July 27, 2008

What makes me think of you

I first got the inspiration to write this while I was brushing my teeth. You see, when I brush my teeth, I start thinking, and sometimes, I get into deep thought so I thought i'd come up with a list of things that remind me of people I know.

Ben M. - Wherever and whenever i'm in the back seat of a car wandering through the great wilderness, I can still remember the feeling of being in the back seat of your Subaru on its way up to Nevada. That sort of comfort one gets sitting in the back seat watching the driver and passenger in front. That reminds me of you.

Kevin P. - Broccoli. You'll find that cure for cancer in no time flat.

Filip N. - Lifeguarding and poles. For one, your dedication to the job is truly amazing. As a lifeguard myself, I am standing in the shadow of one of the best lifeguards I know. That means alot. The other lifeguards at work aren't exactly much to look up to.

Anna C. - Every time I look for inspiration to write, I always think of you. What superhuman powers and strengths you must create to produce works of art that come from deep within that amazing soul of yours. To spend a few moments with a miner's hat, a powerful flash light and a magnifying glass in a brain would be worth the treasure in the world. Getting to know and meet you over the past year has truly been a rewarding experience in itself. Whenever I cook, I also imagine: What would Anna Callahan do?

Anna H. - Every time I walk by the knife shop, go into the wilderness with only a roll of duct tape and a pair of scissors, I imagine I'm roughin' it with her. In the purest sense, she is more than capable of defending anything you put her in front of. So tough things in essential. The bull dog, the gun, etc. You all know it. She's the kind of person who'd rip a mountain lion in half, rip the pelt off and make it into a cape.

Mel A. - She truly epitomizes big things come in small packages. Not that i'm making any sort of jab at her, but I'm merely remarking, her big, monumentus attitude, the big changes and steps she has in mind, she really is someone who stands 19 feet tall and yet physically is nowhere near that mark. Another thing. All you can eat Buffets. No offense, but I would never be able to win at a eating contest against her.

Monica P. - The old, fashioned, hard working spirit of America makes me think of her. Whenever I see people churn butter or sew a quilt, I think of her. Why? Its the sort of thing that I would say (in my opinion) that the out and over spirit that America had exploring its country is the same thing about her. She's always one to encourage us to go out and beyond the reaches of comfort and make us realize, what we're really capable of.

Josh L. - Jews, Klezmer, Pastrami, Delis. Honestly, if I had never met this fellow Jew, I would have had to put myself in the loony bin. He's always been there for me, sometimes with a hug, sometimes with a middle finger.

Daniel C. - My former roommate, only did the few activities everyone saw. Eat, sleep, and play video games. Sometimes, he only did the last two. So whenever I see sleeping people or gamers, my mind kinda wanders over to an image of him doing those activities. Coming home to Unit 3 after a long day of classes and meetings, finding him there in front of the computer on DoTA.

Sara B. - Whenever I drive down International/E14th, I always can picture Sara. There's the guy pushing the little trolley with helado inside with the little bells and all. The gigantic store with the dead animals behind the glass, the blankets with images of tigers or the Raiders Logo imprinted on it. Basically the mexican part of Los Angeles.

Leighna B. - What comes to mind at first? The Cannon for one. But the Campanile also makes me think of her. She really did an amazing job on a gingerbread Campanile at the last christmas party I went to. I believe it was around until march or so.

Lindsay K. - Again, the Cannon. Runners, and the dedicated to the max. Every so often, you run into a person who has a hobby that isn't collecting or building with the hands. Its that hobby that keeps them fit and healthy. Like swimming or rowing. But she takes it to the max. She's taken running to the point where I would never in my life be able to catch up. Mad props for that, her dedication to the sport and her never wavering enthusiasm.

Ashley W. - Children. Whenever I see children, I think of Rally Comm's special Mommy. Energetic kids, smiling ones, happy ones, loud ones, ones that seem to flail alot. That's what make me think of her.

Nathan M. - Maps, Google maps, mapquest, yahoo maps, subway maps, urban planning in the quintessential form. I'm glad we shared the hobby and activity of building a city block by block. Even if it meant ripping out each other's work one block at a time. Although we may have gotten to each other's throats during our "Wurster Snaps", we really worked well together.

Cyrus H. - Domo kun, really random stuff, [insert really random stuff here]. Yes, we've had our moments. Bugging Sara with our fingers, doing other sorts of Schennanigans, yes, we had it all for fun.

Brian M. - LEDs. Need I say more?

Nic W. - Alcohol

Matt L. - Alcohol & Beer & Throwing Up

David L. - Whenever I see a hamster, I always can relate to David's little hamster Djokovo. And how at one point, his other hamster also gave birth to little hamsters as well.

Conor H. - Beards. Lumberjacks. Computers. Not three things you usually associate all together, but none the less, epitomized you in three words.

of course, last but not least

BriAnna W. - Everything that reminds me of you. What can I really put down? Literally, the world is convinced to constantly bombard me with thoughts of you and references to you. The Swedish lifeguard named Breeanna, moose, chocolate mousse, hair mousse, actual moose at the zoo, little stuffed moose, neo pets, stuffed animals, kids toys, hippos, sports, fair play, hockey, Canada. Sometimes, not all these things come up, but when they do, my face kinda melts and turns to thoughts of you. Every moment i've spent without you, i've never been free of reminders of you. Not that I ever want to be free. I'm glad they remind me that I have someone sweeter than cider waiting for me with outstretched arms.

So that's it. If you didn't make the list, i'm sorry D:

But those were the ones I thought of while brushing my teeth.

Life from couch to couch

I'm not the kind of guy, you usually see couch surfing. But when it comes to relations coming to visit, I'm always the one ending up to couch surf in my own house. My only satisfaction is that my room is still in one piece and not converted into some sort of lounge or library. Although, I would much rather see my room converted into a library more than anything.

Day one. Not that its a couch, my future mattress, destined for Berkeley is laid onto the floor of my brother's room where I first share my bindle. My brother makes way too much noise through his nose and mouth. Gah. But in the solace I found early in the morning, I could cuddle with my body pillow and only imagine who I wanted it to really be.

Day two. The mattress is moved out to berkeley where its sitting rather lopsided against my bed. So now, i'm without a home. I could have stayed in berkeley, but I guess I couldn't be bothered to then. I was rather impartial to having a really good fill for my tucker for the weekend. And I have to say, really good dinner.

But now, i'm without a home for real. I dont want to bunk up with my brother again. One thing, I couldn't stand the noise. So couches are the only option I have left. I've got the downstairs couch. Too small. The upstairs couch, too hard, or the family room couch. Ah, the house whore. I kid you not, everyone has had a chance to sit on that big comfy couch. Everyone i'm related to, everyone i've dated, and everyone I've been friends with and had been over. So around 40 asses in total or so.

It seems the best option. I might just have to take up on that offer...

July 25, 2008

Confessions of a Child Criminal

before you get the wrong idea about the title, its a story about me I remember that kinda just had a flash back on. So here goes:

When I was younger, my family loved exploring the natural beauty of the great state of California. Every summer, we loaded up the family car for a trip. I cant remember which trip specifically it happened on, but I'm going to say it was the trip to Utah. Yes, the great salt shaker state of Utah. Our journey first brought us south to Sequoia national park, then through Las Vegas, Hoover Dam, Zion and Bryce canyons in Utah, Las Vegas and back through Redwood state forest.

But our story starts on the last night of the trip. We were staying at gosh, what was it? A radisson inn or something. Really swanky. Each floor had a large lounge with cushy couches and fancy looking furniture. Even the TV entertainment center had the mini bar built into it rather than being separate from the TV. But since the bar was in it, they had to put a special child lock on it. While dad was showering, I thought I show how I, young little 6 year old Zach was capable of getting past the child lock.

A few words about the lock. It was a little plastic tab about an 1/8th inch in thickness and it was pushed down to release the catches on the door to reveal the tv. In my defense, it was flimsy. And the print was too small to read. Even though I could just barely read. It was simple instructions ok?!

Unsure whether to push or pull, I pulled and broke off the tab. I almost shit my pants at the moment. I started to get scared. My mother even joked, even though I didn't realize it at the moment, that the police would come arrest me if I didn't stop fooling around. You're 6. The police are coming for you. Holy shit.

When I got home safe and sound in Alameda, every time I heard police sirens, I always thought they were coming for me for being a bad boy.

Now all grown up, I respect the brave men in black and blue.

On a side note, on that trip at the supermarket, I had gotten one of those magic fish you put in your palm, and it curls and tells you your emotions. Back in the day when machines still gave out cool toys and not pieces of shit made in china.

July 22, 2008


Bars are no place for a minor. Especially one that's 12 years old. But that's the way kids are growing up nowadays. When I was a kid, that age, western civilization was just entering the year 2000. I was fucking scared of the apocalypse if Y2K was actually real. The only thing I was worried about was having to learn how to play guitar by candlelight. But the more I think about it, the more there needs to be a recession back into the dark, pitch black world of 150 years ago. There was a boom in industry, civilizations and countries could literally stand on their own. The threat of war always teetered, and there were big binds in social strata.

We call this a better time. For one thing, it is, but there's only so much now. Chemical warfare, genocide, automatic weapons, terrorism and political ideology. I think about it and I just go sick in the stomach. You may say: hey, there's really good things about life. Like Penicillin, civil rights, really really cheap charles Shaw wine. Yes, those are good things, but at what cost? There's now an even more resilliant bacteria that penicillin is ineffective to, there are dirty, old washed out hippies still fighting for civil rights, even though it was administered nearly forty years ago and the whole of Napa valley has in effect, been turned into a grape growing region, rather than the fertile fruit orchards and plantations it used to be.

When we get an idea, as Americans, we just capitalize on it. This hamburger is delicious. I will open another store, and another and another that sells it. Wow, we can grow grapes in Napa. Lets get rid of fruit and everything else. The diesel goes faster than the steam train. Lets scrap all steam trains and focus on the future. At what point does the future happen? It never can. We progress into the future, but we can never get there. Because once we reach that age where we're in shiny pants and floating cars, that would be the present and there would be yet another future to try and get to.

So I digress. Kids are growing up way too fast. They're looking forward to too many of the things you could do as adults. I for one am looking forward to the day I turn 21. But thats cause I'm 19. There's no reason for me not to yearn for a year to pass. But have you seen kids these days? They dress like 22 year old rappers. They much rather have sex than just hang out and ride bikes. I walked by my old middle school alma mata. I heard more cuss words than a rap album has. Fuck, there's not avoiding it now is there? I can sit on the local bus at closing hours of school and I hear talk of parties, potheads, beer and shit. That's stuff you dont want to hear coming out of some snot faced, brattish 16 year old.

Have you seen some of the girls around high schools? Yikes. I swear, the material from their clothes is being put into the clothing for boys. The baggier boys get, the skankier girls will get. A parka is a coat designed to keep your upper chest, and thighs warm. Not just your breasts. Then again, why would you wear a full length parka in the middle of summer? I get it, you're dysfunctional. Spending your year's coat money on something that's only ideal for summer. Fucking genius.

Kids dont dress the way they used to. People for one dont dress the way they used to. There's a slight trend going back to the way we used to live, but I can only assume when we'll be at the fullest point. There in essential are the three branches of the way we dress nowadays. Hipster, Hip Hopster, and everything else. A fourth branch exists called: Absurd. I hate trends.

Hipster: You can easily recgonize one. Do they wear clothes that are ill fitting? Do their clothes look like they were made back in the 70s but in reality were made two weeks ago by a chinese girl? Do they seem to wear really tight jeans, wear large framed sunglasses with bright plastic frames? Are they riding on a fixed gear bicycle with a narrow handle bar? Are they wearing a keffiyeh? if you answered yes to this, then you've got a hipster. Well educated, upper middle class kids with nothing better to do than to spend time away from their boring parents. They're seen with large shaggy haircuts and usually sport a beard (both sexes) and females are usually spotted in bland looking single colored clothes and bright leg spandex.

Hip Hopster: Found usually wearing street clothes like baggy jeans large enough for John Goodman's entire person to fit into just one leg, a tshirt so large, it could cover a car, a new-era hat that has been kept in pristine condition, shoes that are large for their unwieldy feet and a poor grasp of the english language. Yes, they multiplied after the big hip hop movement in the 90s and in the 2000s, their clothing style advanced with even baggier pants and baggier tshirts and baggier hoodies and baggier bags. They're usually spotted smoking a gross swisher, have an inability to grow a full face of hair and have close cropped haircuts.

Everyone Else: You wear a collared shirt, jeans and you're good to go. You might occasionally dabble in the other two, but this is basically how you dress. You wear a tshirt on lazy days and a shirt with stripes for formal occasions. That's the jist of it.

Absurd: You wear a purple thong and white botty shorts. You wear shoes that a clown would wear and have just really rancid looking stains on your jacket. You dont even try to make yourself look presentable.

Personal Notices:

Bri: I miss you. I'm still counting down the days. I've counted myself out and I wish I could use just my fingers to do so. I want to imagine and then live out the day you're back here (on the right side of California)

Sally: You still have yet to call again. You're getting lax about coming in earlier.

Sara: Yay!

July 21, 2008

Street signs

Another spontaneous story. Here goes :)

Dwight and I had and have been best buddies for the past three years. When we started college together, we chose each other as roommates. We got along, we didn't do stupid things and we always corrected each other's mistakes. We both were so alike in every way, people didn't understand that we were from different families, let alone different countries of heritage. He was Belgian-French, my background traced to Hungarian-Czech. The way we dressed, what programs we would watch on television, what to eat, was all alike in very similar ways. The only thing that we disagreed over was our taste in women. He preferred the seductive, mysterious mistress, whereas I wanted that long term, committed relationship. Long nights would be spent before he would re-appear with a new black haired woman with silly looking bangs and dark ruby red lipstick, and the next day, he would be with another new one.

He never complained that I was still with Denise. I never complained he went through women faster than cartons of milk. It worked out that way between us. Until the day Denise left me for another man. It left me absolutely devastated beyond anything and Dwight did his best to comfort me. Once, he even brought over another dark haired woman, who I had promptly turned down because for one thing, her ears were gauged. I never understood that. The necessity to make your ear lobes large enough to stick a carrot through.

I tried all my stomping grounds, The Graduate, Harmon's Pub, The Cave, Rawlie's, Kidd's, none of them were any good. They were usually populated by underage drinkers sneaking a few in, stupid looking frat guys with their even stupider looking sorority girlfriends. Every so often, there would be a really cute girl, but then she'd throw up and I'd walk away. I tried the cafes as well, but that did little. Everyone was nose deep in whatever texts they had lugged along with them by pack mule. The park was terrible, I had a can thrust into my face every time asking for spare change. I hated giving Alms.

Mason st. & Dentworth st.

It happened that day. It was inevitable. She was riding a bicycle and I knew, she would hit that pothole. You couldn't miss it, even if you tried. So I yelled to warn her, but the front wheel caught, and she flipped over the handlebars and landed on her back. I ran over to help.

"Are you all right?
"No. That fucking hurt.
"I'm really sorry that happened. I tried to warn you.
"Its all right, there's no way you could have prevented anyways.
"Do you need some ice or anything? I live just a block down.

She stared down at her ankle. It was swelling to the size of a navel orange.


Getting her up was no problem, getting her off that leg was no problem. Getting her and her bicycle to my apartment was. I trust, it must have been an awkward sight to behold. About half a block down, it dawned on me to have her sit on the bicycle as I guided it along the sidewalk to my place. I took her in, put the bicycle in the hall and turned back into the scout, bandaged her leg and elevated it.

"You took a really nasty spill back there you know.
"Yeah, I know it.
"Is there anything I can do to help you?
"Well, there is one thing, but I dont think you can.
"Try me then.
"Heh. OK. Kill my boyfriend.

I was momentarily taken aback by the crudeness of the command. I only returned her a blank stare and gave her a look that kinda passed the message "really? You want me to do that?"

"I'm dead serious.
"You are?
"Look, that motherfucker, jerkwad of a boyfriend banged my best friend, took her to Mexico, abandoned her there, came back, punched my father and ran over my cat.
"That's alot to swallow. Look we just met. I cant take out a contract like this.
"Look, i'm sorry. This... its been a really hard time ok? I mean, I dont know what to do. My life is going down the hole and I really cant just...

She broke into tears. The bag of ice slid off her leg and crashed to the floor with a brattle. She didn't seem like the kind of girl to get involved with at the moment. After that 'fiasco' I dropped her off at the University Health Center, and put her out of mind.

Harmon St. & Boles Ave.

I do my shopping at a little grocery store on Boles Ave. It's run by the guy who the street is named after. Mr. Frederick John Boles. He apparently is one of the cornerstones of my university's city. And I suppose, a few years ago, the city council with nothing better to do, and with a burning pocket of money, renamed the street from Hassock to Boles. Whatever or whoever was Hassock, I may never know. But it was at the little grocery store that I met the next girl.

She had a cart full of groceries, like most pretty girls, she was wearing a sorority sweatshirt with the letters, Alpha Nu. I figured since she was in sweat pants, it would say the same thing on her ass as well. As she passed by, I took a quick glance to confirm my hypothesis. It did. Except it said PINK on her ass. I snickered at the thought of anything written on anyone's asses. Especially the Dean's.

What happened next, I will never know. As soon as I snickered, she appeared in front of me, hands on hips with an angry look in her eyes.

"What's funny?
"Nothing is not funny. What were you looking at?
"Your ass.

A Slap to the face set me right.

"Serves you right pervert!
"No. It made me think of other asses.

Another slap.

"Look, let me rephrase that. I saw your ass and thought of Dean Hustlinger's Ass.

Another glancing blow to my face.

"No, I was thinking about words on his ass

I think that slap was a little softer than the previous one.

"Ok look. Looook. I was thinking about how it looks funny to have letters on the seat of your pants, then I thought of letters on the seat of Dean Hustlinger's pants and tried to imagine what it would say.
"Well, I would imagine DEAN

I was taken aback by this much more humane response. I tried to give a little chuckle, but failed even at that.

"You know, I'm really sorry about the way I behaved earlier. Forgive me?

She stuck out her hand. Was I supposed to kiss it or shake it? I kinda held it for a second and let go of it. That seemed the right thing to do.

"What's your name? You're kinda cute you know that?
"Well, I dont give my name and number out willy nilly. I'm not that kinda guy.
"Well, i'm that kinda girl what wants it.
"I'm not convinced after all those slaps earlier.
"You want me to slap you again? I'll do it. I'm so into that kinky shit.

I only stared blankly at her then turned away leaving her to her shopping.

Huron St. & Atlas St.

My last class of the day is just off a building hidden on the block of Huron and Atlas. Inside Chesapeake Hall, I sit and listen to my economics lecture, slide off to sleep then wake up in a Farsi lecture. Three hours after my lecture ended. I really ought to figure out what lectures are in between Econ and Farsi. I've picked up on some new vocabulary dealing with acreages, land grants and dry weights.

But one econ class was different. I usually sat in the back row, but today, it was populated by all the hipsters who sat asleep already behind their large plastic sunglasses. Very clever douche bags. So I had to find a seat up front and lo and behold, I had to sit next to the one kid in class who cannot, for the life of her, stop asking the professor in depth questions (the kind of question reserved for discussion). As soon as I sat down and put my head behind the binder, she raised her hand. Her loud nasal voice was earshattering. It was like listening to a Tom Carvel ice cream ad played at high speed.

"Professor! Why would we need to measure ekonomical resource strata in modern situations as opposed to a few years back when they can reflect more on the trend?

I wanted to duct tape her mouth shut.

"Professor! The national trend rests at 4.3% But we as Americans, we live above that trend and at least try to double it. Why as a collective group do we even bother?

Now I wanted to punch her. I shut my eyes harder and put my pencil's erasers into my ears. The questions seemed to be less and less relevant as the hour chugged along.

"Professor! Professor! Lets say for example, if you buy stocks of hello kitty and my friend buys stocks in Badtz-Maru, What would be the direct resultant of Hello Kitty to that?

Oh my god. I wanted to kill her now. Only this stupid looking asian girl ever bring up shitty toy references. I grinned as the professor shrugged off the question and resumed lecturing.

"You're a jackass you know. You dont know shit!

came a whisper.

"Yea? You're a loud mouth who cant keep her mouth shut.

At this point, the professor threw the chalk duster at her. I smiled in accomplishment as I stared back into the white stripe looking at me.

"I'll get my boyfriend to kick your ass!
"In what? DDR?
"Oooh you get it now!

She stood and started hitting me with her handbag. A hello kitty mirror fell out along with some other girly things. The head GSI obviously annoyed by the new disturbance threw her out. As he did, the entire auditorium burst into applause.

Mason st. & Delaware ave.

Home. I live on 2282 Mason street in a little two bedroom apartment with Dwight. The past few days have been hectic and I had been just coming home, sleeping, then leaving. The apartment was dark when I entered. I was fooled for a second. A glance of light snuck in between the blinds as I walked by. On the couch was Denise. She was wearing a red nightie. I nearly fell back in shock.

"Aren't you with someone else?
"I never was. I didn't want to tell you I had to go to New York on an emergency. I knew you always tried to tag along when I had to go, so I made that story up.
"But... Why? I was actually searching for another person to date.
"I know. But I also know your methods and it takes you way too long to find someone else.
"But that was a dirty trick to do!
"I had to do it somehow.

I only gave her a blank stare, and sat next to her. I guess I preferred it this way over heh... bicycle girl, sorority girl or asian loudmouth. I'm done searching. Denise is just right.

July 20, 2008


Hello! When I want to post, I post, so I feel a post coming on.

I started wearing a neckerchief. Why?

I have no damn clue.

July 04, 2008

300: Bri

Hullo Bri!

And the rest of you readers.

I apologize for my lack of updating. I'm worse than www.mononthefly.blogspot.com nowadays. I can look back at my archives and note, the amount of posts I have made this year is equivalent to one month last year. So here goes.

For all of you who are either totally clueless, blind (no offense) or deaf, I am in a relationship with a really beautiful, smart, funny and one of a kind girl. When I'm around her, my body takes a beating. But for me, every scratch, burn and cut is well worth it. She's made her mark upon me. I swear.

Real quick. I really wanted to do this:


I know you're reading this. It may take awhile for you to notice, but we'll see. Anyways. I am up here in Clearlake, California. For some of you, that's above Calistoga. For those of you who have no idea where Calistoga is, its above Yountville. Yountville is above Napa, and so on and so on and so on. There's not much to do, I left my laptop in Berkeley. I really wished I had brought it with me, but there was no way in hell, I was going to leave it on the pool deck or in the locker room. Even if it was locked up.

Personal Messages:

Anna Harvey & Lindsay King: Have fun up in Yountville. The show that was supposed to happen here at Clearlake was cancelled. I wish I could be down there to see your show, but bleh.

Bmoun: come back soon.

My Bri: I await your return. Every day I look at the calendar I know it edges and counts down closer As of this upcoming sunday, it will be exactly one month until you return! As cheesy as that may seem, I really miss you. Every day is a day of torture, until you return. I long for your arms. My bed is small, and the best sized bed is one the same size of your arms. I love you for who you are. I cannot contain all my passions for you. Return soon, and safely.