euphony, euphoria

sounds and bass, harmony, clap, the sizzle of the rhythm tells me how to feel. i paint myself into a film, sitting on a train, looking at meaningless trees and considering the who and the what of me, and why i ate so many fries. without these wicked notes dancing in and out of my ears i would be so plain. they don't define me, but they enrich me. for each mood, there is a complex string of aural insanity, arrhythmia, syncopation, tranquility. through my veins, into my lungs, coming out through the bottoms of my feet when i walk along the sand where it's packed tightly with saltwater.

it can hype me up, chill me out, cool me down, diffuse frustration, temper rage and make my head bounce. i sink into molten metal, cover the surface of everything i see. the wind abusing the palm fronds looks like a drum swish and a toe tap. the heat pulsing through headlights at dusk is the reminder of a sweaty dance floor.

a devious dj puts his fingers in your head and plays around. seek the magic: a violin of spine-tingling remorse, a drum of cultural chaos, a guitar twang of porch swings and swaying fields of the country, a legendary electro crescendo, turning ordinary into white hot.

fill the space with reverb and tone, fill it all up until it spills over. until you feel that all the air inside you is gone and has been replaced with this floating enigmatic eruption of sound.

and then you're there.

three strikes, you're out

have we gotten to the point in our courting code that everything is expected upfront, like a down payment on a car? or is it the same as it's always been yet more out in the open now? in the old school days, did people assume they were going to get down (or at least see some skin) right off the bat? is it history's own conspiracy to cover up rampant promiscuity in an attempt to maintain dignity and a sense of composure for the ages, or was it really more tame circa, say, the 18th century?

we now have this tug-o-war with taking the pants off that becomes frustrating and also a bit expository (figuratively). the guy doesn't have much patience--this much we know. he can handle paying for a lady's caesar salad only a couple times before he feels entitled to the goods, and simultaneously, no matter how game she is, she's playing the can't-put-out-too-soon-or-he'll-think-i'm-a-hussy game. she eats her salad, sips her appletini, and then maybe he'll get to first (whatever that is) and the chances that she'll give it up before he gives up are slim to none, and there goes that "relationship".

so now what? people getting down on the first date is nothing new, but is that now the norm? why do ladies inherently care about feelings and all that mush when men are in it for the nookie and, most often, nothing more? how exactly are we hard-wired that these things can't be altered without severe intervention from the brain, telling us to think/act differently? i have to believe that it'd be so much simpler to be able to turn these responses on and off like a control panel, but unfortunately it ain't that way. i hear about guys getting all caught up on some hot mama and they start freaking out and THINKING about things (with their brains!) and i realize that the roles we pretend to inhabit aren't always exactly the same on the inside. yes, many a lady gets in over her head by romanticizing something that just shouldn't be, but boys do this too. even men. it is amazing to see, because then i sit and think to myself how hard you guys must work sometimes to perpetuate the i-don't-give-a-f*** attitude. and yes, i know that maybe 8 times outta 10 you genuinely don't give-a, but those 2 times, oh man, they are killers.

bi-continental breakfast

i was here, i was there, and now i'm here, once again, in the sometimes glorious, always controversial u.s. of a.

truth is, i've been back for several weeks. i just never quite knew how to tell you.

before my seven months south of the border (heyo!) i had left my post in the fog city and schlepped my numerous unnecessary belongings to southern california, where the sun almost always shines (and when it doesn't people go mental). now that the adventures in beans & rice are over, i reside in loss anjeleez. i spend my time doing a variety of things, among them: attempting to get cultured, drinking tea, convincing people that walking is a suitable means of transport and a worthy pastime, eating tacos, and looking for the delsheeziest job-like thing to rock me into a new dimension.

beyond that, what would be excellent and earn me five stars (awarded from myself) is if i would get into a blogging rhythm that would far surpass my recent output, making verbal internet magic on a regular basis. this would bring joy both to me and to the readers. so i guess that means to me and my mom.

words, sentences, paragraphs--there is really so much potential to dance all over the psyche of anyone literate enough to partake. and dance i shall.