What would Sonny Barger think?

Why is it that guys with "hogs" take forever to saddle up and ride away? I was having lunch today with La and Mouse at the Princess (a favorite haunt of exotic bike riders, second only to the Waterfront), and it was a rather Dubonnet lunch after a stressful week for all involved, when some of the guys decide after their umpteenth beer that it was time to go(which is kinda scary when you really think about it).

Rather than just hopping on the bike and riding off into the sunset, here's the scenario:

Step One: Fire up the bike, and do the Vroom, Vroom thing.

Step Two: Take a long 360 degree look around, enjoy the sights, girls, etc...

Step Three: Put on right hand glove.

Step Four: See step Two.

Step Five: Put on left hand glove.

Step Six: See step Two.

Step Seven: Put on silly German Army Hat Helmet. It's cool, ya know.

Step Eight: See step Two.

Step Nine: Call Broker on status of IPO.

Step Ten: See step Two.

Step Eleven: Get on Bike.

Step Twelve: See step Two.

Step Thirteen: Do the Vroom, Vroom thing.

Step Fourteen: See step Two.

Step Fifteen: Leave.

This is a universal observation (at least on my part), is there something in the purchase/lease agreement that stipulates you have to go through the above, otherwise you don't qualify for the loan?

God, they're worse than the ladies leaving a parking space at the mall.

Next up: Hair trigger car alarms activated by loud motorcycles.

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Can't wait...

Apple iPhone to be released on June 11

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James Brown RIP

I was absolutely blown away when I saw this performance.

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Little Italy, San Diego

I love my neighborhood. We lived in the burbs for 13 years, in a fabulous home with many fond memories, but not much interaction with our neighbors. Actually, there were a few neighbors where that was a good thing.

Little Italy is a completely different enclave. I can walk to work and say Good Morning to half a dozen people before I reach the end of my two block journey. I feel completely connected to the community, and am invested in it.

Sure, it’s noisy. The trains hooting at god awful times in the early am, the gigantic 18 wheeler that brings a box of crullers to the corner coffee shop at 6:00am, the maintenance crew cleaning the sidewalks with a power cleaner, but somehow I’ve grown impervious to it. Hey, urban living is not for the faint of heart!

Little Italy is however, very quiet on Sundays. It’s a Catholic neighborhood you see.

It’s a wonderful thing to walk downstairs and have a lovely, long, lazy lunch with your friends at the fine bistro immediately below your condo. Watch the folks go by, say Hi to friends and acquaintances. Feel the warmth of the sun on your face, and the mellow contentment of the wine in your heart.

Life is very good in Little Italy.

There is vitality to this neighborhood that I’d wager you won’t find anywhere else in San Diego. And what a cast of characters: the old lady with the horrendous feet who sleeps all day at Piazza Natale, the guys in front of Pete’s Meats checkin’ out the girls all day long , the homeless guy with the trigger finger constantly walking, walking, walking. The 944 girls grabbing a decafsoytripleshot cappuccino at Café Italia; the ladies in the red hats, toodling behind Anthony Davi’s Little Italy tour, the tourists.

Did you know the restaurateurs know it’s going to be a good night when there’s a line out of Filipi’s Pizza Grotto.

Maybe tonight La and I will have a glass of wine at the Piazza Basilone and watch the sunset across the bay.

Life is grand.

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Love is Reckless...

Love is reckless; not reason.
Reason seeks a profit.
Love comes on strong,
consuming herself, unabashed.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,
she risks everything and asks for nothing.
Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

Without cause God gave us Being;
without cause, give it back again.

Rumi

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For no apparent reason

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American Idol

I know what your going to say. American Idol? You’ve got to be kidding!

But before you all get snooty on me, the show is really good, and America has a long and venerable tradition in Talent Shows in both television and radio. Ted Mack’s Amateur Hour, Star Search, etc.

Anyway, American Idol was well below my radar until this year (and that’s not because the talent is any better this year, as opposed to years past), and it’s becoming a weekly ritual. And I learn new things…

Like,

Who know Gwen Stefani was so….

Articulate. I always thought she was a pretty good performer, but I had no idea that she was so reserved. She seemed almost shy, that said she was pretty straight up when giving her opinion on the contestants’ song choices and singing style.

And I never realized there’s a hair style called a faux Mohawk. Maybe, it’ll replace the mullet, which I don’t see Billy Ray Cyrus sporting anymore, but that’s another “talent” show.

Here’s my take on the judges:

Simon is always right. That’s it. Don’t really need Randy or Paula, except to provide a balance to Simon’s bluntness.

One thing you come to realize early on, is that this show is all about song choices. It seems from watching that the contestants who know who they are and find the right song will ultimately succeed.

And then there’s Sanjaya. Who has the most god awful voice, but is still there. If there was an argument against democracy, he would be it. There are theories out there as to why he continues to plough ahead each week, Howard Sterns’ campaign to get him to the finals and ultimately be the winner ( a kind of sick joke), to voteforworst.com – same scenario. But my guess, is that he’s winning the hearts of young girls in the 10 – 13 year range.

Well the women have by and far outperformed the men. The only guy I like and I can’t remember his name, he’s the bald guy who wears the hats. The others might as well pack it in.

Actually, the winner this year will be a woman.

And my prediction is it’s going to be Melinda. The girl has GOT pipes, and she knows how to choose a song. And the runner ups are in my mind:
Jordan Sparks, who consistently shows poise and grace, and again knows how to choose a song. All of 17 years old and already on her way.

Gina Glockson, who sang a great version of The Pretenders “I’ll Stand by You” last night. She’s found her niche and her performances reflect it.

Lakisha Jones – I don’t know why I have a hard time with her, she’s got a great voice, and knows how to sing a song. In some ways, she reminds me of Patti Labelle, who tends to take the ball and run with it. Not always a good thing. I think in the hands of a good producer, she’d be very successful.

Anyway, that’s what I think. We’ll see tonight.

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Another Program Note

I'm new to this blogging thing (although I'm addicted to reading them), so when I first set up this blog if you wanted to make a comment you had to register with Google.

You no longer have to do that, so if you were hesistant to comment because of the registering thing, it no longer stands in the way.

We residents of the House of Love want to hear from you!

Walk in Beauty!

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Quitting Smoking is Arduous

I must say it's the hardest thing I've ever done. If you've never smoked you probably will never understand what a smoker goes through trying to kick the habit. As a matter of fact, calling it a "habit" really understates what it really is. While there is an habitual component to smoking, i.e., the trip up to the flower market is exactly 3 cigarettes long, - one at the on ramp, one at Manchester, and one at the Poinsettia off ramp; or one smoke on the walk to Mona Lisa's. And then, there are the triggers, similar to "habit smoking", but accompanied with another component) usually another vice - a cup of coffee, a drink, apres sex. Smoking is much more than a habit and by that I don't mean it's an addiction. That's the obvious part.

Smoking is a relationship. Sounds pretty shocking eh?

I've been smoking longer than I've been married. My cigarettes and I have been through a lot together. The high school years, boot camp, births, marriages, deaths. It's always been there when I needed it. Keeps quiet when I'm thinking. It's a constant.

We kill time together.

Kept me company when I used to be on the road for weeks at a time.

Cigarettes are my friend.

So quitting smoking is like severing a long standing relationship. With all the attending fears and melancholy that go along with it. One knows on an intellectual level that this a purely destructive relationship, but as in all destructive relationships all kinds of justifications can be made to continue it.

So there's that part, then there's the physical part. I've heard that it's different from one person to the next, but for me it's lightheadedness, twitchiness, inability to concentrate (to the point that I can't think of anything BUT cigarettes) and irritability. I even got irritated at Diane Sawyer this morning.

Then there is the perverse pleasure of being a social pariah. As one who bridles at authority, who hates being told what to do, or being coerced into a socially acceptable behavior: aka an individualist. It's just great fun to irritate people. So in order to successfully get off the cigs, one has to make the mental adjustment that they're not the romantic outsider, rugged individualist; that the whole world was right along, and that rather than "taking a stand against the man", you're just being childish.

I guess for me the addiction part is the easy part, smoking has become so much a part of my persona, it takes some serious mental heavy lifting to think of a life without cigarettes.

With apologies to Descartes, I smoke therefore I am.

But that is overstating it a bit.

I will prevail.

Farewell my friend.

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Program Note

If you want to be notified of any new posts to this blog, scroll down to the bottom of the blog and click on the Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).

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Thanks to Amalthea

and all our friends and family for making La's birthday so glittering and bright. Dogs, cats, kids, family and friends...

it doesn't get any better than that!

Great food too! I wonder where Amalthea learned how to cook, she certainly never seemed all that interested when she was growing up.

All love to all of you!

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La says I can have a dog if I quit smoking

So beginning tomorrow March 26, 2007 I will for the gazillionth time quit...

Now that I've publicly stated this fact, I'm relying on a little help and support from you folks.

I'll keep you posted on how it's going.

Wish me luck!

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Stardust

Hoagy Carmichael wrote this song in 1921, perhaps the most poignant love song of all time. It reminds us to cherish each moment with our loved ones, as life is fleeting.

And now the purple dust of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
Now the little stars, the little stars pine
Always reminding me that we're apart
You wander down the lane and far away
Leaving me a love that cannot die
Love is now the stardust of yesterday
The music of the years gone by.

Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song
That melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
Ah, but that was long ago
Now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song

Beside a garden wall
Where stars are bright
You are in my arms
That nightingale tells its fairy tale
of paradise where roses grew
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
my stardust melody
The memory of love's refrain.

Beautiful no?

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I heart NY

**DISCLAIMER** Gross generalizations occur in this blog.

I need a little enlightenment... Why is it that New Yorkers think that all things stylish and wonderful begin and exist in New York? By default, what you are doing cannot be stylish and wonderful if you are not copying those fickle and fleeting trends that are current in the Big Apple. As a matter of fact, didn't you know that New Yorkers were doing that "like 10 years ago"? It doesn't matter what it is, if you are doing it and they are not, you simply must be 10 years behind the curve. It's their rule of thumb.

Let the following conversation illustrate my point: (names and dates have been changed to protect the innocent)

Me: "Welcome to my gigamaree boutique!"
NY: "Your gigamarees are made of the best quality goods, but you should really look into hootmalalies. You can use the same products to make them, and they are totally cutting edge in the City right now."
Me: "Well, yes. I actually know how to make a hootmalaly, but I really love gigamarees. They are so simple, yet so complex. Not to mention, our customers just love them!"
NY: "Yeah, we were doing gigamarees 10 years ago. They're like so gauche now."
Me: looking dumbfounded because I'd never even seen a gigamaree come out of New York, especially 10 years ago

It seems it never occurs to them that anyone might not be interested in what is 'in' at the moment in their beloved city, but rather taking inspiration from their own dreams and visions? Or perhaps a different eternal city is a source of inspiration?

Me: "Actually, when I was in Paris, I visited this sublime little shop on the Left Bank where they made gigamarees. I was so romanced and inspired and I hadn't seen anything like it in America. Not too long after that trip, I decided to open my own store. I'd been in the hootmalaly business for years, but gigamarees are just the culmination of all my visions."
NY: "Paris, you say?"
Me: "Oh yeah, you know the Parisians were doing hootmalalies like so 10 years ago."

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March 24th is La's Birthday

Happy Birthday Sweetheart! It's our 33rd birthday together.

I love you.

Chavo.

This Marriage
May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like the date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,
an omen as welcomes the moon in a clear blue sky.
I am out of words to describe
how spirit mingles in this marriage.

Rumi

Have a great day babe!

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Perfect Symmetry

Love, Devotion and Surrender

To serve and never be tired is love
To learn and never be filled is devotion
To offer and never to end is surrender

Love is man's reality
Devotion is man's divinity
Surrender is man's immortality

Reality is all-pervading
Divinity is all-elevating
Immortality is all-fulfilling

Sri Chinmoy

I've been carrying that around with me since 1972, when I read in the liner notes of a Carlos Santana/John McClaughlan LP. Yes, I said LP. I still have it...

Maybe, I'll listen to it after work today. I seem to recall it's not so great. However, the first line of the poem is also a great Santana tune from the LP "Welcome". Vocals by Floral Purim and Leon Thomas. One of my favorites.

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Your are what you eat

and what you read too. It seems there's always something to get mad about these days, no matter what you're political persuasion. I find that a daily consumption of world events, political diatribe, news, can leave one in a very bad mood. So the purpose of this blog is to alleviate (or at least ameliorate) some of the negative and bring a little positive energy into the world. So let's start this new blog off with something that brings me great joy.

"Lovely One"
By Pablo Neruda

Lovely one,
just as on the cool stone
of the spring, the water
opens a wide flash of foam,
so is the smile of your face,
lovely one.

Lovely one,with delicate hands and slender feet
like a silver pony,
walking, flower of the world,
thus I see you,
lovely one.

Lovely one,
with a nest of copper entangled
on your head, a nest
the color of dark honey
where my heart burns and rests,
lovely one.

Lovely one,your eyes are too big for your face,
your eyes are too big for the earth.

There are countries, there are rivers,
in your eyes,
my country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
they light the world
through which I walk,
lovely one.

Lovely one,
your breasts are like two loaves made
of grainy earth and golden moon,
lovely one.

Lovely one,
your waist,
my arm shaped it like a river when
it flowed a thousand years through your sweet body,
lovely one.

Lovely one,
there is nothing like your hips,
perhaps earth has
in some hidden place
the curve and the fragrance of your body,
perhaps in some place,
lovely one.
Lovely one, my lovely one,
your voice, your skin, your nails,
lovely one, my lovely one,
your being, your light, your shadow,
lovely one,
all that is mine, lovely one,
all that is mine, my dear,
when you walk or rest,
when you sing or sleep,
when you suffer or dream,
always,
when you are near or far,
always,
you are mine, my lovely one,
always.

Thank God for Pablo Neruda.

Walk in Beauty.

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