “I am this close to getting fired, and worst, having problems with the law! I was able on a few occasions to invoice twice customers and over charge them, large amounts. The surplus sum, after the net cost, I would keep for myself. That is, until my supervisor caught me. Now I live a life in hell father! First he only wanted a cut of the action, or else he would turn me in. Now he…he gropes my breasts, he pinches my nipples or my derriere anytime no one is looking. Now he is also pressuring me to fellate him. He says that it's not intercourse, and would not constitute ‘cheating’ on my husband."

(Rolling my eyes)

- “That is terrible! You must simply stop stealing, and leave that place!”

.
- “I know father. It really wouldn't be so bad, if I were attracted to him. Just that, I'm turned off by the plaque adhered to his gums and teeth.

I wish I could leave father, but I have seniority there, and I am up to my eyebrows in debt!

I’m such a shopaholic, that I don’t even mind pushing people out of my way; not even little old ladies. Just last Black Friday, I camped at 1:00 am outside the mega mall. I even spent part of the mortgage payment! I need…I mean, only when it’s a desperate situation, I have done that; only then, I’m forced to play with the numbers.”

.
- “Avarice and senseless consumption are also sins! Get a grip on your spending!”

.

- “I know that father, but at least it’s for gift giving. Not as bad as my Vegas trips. Last time I was there, I even maxed my credit cards. There, is where I met Lenny too.”

.
- “Lenny is your husband?”
.

- “No father, he is the love of my life! We are crazy about each other! I can totally be myself with him. He won’t censor me if I drink, eat, 420, or gamble too much. I feel so free being myself with him!”

.
- “420? What is that? Listen, whatever it is, you must get your life back on track. Your soul and even your liberty are at stake here. Does your husband know of this other guy?”
.

- “No father, my husband works a lot of overtime, and goes a few nights a week to school too.

It’s his fault in a sense. He pays little attention to me, so I am drawn to other temptations; although, I do feel a bit guilty sometimes, when I have sex with both. No! not with each other, I mean with each, with only a few hours in between...on the same bed.”

.
- “Anything else you need to confess?” He asked wearily.

.

- “Well, I will just say that I am a little vindictive father. Last Thanksgiving, I spit into the mashed potatoes. I also mixed a couple of drops of my urine, into my sister-in-law’s cocktail.

I hate that bitch! Oops! Sorry father.”
.

- “Go pray for fifteen minutes. I absolve of your sins!" He concluded exasperated.

I decided to skip my confession; I quietly walked away from that scene. How could I give more grief to the poor priest with my sins as well?

Just Coffee

He pretended to be working avidly at his laptop, while straining to hear the full conversation behind him, at the table where the four women had gathered to drink their lattes after a flurry of kisses and hugs upon greeting.

- “So, who goes first?”
.

- “I will! I have to share that I’m becoming a nun!”
.

- “Do nuns masturbate? Hey stop messing around, you’re an atheist!”
.

- “OK, would only last like two weeks – at the latest without orgasms, but without men? Holy cow, men are nuts! Some guy I've never met simply went berserk! Like I have a license to disperse therapy to this lunatic? At least, I didn’t shave my bush to meet him!”

.
- “Come on Cindy, you could have any guy you wanted, look at you, you are driven, cute, funny, and you could have any man…while I’m bored to tears. It’s like he is pumping for oil, and I am looking at the ceiling wondering what I will wear the next day. I just wish he would get over with it ASAP. Guess I have too many things on my plate, or we have just lost the spark.”

.

- “Sure Carol, I could have any horn dog; guys my age want girls barely legal age. Oh, Oh! Reminds me of a joke. This 58 yr old man leaves his wife. On a note he wrote, I am leaving you for my 18 yr old assistant. Just happens the wife wrote back to him saying: I am leaving You! for my personal trainer, he is 18 yrs old, and Darling, since you are such a brilliant man, do the math. You know that 58 going into 18 are not as many times as 18 going on forever.” (giggles).
.

- “I have to agree with you Cindy, men are psycho! I have this man e-mailing me constantly abusive e-mails. HATEFUL! Is it my fault he hates all women, starting with his mother? Girls, NEVER take a man to your place! It could turn into “Fatal Attraction!”
.

- “Oh come on you guys, don’t be SO negative! I have a crush on someone…haven’t even met him! But he is SO cute, and funny, and …I think if we met, the chemistry might disappear.”

.

- “Listen honey, once he turns psycho on you, you can bet your ass it will. Or a new combustive chemistry may cause an explosion.”

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- “Well, look at us! If we keep bashing men, what is the alternative? Dating 18 year olds? Become sugar mommas? Just on the fast food gig they work at, least we can look forward to free tacos at Taco Bell. Well, that an LOTS of sex!” (Giggles).

.

- “Listen Becky; take off your rose colored glasses. This psycho man, once I told him he needed anger management, later sent me an I’m sorry e-mail. Whatever, I know what he wanted. To play the nice guy for a bit, then get me alone in his apartment, give me some shit, and do me up the ass. I am telling you, once a psycho, always a psycho. I think in the not so distant future, people should have a mini resume, with health status, REAL age, MARITAL status, and of course, income bracket!”
.

- " Cindy, you think because you open your legs, men have to kiss you ass? I mean figuratively speaking…you can suck them dry?…again figuratively speaking…of their resources? You are such a self-centered bitch!”
.

- “Are you premenstrual? Don’t even get me started!”

.
- “Cindy, don’t You use that tone with me, I know all your dirty laundry Hun, don’t even get ME started! For all your self-righteousness I know you are calculating to the core, and that you will stop at nothing to further your cause.”
.

- “Don’t be so melodramatic Becky, I choose to set the rules to the game, which is quite different, and if I get something out of it, so what? I empower myself in the process, in the end I look out for No. 1…moi! Why give it away for the illusion of a good time?”
.

- “If that is how you want to rationalize it. Yet, you are merely trading your goodies for fancy gifts, and trips, and fancy meals. What do you have to show for it, if not for the illusion of living beyond your means?”
.

- “Girls! Stop it! I can’t believe you two!” – chimed in Carroll. “Just last Sunday I read on Newsweek on the nascent of the Feminist movement. Did you know it simply started on a lark by a small group of women to protest The Miss America Pageant in 1968? Do you see how far we’ve come since then, for this conversation to even take place? It’s unconceivable! Look around you, women can’t further their cause by sleeping their way to the top anymore, that is not what women have fought arduously against the status quo for so long!”
.

- “I second that!” – said Luisa. “We can’t afford to fall backwards in the process thus far. Not likely I’m going to get a discount for gas, at the gas station by simply flashing my cleavage. Women need to earn as much as men, since we are self-supporting. And you know who’s getting my vote next year.”

(Hi-Fives)

- "Sorry girls" – said Carol. "I am sitting on the fence on that one. I can’t vote for someone just because of gender, I need to be convinced it is the best possible choice."
.

- “Carol Hun, you are looking at History in the making!" – said Luisa. "Do you have idea of the full impact of this decision? It is the pinnacle of breaking the proverbial glass ceiling of the highest office in the Western Hemisphere, of the most powerful nation in the world! Think what this will do to motive women, little girls, those young women thinking of skipping college to work for Wal-Mart and making babies and falling into the entrapment of the Welfare system!”
.

- “Luisa, I do get this would be a historic event, but I have to arrive to my decision rationally, not based on romantic notions.”
.

- “Carol, you want rational? How about you compare the current situation, the weakened dollar, war, and really too many other factors to mention, with a decade ago, to the late 90’s; this is our chance to get Bill back! Throw that concept in your mental stew.”
.

- “Oh stop getting so passionate about it Luisa. Get laid or something – speaking of which…if you want to get laid why don’t you join us in a ménage a trois? Larry has been pestering me about “spicing up our sex life.” I love you guys; I would only share him with my best friends. Besides, I only have the inclination at the end of the day, to sit on his face. You can ride him, what do you say?”
.
- “Sorry Carol, I like Larry, but not that much. Besides I really love you like a sister, and imagining slurping your kitty, it’s just… incestuous! I’m sure that smashing cunts together to create friction, while we attempt to lick his lollipop simultaneously, would be a great little work out. I think your best alternative is to go to the central market in Downtown Los Angeles - the one on Broadway and 3rd - and get some Maca. It is a natural food supplement from Peru. It’s like Viagra for women, and then fuck your hubby proper, and with gusto!”
.
He tried to avoid getting perturbed by the eavesdropping, yet he felt the stirrings of an erection, and his breathing became irregular. He took off his jacket to place it over his lap.
.
- “Well! Anyone else interested in the ménage trois? I need to delegate my duties.”
.

- “Sorry Carol, I intend to find loving tender romance, even if I have to light candles to St. Anthony. Sharing a taken man is not my idea of that, not like there are shortages of eligible men. Besides, I think marriages should come with a five year termination clause. This to keep people on their toes, and not take their partner for granted.”
.

- “Sane men you might consider, of those there is scarcity.” – said Cindy.
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- “It’s the dynamics of economics, that of supply and demand” – said Carol. “You might just have to move to Alaska or Australia to find more demand for women, therefore more leverage.”
.
Turning around, Cindy gathered all the women in a small circle to whisper something inaudible to his ears, then an eruption of collective laughter ensued.

They got up from the table to clear the cups, and napkins, and proceeded to leave.
As they were leaving, a balled napkin with a telephone number landed on his keyboard.

Free Lunch II

Jenny had lots to be thankful for that Thanksgiving Day. She had filled up her tank of gas to the limit; and she also bought some needed essentials. The next day, she took the kids to a matinee to see: “The Bee Movie,“ and even splurged on Happy Meals afterwards.
She also saved $20 for her Christmas fund; that would go far at the local thrift shop.

There was no room for pride. She needed to be effective in making ends meet. The worrying of covering those, robbed her of precious sleep. She needed to be able to function as mom, dad, and perform her very physical job as well.
She called Sandra the following Monday, which turned into a bi-weekly assistant position, as she already had a regular cleaning staff.

Her perception that Sandra was so generous with her, perhaps because she needed a reflection to show off to, and admire her status in life, was not so.
From the outside Sandra has a fabulous life. A very rich husband, and a multi-million dollar home on the West side. Sandra is young and beautiful; she also has lots of prominent friends attending her parties. She would be the exception to the rule, though she would not be considered Sandra’s friend.

- “I wish you had a cell phone Jenny, I wanted to let you know not to come today. I must get you a cell phone soon; please remind me in a few days. “
- “Are you OK Sandra?” Jenny asked genuinely concerned as Sandra looked disheveled, unlike her usual self. She had been obviously crying. Sandra broke down again crying, while she covered her face with her hands.
- “He’s such a shit! A complete asso! I HATE HIM! Sometimes...sometimes, I wish he would die already. He…he was in one his moods yesterday, and he drank too much. He took it out on me again. You wouldn’t know it from knowing him. He is such a good guy; successful…a philanthropist…..what he really is, is a fucking depraved degenerate! There is no such thing as a free lunch Jenny.

If you had any idea of the things he makes me do...disgusting things. He’s just so jaded…that fucking prick! I wish the motherfucker, would just hurry up and go to hell. He's worth more dead to me, than alive!"

She succumbed again to a heartfelt crying session.

- “Did he hit you? Wait let me get you some water”

- “Yes, he does hit me whenever he gets in “his moods.” Yet, he is very smart. He only kicks me around, never hits me on the face. Wait! Please go to my bathroom medicine cabinet, and get me some valium too.”

- “Here Sandra, drink this. Why don’t you leave him Sandra?”
- “Thanks…here. Are you kidding me? Leave this? And do what? Really! What would I do? Just one of my purses is worth more than a month's salary at most entry level jobs. Besides, he’s a crazy motherfucker. He’d kill me if I attempted to leave him. I can’t divorce him because I signed a pre-nup, and he also gave me herpes. And what about all the years I've invested in this? And my friends? This is all I have now! “

She was consumed by a fit of hysterical laughter.

- “Jenny, I need to be alone now, to sleep it off, the valium helps me. Wait! What’s pending? Oh...ok the New Year’s Eve party. Wait here.”

She came back with a credit card and $200 in cash.

“Jenny, please go get a cell phone, I will pay the monthly fees. With this credit card order the stuff needed for the party. I can’t deal with it anymore. Please go now.”

The New Year’s Eve party was an amazing success. Jenny had never in her entire life, seen so much money burnt on just one party! She gathered in a Tupperware several goodies to share with the kids, then looked for Sandra to tell her she was leaving then.

“Happy New Year Sandra, and thanks for everything, the extra income has really made a difference to us.”
“Happy New Year to you too Hun!” This time, she opened her arms to Jenny for a genuine felt embrace. There were no more pretenses among them now. There was a common denominator, that of two young women who had made bad choices in life, and paid for the consequences on a daily basis.
“Don’t forget to come tomorrow to help me with the mess. Just make it after 12:00PM; surely I won’t be awake before that.” She softly kissed Jenny on the cheek.

The following day Jenny was barricaded from Sandra’s home.
The cops simply told her there was a homicide investigation, and he could not let anyone in there, except the detectives and forensics. She inquired again, as to whom…what happened, to no avail. The cop would not release any information.

Jenny dialed Sandra’s cell phone several times….only the mail box answered.

Ambition

Hey, did you notice how conveniently the gasoline prices lowered, right before the start of the holiday shopping season? A full four cents savings per gallon!

Wonder if that is the oil barons’ benevolent gesture to give the consumer thanks, for yet another record breaking earning year, as well as for the massive tax cuts they enjoy.

You know, that made me quite happy. I didn’t even mind too much that my garden salad was less abundant then usual; it was actually skimpy. Well, restaurants must cut corners I suppose to balance the outrageous cost increase in produce and what not, by product of the former mentioned.

So I must be thankful for that as well.

Less food served + increased walking = Barbie dimensions, (in my fantasy).

Seriously though, doesn’t this smell like price manipulation once again? Dupe the public into incurring serious credit card debt, into thinking that everything is OK?

Yes, four cent savings per gallon of gas. These savings evens out the 1,000% mark-ups, of some of the made in China products. Most of these manufactured by workers in sweat shops paid thirty cents per hour, forced to work 16 hour shifts to keep with production demands.

Think I will weasel out of shopping this holiday with the above sentiment in a holiday card.

Free Lunch

Jenny quickly ushered her two kids into her station wagon. John five, and Becky seven, were dressed in their finest attires for this special occasion.
Jenny didn’t look too shabby either, thanks to her boss who had donated most of her summer clothing to her a few weeks ago. She was rich, and bought the latest fashion trends each season anyway; it was sheer luck she was only two sizes bigger than Jenny.
She zipped her fleece jacket over her cute cotton blouse; this Thanksgiving morning was a bit chilly.
- " When are we getting there mom? I’m hungry!"
- " Let me warm up the car, and we’ll be there in no time John, just be patient ok?"

She counted the spare change and money in her wallet. She would have to do with $7 of gas. She was dismayed at how this barely moved the dial; this seeming to evaporate her last $7.00 until next week.

Shit! The brakes made a screeching sound whenever she stopped. This was getting dangerous she thought to herself. This beat-up ’89 wagon was due some major maintance.

She circulated the area to find closer parking space to the mission. They made their way quickly, her kids running ahead of her, excited about the holiday and the main event awaiting them. She was disheartened when she saw the huge line formed. It seemed bigger then ever this year.

Jenny smiled to the other people in the line; the line moved fairly quickly along. At last, they got their plates and started to get these filled. The trays of overflowing food looked, and smelled delicious!

She could have cooked a turkey herself, but come on…this was free! Besides, she had negotiated a good portion of her food stamps in exchange for cash; the two month-old light bill, was not going to be paid by the Holy Spirit after all.
Becky knew the drill and held her plate steady, while Jenny held her own, as well as John’s.
First they were served the dressing, and then they moved to the green beans, next….came the mashed potatoes, served by…what’s her name? The moment of mutual recognition came.

- “Jenny? Oh my God! Jenny? It’s me, Sandra!…I haven’t seen you since graduation, what …how are you? Oh my God!”
- “Hi Sandra! Good to see you! These are my kids, John and Becky.” She said while she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her, and a profuse blush crept over her cheeks.
- “They are adorable! Hi kids! Do you want gravy with your mashed potatoes? Here let me take your plates. Jenny, I must stop to say goodbye and chat a bit with you before you go...OK?”
- “Sure Sandra, we’ll just be on the tables somewhere.”

They moved along to get their slivers of bland turkey, and trimmings. Suddenly Jenny wasn’t quite as hungry. How did she sink so low? It was ok, life’s a struggle, but bearable without eye witnesses; especially a former nemesis from High School.

Jenny slumped on the bench, her appetite gone. She would save her plate for reheating later on for the kids. She nibbled on the bread roll; while she mused she looked ten years older than Sandra. She was even beginning to get a few gray hairs, which she promptly plucked. Her face looked aged beyond her years too, not to mention her hands. Years of cleaning houses made these simulate sand paper.
Sandra looked simply fabulous; her obvious breast enhancement complimenting her slim figure.
She swallowed her roll, while she fought the watering of her eyes, which she quickly wiped away with the sleeve of her fleece jacket.
Just as the kids were done eating, here comes Sandra.

- “Jenny, it is so good to see you. Truly! Listen, with the holidays and all, I am just so busy, I wanted to give you a little something for you to get the kids toys for Christmas. Here….take it please.” She held a folded $100 bill in front of Jenny.
- “Sandra…I…” what the hell, she was broke until next week, and she needed gas…and…what the hell. She took it. “Thanks Sandra, I will get them something nice. Thank you.” She forced a smile.
- “Jenny, I would really love to get together and talk with you. Here is my telephone number. Please call me next week, after this weekend; I will be out of town tomorrow, back next Monday. I have so much stuff to do…I simply need help for party planning – unending list of things pending. Will you call me, to see if we can work something out?”
- “Sure Sandra, that sounds wonderful. I will definitely call you next Monday. Thanks again…for everything.”
- “Great! See you soon!” She hesitated as if to hug her, opted instead to clasp her hands together, and give her a big smile; she then waved to Jenny’s kids a cheerful goodbye.

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Jenny gathered her brood, and walked away with a heavy heart. She felt like such a loser, did she have any remnants of dignity left? She looked at John’s eyes; so innocent, the color of the bluest sky, mirrors of her own. For her kids he would do anything. She was way beyond dignity; she had already passed that threshold. Anything was better than being evicted, and living again in her station wagon. That she would not permit her kids to endure.

She was way beyond preserving those shivers of dignity and hope. Her highest aspiration was to simply survive.

To be continued.

Decaffeinated Please

I got lost trying to find the Starbucks in City of Commerce, since I took a different route. This afternoon, I needed the illusion of the pick me up coffee does. The only decent decaffeinated coffee is brewed there; others taste and look like boiled shoe brew.

What I grasped as I was merging into a wide Avenue, was how rudely a beat up compact Nissan, changed to my lane without signaling. The driver of which, gave the middle finger salute to another vehicle on his left. Then the chase ensued.

A massive pick-up truck, with gargantuan wheels, changed lanes to follow suit. He also rudely merged into my lane - without signaling!

When we came to the next stop light, the beat-up Nissan crossed the red light while the massive pick-up stopped, I was right behind him. I could tell that both the driver of the Nissan, and the two of the pick-up truck, were Hispanic with shaved heads.

When the light turned green, the pick-up burnt rubber to catch up to the beat-up Nissan.
I followed at a moderate pace, and could not make out the car being chased. Then I saw on my left, he had entered the opposing lanes, and he was speeding towards opposing traffic. The massive pick-up followed suit, to enter opposing traffic lane as well.

This was serious stuff! I looked for my cell phone with the intent to call the cops, until it dawned on me; I had left my cell phone charging at the office! I lost sight of them when they turned a left corner.

While sipping my yummy decaffeinated coffee, and driving at a leisury pace, it dawned on me the aggression of those reckless drivers, as well as the highly probable aggression of tired shoppers on this black Friday... is probably due to the turkeys’ revenge.

Many Thanks

I was in an introspective mood today.

I employed my time to make sure my bathroom was sparkling clean.

The atmosphere here is almost like that of a sanctuary, with the music of Hildegard Von Binge playing continuously; I lower the volume only while I sleep or read. I want it to seep into my subconscious, and salve my wounded spirit.
Stacks of books are waiting to speak to me. My fridge is almost barren except for orange juice, dairy products, fruits, eggs, and vegetables.

Yet, I still feel a slight discomfort.

It came to me this morning, that while I try to be a good person, and recycle cans or water bottles in my purse to avoid dumping those in a public trash bin; I am not contributing as much as I should.

I seclude myself, and learn in theory, yet I do not put those in practice - how to advance then?

I reflected on this, and made the intention to be… Be there for someone, with a genuine smile, an ear to listen, a bear hug, or just companionship for a moment. I sent a couple of e-mails to those people who may welcome those, and I made a few telephone calls.
It’s been a while since I’ve been out on the trenches so to speak. I feel compelled now to go out and do, not just talk. I plan to find a local place to volunteer at least once a week.

I stopped at the market to get sodas for the Thanksgiving gathering at my mom’s. While there, I browsed through a Spanish tabloid magazine, depicting celebrities aiding in the food distribution in Tabasco, Mexico devastated by the recent floods; all wearing perfect make-up.

That is great P.R exposure. Yet, those same people that seem magnanimous with their time today, how do they treat those downtrodden after the holidays have passed? Do they offer a hot cup of coffee to a homeless person, on a chilly February morning, or rush to get their latte and go about their day?

There is never enough time to smell the roses; let alone the misery.
I hope those people served a free meal today at the mission, or wherever, were also served a genuine warm smile. At least for today, goodwill reigned among men, rich and poor alike.

I enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving meal. We held hands around the table to give thanks.

Last year, I gave thanks for my new car. This year, I sat next to my mom, and I mentioned I was thankful that she is in good health, post her operation.

To myself, I said I was thankful even for the setbacks, failures, and problems galore I've had this year. I view these as motivators, and opportunities to create changes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today's Quote

Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light.

-Albert Schweitzer

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Image by Octavio Ocampo

Reasons why cell phone cams are handy

Well, too lazy to write anything tonight. Except to note that I was formally invited to get free food at my Mom's, so I decided to go.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Elusive Sleep

In the novel by Daina Chaviano, “Man, Woman, and Hunger,” it mentioned the music of Hildegard Von Binge, a German mystic from medieval times. In this novel, it’s suggested her music opened the portal when meditating.

Below is a link if you would care to listen to it while meditating.

I attempted to get the CD with her melodies last Sunday, but Borders did not have it.
Just today, I got the CD, and I must tell you that listening to it while driving, put me in a sort of mild trance. I drove for quite a bit on automatic pilot.

Think I will play it at home, continuously, as I am just now. In the novel it says also that this music formed a protective shield from the dark spirits disturbing the protagonist.

This must be true, because I've been told that in an experiment, classical music was played in a street corner where there was a lot of criminal activity. Later the crime rate dwindled in that sector where the music was played. The cords of classical music speak to the soul.

Not too long ago someone counseled me in this fashion: “If you feel fear, control it, and tell your mind to get that fear the fuck out.”

Sometimes, I feel a presence.

Yet, I was apprehensive last night like never before. It seemed shameless, like just plucking itself on my bed. Sometimes I’ve felt on my thighs, not a caress, but a pressure, that makes my nerves contract. I have also felt a kiss upon my lips. Just a peck really; a whisper light contact. I simply let it be, yet, for some reason, last night I felt fear. I was in total darkness.

Last night, I ordered the fear to get the fuck out, and prayed out loud. I was able to relax enough to sleep afterwards.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCZdjYrB788

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Image: By Octavio Ocampo

Weird Dream

I dream a lot. I just woke up from a nap, after falling asleep reading.

This song was playing in my dream “The Paths of Life” a Bachata song by Vicentico.
When I was looking online to find the lyrics, and I came upon the title of Juanes’ latest CD titled: “Life is but a Little Time.” They are both Colombian artists.

Then in my dream, I dreamt of a big store totally deserted, while hundreds of people set up tents outside the parking lot of this ghostly mega store, to set up points of sales.

Anyway here is the translated version of the song…while translating it, it dawned on me, I had no intention to visit my family for Thanksgiving. I intend to spend it reading.


Vicentico - The Paths Of Life lyrics ( Los Caminos de la Vida)

The paths of life,
They are not as I hoped
They are not like I believed,
They are not what I imagined.
The paths of the life...They are very difficult to walk them,
Difficult to walk them
And I can’t find the exit
I thought that the life was different when I was little,
I thought things were different
They were easy like yesterday

That my mother worried
She tried to give everything that I Needed
I realize now that it was not as much like that
I realize that I saw my mother tired of working so hard for my brother and for me
Now in earnest I want to help her
And for her fight until the end, until I die
And for her, I don’t want to die
Also I don’t want my old lady to die
Yet I know that destiny is like that

The paths of the life,
They are not as I hoped
They are not like I believed,
They are not what I imagined.
The paths of the life
they are very difficult to walk them, Difficult to walk them
and I can’t find the exit
I thought that the life was different when I was little,
I thought things were different
they were easy like yesterday

Paranoia

Excerpt from: “Man, Woman, and Hunger” by Daina Chaviano


“I can’t remember how I came to his bed. I just remember his hands with that perennial smell of comfortable and safe home; his tongue, going from my neck to the utmost further reaches; of the loving one eyed-beast…..soft flesh to be made captive between the lips, the upper and lower ones – to be caressed with the teeth in dangerous simulation of decapitation, to be followed by a kiss, half slurp, half bite. Manna of the hungry people. Milk that I want you milk: Refresher for my vagina in ruins. How anxious of orgasms is my mutilated soul...

I quake like a whore in lent. I open my legs. I get wet. Tie me to the posts, don’t let me escape. My body becomes a piranha, becomes a vampire, becomes feral, devours everything and wants everything. The religious ecstasy is brother of the carnal ecstasy, and sometimes those are confused.
Lick my apple, bury yourself in my Eden. Inter your cross in my hill, let me suck your paradise….The angels have sex. How not to love God?”


“El Hombre, la hembra y el hambre” by Chaviano Daine Barcelona, editorial Planeta S.A 1998
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Didn't get the book I was looking for, yet I did get five novels by Chaviano.
I plan to meet her in Miami where she resides, at the annual book fare next year. I also hope one day to meet the author Paolo Coelho.
My soul has established a one-sided dialogue through their written words.

I would also like to meet Ocampo, my favorite painter, since I want to post the question in a subtle way, if he gets his visions via astral projection. He’s just so out there.
Of course, one may ponder if hallucinatory drugs have anything to do with it.
I recall when I was about 18 yrs old, I experimented with marijuana a few times. This caused some form of paranoia.

I was with my brothers and I asked them in serious earnest, what if…what if God had simply not decided to create earth, man and woman on a whim? What then?

The opposite of something, being….absolutely NOTHING.

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Picture " Forever" by Octavio Ocampo

Gifts

So I was crawling on all fours, meticulously reading titles of books at the L.A Central library, looking for one in particular in my research of the Divine Proportions. I did not find it, but put those books in reserve.

When visiting the Dali exhibition at LACMA, I read interviews he gave, in which he briefly mentioned this enigma. I had first come across this subject, when I took a couple of art classes in Mexico City from an eccentric artist who wrote a book about this very subject. These proportions he said, the Renaissance masters used as guide to create their masterpieces. It seems worth investigating.

I did not purchase his book. Nor return for more classes on subsequent visits to Mexico, because I found his derisive and patronizing way irritating. His son, who was the actual instructor asked me when I signed up using a pen I carried from The Montecarlo in Las Vegas, “What were You doing there?”

What was he doing there?

No matter how technically skilled a person may be, is he or she is petty minded, how can they be deserving of the magnanimous gifts of exalted inspiration?
This inspiration may come in the form of the seed of an idea, a word, a dream, a vision, a musical note, an inaudible whisper in one’s ear, with the potential to evolve into an extraordinary, vs. mediocre piece.
These derived perhaps from the collective ‘energy’ if that is how one wishes to interpret these.

What are these, if not gifts?

You may argue that brilliant, yet evil people have lots of creativity in how to screw their brothers, and the world at large. This is true.

Yet it is true there are several realms, and those who create war, commit murder, or lucre from child pornography in fact, feed those negative forces with these very acts.

It is not wise to judge a book by its cover. Just like the son of the artist whom I deemed a frustrated artist, had the insolence to take the pen away from me to inspect it, I was also privy to this microscopic view of the world from another source, which was disappointing.

I thought it would be nice to volunteer at a non-profit who gave free lunch to homeless people every Sunday. I e-mailed my intention to volunteer, and agreed with the director of the program to be there at a certain time.

I arrived perhaps five minutes earlier than scheduled, with donated clothes, and a mandatory $10 gift card from a fast food eatery. Then a man yells at me, inquiring if I was there for the program.

He was clearly upset I was there earlier, since he assumed I was there to get a free lunch, and was not in line outside. He was the director.

Although he means well, I assume...his project is not as effective if he only offers a person one meal, yet in a manner that lacks tolerance, love and respect. The acknowledgement that you and I have a spark of the Divine, and deserve to be treated with a modicum of respect as such, was lacking.

Eventually I told him so in an e-mail, after I elaborated on how I best employed my efforts to volunteer in my commitment to the amputee shelter in Chiapas, and did not care to receive any more e-mails from his organization.

It is hard to break away from ingrained stereo types. In fact, it is highly speculated that the wealthiest man in the world, who debunked Bill Gates of that title, is a Mexican. It is viewed with a little trepidation. C’est la vie.

Things happen for a reason, and I was welcomed somewhere else.

Two Tough Questions

Question1: If you knew a woman who was pregnant, who had 8 kids already, three who were deaf, two who were blind, one mentally retarded, and she had syphilis, would you recommend that she have an abortion?

Read the next question before looking at the answer for this one.

Question 2: It is time to elect a new world leader, and only your vote counts. Here are the facts about the three leading candidates.

Candidate A -Associates with crooked politicians, and consults with astrologist's. He's had two Mistresses. He also chain smokes and drinks 8 to 10 martinis a day.

Candidate B -He was kicked out of office twice, sleeps until noon, used opium in college and drinks a quart of whiskey every evening.

Candidate C -He is a decorated war hero. He's a vegetarian, doesn't smoke, drinks an occasional beer and never cheated on his wife.

Which of these candidates would be your Choice? Decide first, no peeking, then scroll down for the answer.








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Candidate A: is Franklin D.Roosevelt.


Candidate B: is Winston Churchill.


Candidate C: is Adolph Hitler.

And, by the way, the answer to the abortion question: If you said yes, you just killed Beethoven.

Pretty interesting isn't it? Makes a person think before judging someone. Never be afraid to try something new, or to be open.


~ Unknown Author

Carefree

Ha! ha! I won't tell you where mind went regarding the dirty nose claim...

Today, I took the Gold Line train to Pasadena. While I was walking away from the platform, I saw a little Asian lady exiting the train with grocery bags, as well as pulling a foldable cart, loaded with stuff.
She did not understand me much, but I made the gesture that I’d take her bags. So we left the station, and when crossing the street, I figured she was struggling a bit with her cart.

I kid you not; the bags I was holding weighed about 20 lbs. altogether, while pulling the cart took the effort of about 40 lbs., at least.

This lady was about 4’11, hunched backed, in her late 70’s at the very least.

I'm left with the impression that, making all this effort to bring home the bacon, must make one be extra grateful for the food on the table.

After about two blocks when we came to an intersection she said something about California, or whatever, I signaled I was OK taking the bags. No problem lady, use me, I am bumming, with no plans except dealing with Nextel, art supply store, and the gym.

After we parted ways, I made my way to my destination once more, and the deviation from my trek took me through a street I had never walked by before.

I walked by the Pasadena Humane Society, and I lingered on the entrance, tempted to go inside.

I decided it was best not to. Seeing dogs caged, in need of a home, would have affected me.
And, besides who needs responsibilities. I am carefree as a bird.
Although I enjoy animals, particularly dogs, I don’t want to repeat the episode of my dog Cindy.

She was a German Sheppard, and Labrador mix. I loved her, for which reason it was heartbreaking to see her at the end, in pain, unable to move around much. Her eyes full of anguish seeming to say, that was not a life. Not even for a dog.

I could not let her inside anymore, after she suffered from uncontrolled incontinency.

Crap! Is that the train stop we are heading to eventually? There is no dignity involved, when the body deteriorates.

I like it this way, carefree and free to do whatever, and where ever. Yep, I like it this way.

Public Service Announcement

For future reference, if ordering food at a Belize restaurant, do not ask for black beans.
The man at the counter looked at me as if I was a rare insect, while illuminating me to the fact that it was NOT a Cuban restaurant, but from Belize, and they ONLY served red kidney beans. He then turned his back on me and went into the kitchen.
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I prefer to patronize small business establishments, rather then chain restaurants, yet, I had to leave. The final straw was when he scratched his head in front of me. If he does that in front of the customers, I doubt that is the only place he scratches, or dubious that he washes his hands in the restroom.

I needed some food and pronto, it was already past 8:00 pm, and the last meal I had was an avocado salad at 1:00 pm. I was feeling light headed and very weak by then; I drove to the complex where the gym, Target, and a supermarket are.

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My intent was to buy something healthy for dinner at the supermarket.

Upon entering, I was arrested by the scent of fresh baked bread. There were rows; upon rows of all types of pastries and breads fresh baked from the ovens…I was hypnotized; Manna from Heaven! The scent was so intoxicating; I swayed for a moment, my body and will too weak.

I partially regained my composure by leaning over the market cart for support. I pushed us away from the bread, to the fruit aisles; I dared not look anymore.

I am absolutely and irrevocably certain that Heaven smells like a bakery. One can lie on mounds of fluffy, redolent bread; these lovingly supporting me in a state of ecstasy.

I only need to visualize it to have a cup of hot cocoa in front of me, or delicious jam and real butter as well. I can eat as much as I want, and not gain an ounce. I can stuff my brassiere with bread!

Wait! There will be no brassieres, nor any type of restrictions, prejudices, shame, nor complexes in Heaven.

While I lounge on my fluffy bolillo recliner, I listen to the perfectly harmonious celestial symphony, in between brakes, there are jamming sessions with Sinatra, Elvis, John Lennon, George Harrison, and Hendrix on the guitars. Louie Armstrong will join with his saxophone, and even Beethoven will join the mix on the piano.

Wait a minute! Perhaps I am stepping ahead of myself. Since I teeter precariously on the line between good and semi-bad, I might have to make a stop over in purgatory for a few days.
I imagine it will be like a sweltering, August day in Las Vegas. I will stumble into the Las Vegas Convention Center, to check out the event, and I will see Friedrich Nietzsche sitting in the front row of a N.O.W Convention (women’s gathering). The obvious incongruity of the situation being, the a/c is not in working condition, and the convention seems to be.....perpetual.

I digress, how did I drift from red beans, to bolillos, and to Nietzsche?
I am still weak, please forgive me. I made some purchases then I ambled to Target’s coffee shop.

I asked the lady in charge if she had any decaffeinated coffee.
-“We only have hot dogs, pop corn, and pretzels.” She said.
My feeble attention was directed to the big pictures of food. There was a nice salad; I asked if she had one in the fridge?
-“We only have hot dogs, pop corn, and pretzels.” She said, seemingly upset I interrupted her.
Oh, OK. I requested utensils and a plate to eat my purchased items. She obliged, while I thought I was hallucinating by now. I was mesmerized by the circumference of her arms, similar to a leg of mutton, both intricately tattooed down to her wrists.

Finally, I sat down to appease my ravenous hunger. I sliced two semi-green bananas, and layered strawberry yogurt, and almonds on top.

After satisfying my hunger, I still felt too weak to venture into the gym.

It took a Herculean effort to shuffle myself there, yet I did!

Before that, I simply rested by face between my hands and contemplated the people purchasing stuff at Target’s, like busy ants.

After a while I wondered…why am I here? What is the meaning of life?

Eh!

Happy Friday!!

At least it's Friday. No cell phone...it's wet.

Hunger

Excerpt from: "Man, Woman, and Hunger" by Daina Chaviano

- What time is it ? asked the Mora.
- Fifteen past six. Nubia answered.
- So early, and I am hungry.
- Well girl, the only thing I can offer you today is the newest invention: Steak of grapefruit peel. If you want, I can give you the recipe.
- Thanks, must taste like crap.
- Be thankful I don’t offer you steak of floor mat.
The Mora observed her for a few moments.
- That is a metaphor, right?
- What metaphor bull shit! You think I make poetry of hunger? I’d have to be an imbecile…. One day there was a man offering steak sandwiches for sale. The steak was hard to chew on, especially the amount of threads that retained the teeth; many speculated it was simply low grade meat….
- But, how can people confuse a blanket with steak? That is impossible!
- Look at my steak of grapefruit peel…… Look at the grapefruit peel I bought. I boiled those so they become tender. Next I add lemon, and a drop of vinegar to camouflage the tartness, then I fry them in oil, and voila!
- Nubia, I’m sorry but this must taste like shit.
- Don’t complain, or I will serve you the blanket.
- You still haven’t told me, how the man got away with that.
- Must not have been difficult. The meat we are rationed is not much different from a cleaning cloth. It is very thin and fibrous.
- But the taste…
- Ah, the form and texture. Marx would have loved to live in this place. Surely he would have found new philosophical implications to expand on the theory of historic materialism.
- Nuvia, don’t joke.
- Ok, I will tell you.
- First, one must have the soul of an artist. You must cut the cloth to make it resemble a fillet of steak, the borders uneven, imitating the coast of a foreign country….The best outlines are those of Great Britain, or the Scandinavian Peninsula….

Upon obtaining the desired effect, the cloth is boiled with the purpose to smooth it, then it is marinated two, or three days in a mixture of vinegar and lemon, so the cloth is impregnated of an acid taste, destined to fool the palate. Ideally one adds garlic and onions the moment it is fried: that gives it the magic touch….

must be hidden between two slices of bread…the bread will reinforce the illusion…also will create the barrier so that the eye – harder to fool than the palate – does not identify the mystification………
Another great invention is “picadillo of banana peel” Here the ingenuity of the Cuban is showcased, capable of making of inedible fruit waste, into recyclable food. …..This endeavor has yet to be given due merit by the world’s ecological organizations.
The formula to create this vegetable picadillo is as follows: take several green banana peels from the one we call platano macho…
First you boil those….so they become soft, then they are mashed to resemble ground beef. This mass is seasoned with garlic, lemon and cooked with lots of tomato paste (if you find any)….

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There are other delicacies similar in style; all are folkloric and typical of the region. It is a pity they don’t show these to the tourists.

"El hombre, la hembra y el hambre" Chaviano Daina 1998 Barcelona, editorial Platena S.A.


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The above may seem like fiction, yet I wonder. I have heard some weird stories.
For instance, there is an ambulant dentist, who extracts teeth without anesthesia, from a makeshift kiosk…cannot verify if this is true.

Also, when there is a wedding, the cake is simply an elaborate prop, or there is a breast bone from a turkey that is shared by neighboring families to create substance for soup.

Next Thanksgiving, when Big Bird is presented upon the altar of your table, stuffed and baked to a crisp, let us reflect on the many reasons we have to be thankful for, living with so much abundance.

There is so much abundance that, discarding valuable objects and people is the norm - much easier than recycling those.

I think I will attempt to make the banana concoction for Thanksgiving. Will not use a banana peel - I don’t have to be that extreme - will use a couple of soy patties instead.

That is exactly the very reason for being thankful.

The Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all..
One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence,empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."
The grand son thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

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~Author Unknown

Feel Good

It was just one of those days. My body is screaming for release.

I mean…my shoulders, and back of neck are extremely tense. The feeling is like that of a rubber band that’s stretched way beyond its limit…to the point before it snaps.

The culprit in part is me. I tend to fall asleep while reading with two pillows raising my head.
Usually, when I feel tense like this…I do several things. Dancing is one, going to the Jacuzzi at the gym (being repaired), masturbate, eat chocolate, get a massage…

Since I really am not doing the previously listed, except stretch exercises…to help me visualize and capture the mood of a previous ‘feel good’ moment, I will list some of those things which take me there.

- Petting a dog, or cuddling a puppy.
- Glass of cold milk, and a slice of chocolate cake/ or chocolate
- First kiss
- A blast of cold air caressing my face when entering controlled climate when coming in from above three digit climate.
- the opposite, thawing my shivering body by a fire, and drinking hot cocoa when coming into a warm, cozy environment from the frigid cold.
- The feeling during and post a session of acupuncture… (Almost mind altering relaxation).
- The feeling of lightness and content when embracing a lover in a body of water, while wrapping my legs around him (preferable nude).
- getting the green light for a project I envisioned, and/or seeing it come to fruition.
- When the airplane comes to a complete stop, unbuckling my seat belt, especially after an eight hour flight; also, the power of the airplane engine, when it takes off.
-Sunrise
- Smooth flow of traffic on my lane, particularly when the opposite lanes are crawling at snail’s pace.
- The change from crippling high heels, into sneakers.
- Exploring a new place, one I’ve never been to
- Pirates of the Caribbean @ Disneyland

- Sleeping in late, till whenever
- To fall in love
- Multiple orgasms, the extended version.