Beachside for Bed

I hope this doesn't turn out like the end of La Strada. Replace that beachside for a bed. Zampanò was a fool; the real clown.

Regarding the Quiet

Despite all the things unsaid, despite all my actions wayward and unkempt, of this and only this be certain: It is a fortune to see you happy.

Them Under Yellow Streetlight

Look here, a beauty in the streetlight

Charm on lips pointing north, so slight

On this dying, splash yellow'd gravel

It is her again

With a look and a shine that'll never be mine

Sitting passenger side

in the car of another

Closer they stand

Ever closer they stand

With her charm

she stands

in the arms

of another

And I'll walk away from

what I can not stand:

It is her again

now

happily embraced

in the heart of her lover

Excuse me as I

Take the walk around the block alone

Unable to view

Hands tenderly held, hey lady

Dogs playing fuck

Premonition of the intention, hey baby

of the hugging couples present

on this dying street outside my room

drowning in the streetlight

Away from a beauty lit yellow

A gang of fedora'd shadows seen

huddled fiercely in the yellow

taunting through gait to the step,

"Hey it could never be."

Surrounded, outnumbered

by the lack of light in me

to the left and to the right

upways and downways

'tis a slaughter of a fight

they whisper viciously

"Yeaaaaaaaaaaah . . . creep!"

Excuse me as I

Take the blockwalking beating alone

Still unable to view

what can now no longer be deemed "She"

but instead "Them"

Them who by

streetlight, starlight, moonlight

and certainly daylight!

Take upon themselves

a look

and a shine

wholly

Them

On sidewalk block found no escape

So to the sky is sought relief

So it is sighted

To

Connect-the-dots on that Dipper

Grasp it from the midnight

and tank 'im over the head with it

Go hold 'er if you can

with the bruises of 7 stars

But I walk away

Lit by streetlight, starlight, moonlight

And I realize by that point north, though slight

I ought to

Poke the moon

and let its glow pour into the stellar empty

Gone &

Crash the lights by which I

Was thrashed by a gang of my shadow

By which I

Saw your charm in the arms of another

By which I

Thought the things I thought tonight

On that yellow-splashed street, dying

Dhism

The first photoshopped monkey since the computer downtime. Creation is a good ol' time, aye?

Compliment Not This Nothing

The compliments

I

Kept to myself

So as not

to upset

Her herself

And ahead to distant kings she looked

she looked NOT to the nearby I

who shook

shook yes from keeping achingly so

the compliments I crush kept to myself

But hush, sick fool

Less I distress This Nothing

That I have with her now

And lose This Nothing

by saying out to yes neat she,

"You look nice tonight."

Computer ON

Facebook Status Update:

She lives! Computer on. Online communication back to normal. Where the wahines at?

[Bought another netbook charger to power up my tattered Eee PC. Hopefully it'll hold me over 'til I get to where I need to go somewhere on the other side of the Pacific.]

Hush What Isn't Wanted

To hush the mouth is easy

But to hush the mind is torture

And I've been told to keep hush

To hush what isn't wanted

When there's a grimace on my face

Know

It's from lifting tons upon tons

of the adoring thoughts unwanted to

Throw

Faraway from

Wherever you aren't

I can keep hush from uttering

the found happiness in your name

But to cuff my mind from smiling

Takes more effort than loosening sullen's choke

I'll war bliss from my mind

I'll wrestle joy from my heart

to forget the happiness in your name

Yes

You're welcome

Yeah I'll try, try

With a grimace on my face

Excuse me (sitting passenger side)

while I commit struggling

to the happy throwaway

Far

Faraway

From wherever you aren't

As I've been told

To keep hush

To hush what isn't wanted

One Smile from the Vast

Out of the vast, vast, vast, super-duper vast vast, vast, vast, vast, uGHvast, vast, vast, vast amount of girls that absolutely do not, have not, no never shall like me there exists just one - Yeah Just One! - girl who'll respond with a smile.

To that one girl I say . . .

"Out of the vast, vast, vast, vast, damn frickin' vast, vast, vast, vast, Holy Vastness Batman, vast, vast, vastitty vast-vast-vast amount of girls that rather not have anything to do with me, 'twas you who brought back a smile."

Then I too shall smile.

But that smile will divebomb into tepid consideration.

I worry shaking about the "it can't be" impossibility.

"This just can't be," I'll mutter terribly bothered. "Were you dropped on your head as a baby or something? What's wrong with you?!"

I Am the Monster with a Frown

If you're not the smile on my face then who are you? I can't possibly be thinking of anyone else.

I apologize for the fact that the simple thought of you makes me happy. They shouldn't have prescribed me Prozac back then. They could have just said, "Go talk to a girl, Blue Brain" and it would've have been fine, just fine and NOT this relationship catch-up I find myself violently tumbling in. My social retardation bears its heavy mark on me with a girl who absolutely refuses to let me recognize her incredible worth.

And as quiet as the days were before she

Rightfully so be it that my heart is hushed from

Beating the happy beat

I am the monster with a frown

Maybe the target is wrong? Or my bow skills are sorely, sorely lacking. Or maybe it's as simple as this? A monster should just find another monster to go Grrrr!! the town together with. As for now I'm on the outskirts sharpening tooth & claw, patting down my rags for the town raid that'll never be. I'm a real terrible bastard, ain't I?

So You Drank in Los Banos?

Whereabouts? Spent the past Saturday night, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday in Los Banos. The following was a message sent to J Buddha:

Got home 10:20 am this morning.

Yayo Buddha. Tried to, anyways. Unfortunately there wasn't even a buzz to be found; the liquor was just leftover raspberry vodka from Monday night - not nearly enough to get me "comfortable." Everybody had a bash drinking Monday but I sat out and slept because I was feeling blue. Come Tuesday night and I wanna slam the vodka down but everybody was so lax with taking their shots.

At least Sunday saw a drunk me. Ended up talking about a *girl as per usual, blehhh

It's nice to know you've been taking your meals. Woohoo! As for the boredom? I've been wondering . . . would you rather be bored OR have that guy who keeps trying to holler at you bother you? Oooh what be the lesser of two evils? Dun dun dunnnn! Heh.

AJ looks to be doing quite well. I picked him up, gave a quick check to see that he hasn't been running in the mud (he's clean ~thumbs up!~) and brought him inside and onto his bed. Just like last time though, he bounced right out and went stepping towards the backyard. Yep, he's out there with his bros again, playing.

How's your day so far, Buddha? Did boredom say hello? Give it "the bird" next time. Maybe it'll go away.

~Justin

[*note to self: sino pa? auuuuum . . . ]

This Isn't Your Song

You told me not to do
Dedicate words to you
And let the whole world know
How wonderful you are
Not something you would like
For that you'd leave my side
But we both know we were never together

Don't fret it's not your song
Don't have to sing along with me oh no
About how wonderful you are
And how you make me smile when you're around
Don't fret it's not your song
Don't have to sing along with me oh no
About how wonderful you are
But now the world knows this isn't your song woh oh oh

Won't even share your food
Because you know my mood
About tasting the
Foul touch of others
You know it's you I like
I'd share with you, that's right!
But you play keep away, no we'll never be together

Don't fret it's not your song
Don't have to sing along with me oh no
About how wonderful you are
And how you make me smile when you're around
Don't fret it's not your song
Don't have to sing along with me oh no
About how wonderful you are
But now the world knows this isn't your song woh oh oh

You said "No don't do this"
Woh oh oh
You said that I shouldn't praise your name
Woh oh oh
But hear, hear do know this
Woh oh oh
Now hear, hear it's a sweet cheer to know your name

But don't fret it's not your song
Don't have to sing along with me oh no
About how wonderful you are
And how you make me smile when you're around
Don't fret it's not your song
Don't have to sing along with me oh no
About how wonderful you are
But now the world knows this isn't your song woh oh oh

To Share the World and Its Feasts

I don't share food.

If somebody took a bite out of something or smacked lips with a beverage cup, I'm out. Do not ask if I'd like some. I don't know where your mouth has been, aye? Ask me to partake of your sandwich after you already made a loving chomp out of it after you spent happy time last night with your significant other making your loving chomps in bed then . . .

NO.

Nuh uh uh uh NOOO!!

What's the point, germaphobe?

It's an intimate act to be sharing food. Slopping over the King Eggroll take-out combo meal as a duet? During all the picking and chopsticking there's mouth-to-food-to-mouth contact there some-frickin'-where so NO I do not want to taste whoever it is you've been kissing, Baroness Shares-a-Lot.

No.

However . . .

when within sight is a girl I fancy in a brighter light above all the others, yayo I'll share food with her. Ooh yes please. Oh why thank you, dear. Wow this food really is good, aye? Since I've decided to share the world I see with you then yes let's tackle that value meal together, darling. I hope you like Dr. Pepper.

It's not a new idea. It's been with me for a long time. People are icky. As am I. I don't think you'd want my MoGo's half-eaten burrito if you knew where I've been. I've decided to pen this down now because of the events of yesterday morning with J Buddha on 4th day. On the way back to the house we did a drive-thru of Jack-in-the-Box where she ordered a Really Big Chicken Sandwich Combo and a funnel cake for dessert. At the kitchen table this whole personal issue of sharing food was brought up as she ate breakfast heartily. I've mentioned it to her before and she knows full well of my unpleasant regard for biting where someone has already bit or touched. Now modify that with Buddha's acknowledgement that I adore her and what do we get?

"If I was starving to death and I reeaaaaally needed food to eat to survive would ya-"

"Nope, well you're just going to starve then" says Girl Aum with a smirk.

Darn.

Buddha does share her food with others. She herself encourages it. "Can I have a curly fry?" I ask. "No" she replies with a gleeful head shake. Buddha does share her food with others - but not with me. Not even a crumb, oof. I joke with her I probably shouldn't have told her and could've been all sneaky ninja-like with a pretend casual bite out of a Really Big Chicken Sandwich but considering we've had in-depth conversations since before the admiration it was info previously confessed to her in trust and good faith.

Despite my yearning eagerness to share the world and its feasts with the fairy tale One Girl, to not be able to share food & drink with Girl Aum is something I find tremendously gratifying. Bollocks to the groceries - as long as I'm around her I don't think I'll ever starve. Physically. Spiritually. Yes Happily, Ever . . . O=P

No Jams with Girl Aum

"We're on our waaaay" flashes up on the Facebook chatbox. "We" being J Buddha and and her pup AJ. Vroom goes the BMW 9-something in the morning, on to intercept Girl Aum who carries all of AJ's accoutrements wrap-clasped in a big fluffy brown/tan dog bed. The thought of her walking alone down White with a Canine Supply Taco to the 613 flips me with an "Oh darn." So Vroom yes Vroom.

It's the 3rd consecutive day.

A week ago I was in the shits, trashbinned in blue by the vow of silence taken by Buddha for a perceived wrong I committed. I sent messages down her way, I did, playing face, being kind but she went heel and gave me quiet heat. Yup. Quiet heat. The worse "Oh what did I do?" kind. =( Ugh. No bueno. For a week of my life she was practically non-existent. A ghost whose cheer haunted my bedroom door. J Buddha's bright presence in my gloomy life flared away the shadows of being down. Yeep, she's that awesome. On a scale from 1-10, a profound 20. Now imagine that light gone. It's back in the dark, Señor Lacking. Except tragically worse because I knew how great she be.

Sometimes I think it would better if I didn't know Buddha. That way, she wouldn't be someone I care for a great deal . Someone I could lose. I could miss. I could be sad about.

Her jubilant face

When

She's tickled by delight

Stamped, after due-date

Delivered, only to fuzzy memory

No longer sent sweet fresh, yeah?

When

She looked to me - in the moment -

With a

Sparkle eye & smile+ bona fide

When J Buddha and I finally cleared things up it required the reveal of my feelings for her. I couldn't say it. I was frightened. I directed her towards my blog and she sat at the computer clicking, scrolling. Syllables paraded my affection in a procession whose pace was determined by her sight reading. I was nervous as I stood by. But it had to be done. Earlier in our reunion I moonsaulted into the deep end and shut myself off from communicating with her in the light manner that once was. I thought we could get by it. She said I changed. If I was to see her again it was either back to sleeping in my yellow room whenever she came around or say upfront that she's pretty darn cool, hah.

I told J Buddha her silence was the "longest week I've had this year."

"Really?"she said, bemused.

By then she dropped the dinner burn, her ire having faded away somewhere during her 7-day quiet and with my admiration freed I climbed out of the trashbin and went back dancing in the light of Girl Aum.

Drive.

I spot her on the sidewalk to my left. U-turn. "Good morning, Buddha."

AJ sleeps all lax on his bed un-taco'd, tucked cozily in beside a football pillow, blue ball, and a squeaky duck head. Buddha is at the kitchen table breakfasting on the barbecue chicken she eyed last night when she was here souping up her Pho take-out dinner. I sit at the table facing her more than the TV across from from us. I look at her inquisitively, my scrunched face unapparent to her as she eats with eyes set straight on the television. "Don't do it" she says without a skip. "Don't do what?" I ask, amused. She must have notice the unspoken change in

my demeanor. It's a certain aura of giddiness that overwhelms me when in the presence of a Whoa. "I'm not gonna compliment you, I'm just sitting here" says I with a follow-up defense. Somehow she stop-checked me before I even had the thought of the thought of saying she looks nice today. Dude, she's good.

Breakfast done, it's on to the car and on to work. It's an older model with a cassette tape player (Do you know what that is, kiddies?) In goes the wired cassette tape adapter connected to my mp3 player. It's only barely a touch through the music folders before Buddha chimes up again, "Don't do it." It must be my last night talk of asking permission to play suave with her if I were to drive her home. She said no with a sparkle and a bona fide and was instead brought home by Birthday Girl and her boyfriend. "Dohh" I get stop-checked again, now trance-like passing over the mp3 player to her. She probably thought I was going to play some Slow Jams. Suave mood music, aye? Hah.

"Did you write a song?" she asks, fiddling with the mp3 player looking for anything that isn't what I'm thinking of.

I reply, "For you? Well I've got a strummy bit I still need to put lyrics to I found it while you were still angry at me so the lyrics were going to be about that but then we're all cool now so it could be about that. Or I could combine the two and make a song of that?"

"No, Justin. No."

"How about a poem? Can I write poems about-"

"Noo." A snicker. A smirk. "Don't. You can't."

I says to her it's not like she reads the blog anyways so she wouldn't know of all the pretty little things I write about her. If I were to write about J Buddha. If I were to sing about Girl Aum. It's easy, girl. If you don't want the world to know how awesome you are just take your light away, yeah 20? Leave me back in the dark. I'll be okay. I think I might miss her though. Do know that she's guaranteed to be making somebody else happy. I just won't be beside her delight to write about it. For now, I'm blessed to be in her presence and I'll continue to pen the good word.

Just don't tell her it's about her.

About how great things are.

How great she be.

And how it's nice to know her, aye?

That Darn Bed

Given the act that was committed on that bed, I really shouldn't be sitting on it anymore. Curse curses to my visual way of thinking, yechhh. >=P

Ahhhhh crap.

heh.