A Cold is a Virus

A cold is a virus

sipping my marxian ethics

apocalyptic notions

vague transcendentalism

mcdonalds

costco

sipping vodka

from a mason

jar

shes poetry

and she sits in a bathroom

without a robe

like a spider without

a bite

for fucks sake

hashtag: social

alien

nation

jerking off

to post war critique

the other

half and half from a cow

whatever

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Just a moment…on the validity of American Naturalism and the secret lives of their American sons and daughters.

As we get closer to our goal I am reminded of a past where I could chart a course and never thin the payoff. Every reward was fat and handsome. Time was sterile and obsolete. I never understood hesitation or doubt. It never made any sense to me and it sure as hell never got anybody anywhere. The only road ahead was shrouded in a haze. The fog so dense that it hid things inside of it: Secrets. Secrets could make a man crazy, turn a womans head, and bring thriving empires to their knees. Secrets raided man’s fear of god and in turn swept a chilling cold over the landscape. I never cared much for secrets. One man’s secret is another man’s dead end. “Ain’t no use in turnin’ over stones ‘less you’re gonna build the empire state building under ‘em, mh’m”, my grandpop used to say. The idea seemed quite ridiculous, but I could muster enough courage to ask him how many stones I’d have to turn over before grandmom  told me to come inside before I catch cold. “The pieces all fit together in the shape of a puzzle” he went on and on about laying foundations, pouring concrete, measuring reinforcement wire and the lot. I never really gave a damn, ‘cept to say that my grandpop was the meanest toughest son ofa gun that ever did pick a shovel up off the dirt and call it his.

There’s a quote I read once that said “fuck quotations, what do you think?” or something like that – anyway, I believe the great American naturalist Ralph Waldo Emerson said it. I realized after reading it that I’d spent too much time on the internet, but what really stuck out to me was the fact that Emerson didn’t catch his own mistake. A man makes an obscenely bold statement about not listening to famous thinker’s quotations and expects people to not see the hypocrisy. Emerson was either a genius or an idiot with a pen because deliberately leaving a blindspot in your own argument can mean many different things. For instance, it could mean that Emerson thought that the human race had reached a particular climax of human ‘achievement’, ‘wonder’ or otherwise awe-inspiring civility OR it could just mean that he had the tenacity to don himself as a thinker who would be quoted albeit with some foreshadow, adding a certain dramatic flair to his life and separating himself from the survivalist nature of Thoreau. Why should he pivot in the opposite direction? Probably because people were beginning to pin the two thinkers together who merely lived at the same time period and shared many similar interests, beliefs, transgressions, etc AND he couldn’t bare to have HIS ideas blended, as it were, with the ideas of another man. The thought alone probably left him in a cold sweat and with a painful headache. However, the same could not be said of Thoreau who went to some other more painstaking, death defying obstacles to clear his name of any other syllogism with like minded thinkers. One stuck to the profane the other to the mundane perhaps, but neither will we know the truth because as we understand history and “American themes” we clump many white boys together under the umbrella of naturalism and throw a sugar coating of existentialism for good measure when in fact we are dealing with, or rather, they were dealing with the principles of owning property and being a vote-casting, tobacco chewing citizen of the United States Gov’t (all in good fun). Where else would we have understood the importance of civil disobedience. As we cross the boundary, the humanistic elements of said characters come into the spotlight. They were in search of what makes a man a man. A man – a human being with a penis who may come in many different colors and who more often than not shaves his face, among other places on his body, and indulges in the politics of freedom. When a slave is no longer a slave, but a man with a purse and a coat pocket, time piece and a tobacco pipe, he is bound to question his freedom and the limitations therein. John Adams was a free man, a lawyer, wealthy and a subject of the crown. He did not indulge in the politics of freedom quite like Thoreau or Emerson, because he was all too familiar with the reality of slavery, the crown, etc,etc. However, Thoreau, in his moss hut, sucking back boiled water and frogs legs, descended upon an idea that could move institutions and people alike. He guided his pen into questioning the validity of the government. To break the government down just enough to ask if the wording really included the stamp of an imaginary man in the sky. Does god really have the final say? If us mere humans refuse the birth child of 30 or so men, will god come down and punish us? Tough to say… I think for the most part it is irrational to believe that practicing one’s civil duties would result in feedback, negative or otherwise from an imaginary person. Having said that, I think we can legitimately attest negative consequences of our actions on earth to other earthly matter such as the hell bent souls of ignorant and brave individuals, as well as the trade winds and natural disasters including but not limited to brush fires and hurricanes. Whatever the case maybe, American life is simply too great a series of occurrences to pin on one person – be he alive, dead or living in the stucco walls of my airbnb. Furthermore, the U.S. government was created for one sole purpose: to make more money off of the slave and tobacco trade. Adieu! My good sirs’!

 

Gobble Dee Boop

John was rough. Some nights he picked fights. Others, he smashed a glass bottle against his neighbors wall shouting ‘fuck’ at the top of his lungs. One time he smashed a bottle against a man’s head and hurt him real bad. The man bled out of the top of his head like a volcano- got driven to the hospital and stitched up, and that was that. John never apologized. He said, apologies never stick. I went with him to the baseball game one night, and we sat in the nose bleeds. The crowd was quiet. It was 0-1 us at the bottom of the sixth, and I heard the peanut vendor behind me give a good yell to a man sitting by himself. The man looked beaten up, like a bum. He wore a marlins cap, and we didn’t even play the marlins. He chucked a dollar at the vendor and gestured for his peanut bag. All around us were empty seats. I wanted to ask him if he wanted to sit with us, but I knew that would make John upset. John didn’t like many people, except for a few. He liked me, and Jenny, but that was it. Jenny was his girlfriend. She had dark brown hair and really pretty eyes, like looking at a tiger or a hyena or something. She worked at the mini mart down the street. People liked her, especially John. They were probably gonna get married. I couldn’t say for sure, but something told me that John was in some deep trouble. The past few nights he wasn’t his normal self. He just sat there fidgeting, while we watched tv and joked around. Sometimes Jenny would look over but he just sat there staring off into outer space. I wonder what he was thinking about. Probably nothing at all. John was good at figuring people out, but he wasn’t some genius or something. I said good night to John and drove Jenny home. The car was freezing cold when we got in, outside it was 40 or so. There was frost on the windshield, and Jennys breath turned snow white when she coughed. I wanted to ask her about John, but it was too cold and I was too tired. Jenny lived with her folks in a condo by the park. Her room had a view of the playground. I stayed there one night, after she threw a party when her folks left for hawaii. John didn’t go. That was back when they didn’t always get along that well, and John was always getting jealous of her other guy friends. Not me, because I’m too young. But Jenny was always popular with the opposite sex. John just stayed in his room punching his bag those nights. I pulled up to the door and let her out. she gave me a kiss on the cheek and said see you later. She didn’t usually kiss me on the cheek. She seemed awfully cheerful lately, even with John an all. The school year was coming to an end. Jenny didn’t have any college plans. Neither did John. They were probably just gonna stick around like everyone else in town except for maybe two people who made it into state.

The World is a Strange Place

Late in 2015 I decided to make a very bold move towards a particular nameless woman. This woman (whose identity will not be revealed) currently resides in New York City. I hadn’t talked to this woman in sometime and so I went ahead and strapped my bootstraps on, and made a very blatant show of desire for her over social media. At that time, she had been taking strides with a particular gentlemen for a time of about 3 years, give or take. I had always had a strong passion for this woman. She’s elegant, sophisticated, playful and ambitious. Her boyfriend on the other hand seemed a bit off. Though he seemed like a good fit, there was a childish evil in his face that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. So, after sending her pokes and harmless messages on snapchat, I decided to wait until she came to San Diego to make a very public gesture of friendliness. However, before that happened, things got a little strange. Her first visit, she was bombarded with invitations on her insta and I couldn’t quite get a chance to invite her out. So I had to wait until her next visit which was about 6 months later. During this time, I started to feel a strange paranoia that I was being followed. I don’t have any history of paranoia or schitzo episodes so I knew that something was off. I started to receive very strange telephone calls to my home, from unknown numbers that sounded like gunshots. I also received strange emails and blank vans started to appear parked near my house. I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything but any idiot would be keen enough to know that it had to do with her disgruntled boyfriend. I knew he came from money; that would explain a lot, but the scale and power of hiring people to follow me and watch my every move was something sinister. I then concluded that he was connected to a powerful underground organization; either the cosa nostra or the cartel. I became interested in his reach of surveillance and paranoia and thereafter concluded that his father was a very powerful englishman involved in illegal trade organizations. I became frightened; terrified to be perfectly honest. I decided to lay low for a while and enrolled in a teacher training program that placed me in Santee, California where they couldn’t find me. I clenched my teeth in that program until my gums bled; Not only did I have an aversion to the small town isolationist NRAism of Santee, but I couldn’t stand to see my pride held down by some rich punk kid of a human trafficking dynasty. I became befuddled. I was beside myself trying to figure out how to get back into my normal rhythms while sticking the middle finger to this onslaught of dirty wealth and power. I stood my ground, fought through the fear and returned to regular life.

It was during this time that they broke up. I took a job at amazon and waited for my sweet darling to return to San Diego. She went to LA. I couldn’t believe it. There I was, waging war against the evil head of underground human indecency and wrath, and my little angel was boarded up in LA with equally abysmal debutants. I knew that if I came for her, his henchman would’ve gunned me down on that lonely strip of highway between here and LA. I couldn’t bear to delete myself without having seen her again in the warmth. I gritted my teeth again, this time chipping my teeth and nursing a festering wound in my heart and in my pride. I became sullen and my thoughts became grotesque and rampant with madness. The vans increased in number and my website suddenly crashed. All I wanted to was to see her face again.

 

To be continued…

What do Pirates eat for breakfast?

Pirates!

Not to be confused with music enthusiasts with half a brain.

I’m talking about the ol’ skull and crossbones stock.

A bit of background *ahem*: Spain’s Charles II was ill and o his death bed so naturally the European powers were forced to think about how would get control of Spains land. So, Charles II’s daughters , who would ordinarly have claim , had waivered the right by marrying sons of Leopold (Holy Roman Emporer) and Louis XIV. Now that left everyone in a bit of a bind. So, A treaty of partition of offered to grant The French strategic areas in Italy as well as spanish netherlands and a few other places while Leopold would get Everything else.

that didn’t sit too well with leopold, as he needed those italian points (notably milan) to protect his southern flank from the ever present Ottomans. So he denied the agreement and Charles II named the grandson of Louis XIV to take the title as the would be heirs reclaimed right to the French throne.

Well, this pissed of the English because they already don’t like france very much, and even less when in control of the entire spanish empire. So, pretty much everyone was pretty upset about this french-spanish tryst and the english teamed up with the dutch to settle the score. Germans saw an opportunity to take back alsace and lorreine, and Leopold I just kinda hung out and whatever.

The Spanish needed to protect their resources and France was a cheap ally, but cheap allies don’t come free.

SO, WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH PIRATES?????

well, the English signed a bunch of letters of marque to seafaring mercenaries during this time, and a bunch of them ended up in the west indies, naturally, and became PIRATES.

The Spanish needed protected their Florida and Caribbean investments. England needed to protect their colonies from the creepin’ French in the north.

Pirates were the tobacco ash in the greatest chess game the world has ever played.

In the first few weeks of the voyage, pirates would eat eggs, fish, meat, fruits, veggies, whatever. They would even combine all of it to make Salmagundi. When that ran out, they’d turn to salted or pickled meat and eventually sea biscuits or hard tack with and without weevils.

And when that ran out, they ate bone soup (broth made from bones from sea turtles or whatever they could find).

The pirates life was also a homosocial one, particularly comprised of young men. So, it might not have been uncommon for a pirate and his mate to eat each other’s cum or ass.

 

(INSERT MON ON MAN ASS EATING HERE) EXPLICIT HONTENT MY READERSHIP IS ALL AGES THANK YOU

The pirates life was no all inclusive resort, but then again, it never is.

 

 

Dating Post-Trumptopia

 

So, I recently had the pleasure of seeing someone I met online a few more times. She’s psych major at a local university and for whatever reason, doesn’t agree with conspiracy theorists on the subject of 9-11. She thinks it’s “too farfetched”.

We met on Okcupid and normally I use tinder for casual dating but Okcupid seemed like a safe bet. She hadn’t answered her personality questions so I had to dig deep when asking her about herself. “So what do you do for fun?” I asked. Trying to sound cool, as I’d posted all of my pics wearing sunglasses and hypothetically in “wealthy looking” establishments.

“I’m super busy with school right now, but I usually just sit in bed watching crime dramas”

“crime dramas” I thought, what a concept. I sort of grew up in a crime drama, if you’ll believe it. My father was a defense attorney for the better half of his life, and when I was young he used to take me on road trips up the coast of California telling me all about his knucklehead clients.

“meth is the devil’s drug” he would say.

Now, contrary to my facial appearance, I never got the chance to do meth. If my father’s job accomplished anything, it kept me off meth.

So, one of benefits of okcupid is that it combs for many personal details. It’s basically a dating background check in an app. I love this feature because it allows me to poke and prod about anything that they leave up for grabs. So, under the drugs category, she’d put never.

I can’t trust anyone who puts ‘never’ under anything. They are either lying, or just very boring. But, I digress; we were talking about “crime dramas”. Oh yes, okay.

So, I’d asked her if she’d seen The Killing, which happens to be one of my sister’s favorite series. She replied no, that she watched a show that I’d never heard of.

In point of face, it didn’t really matter what she said, because I was just trying to get laid. She responded that she was usually busy during the week but liked to go out on weekends. I said, okay, that sounds good.

I always say, sounds good, but I never mean it. I don’t make enough salary to say ‘that sounds good’.

So, there I was, some horny twenty something, a blaring cliche, typing dribble into a chatroom. And there she was, stone faced, and dark skinned. And she smelled of roses. Something about her was overdone. I couldn’t tell if it was her make-up, or the color of her eyebrows. It might’ve been the dullness of her smile. Or the perfect alignment of her unstained teeth. Whatever it was, was not doing it for me. But I took her out anyway.

So, late one afternoon I came by her apartment complex in midtown and took her for a ride to La Mesa where we waltzed through guitar center. I told her I needed to pick up a few things there, and she seemed interested. We stopped by the drum shop for a brief second and I jammed out some beats. I think she was impressed.

I kind wanted to keep it short and sweet, so I took her to Baskin Robbins and bought us both an ice cream cone. I got gold medal ribbon and she got something with the word raspberry in it. I felt like I was 7 years old sitting the park with my friends. It was great.

As the night winded down, she stayed in Baskin Robbins talking about our previous relationships and what we wanted to do with our lives. She told me she wanted to teach college one day. I told her that I wanted to do the same. And right then and there, I felt a rush of adrenaline and had to excuse myself to make a phone call.

I didn’t have to make a call, but I didn’t want to say something totally idiotic because how often do you meet someone that so closely matches your interests. It totally reminded me of that song ‘fake love’ by Drake, because I knew she didn’t love me (we’d only just met), but the way she was telling me about her dreams was like she was trying to show me ‘fake love’.

I walked back in the store and told her that my mom called to tell me that I had to go home and take my whites out of the washer. She obliged, and I dropped her off back at her home. As I stopped the car in front of her house, and could smell the perfume in her autumn brown hair as she stepped out of my car. “bye david, I had a good time”.

“Bye” I said. “I’ll call you”.  And this time, I really meant it.

Let me hear you say eh

“Eh” the sound one makes when debating the frivolities of casual dining.

“hows the avocado?”

“eh”

tenor.gif

 

So, I’ve had the pleasure of casually dining out in San Diego. I haven’t been disappointed so much as “eh’d”. It takes a certain imagination to cook, and it takes the same amount to eat. That being said, I’ve developed a short list of great foods to try in San Diego.

fmj

Middle Eastern food. Yes, where else would you find great middle eastern food than next to the largest naval base in the county. This is by no mistake. San Diego has a very large Caldean population, as well as several other middle easterners (I wont go into details), but there are a handful of select restaurants that provide great service, ambience and of course, food.

 

 

My mom and I took my dad out to a place called Aladdin’s on Clairemont Mesa Blvd for fathers day and it was all of our first time eating there. My mom ordered a meat sampler that was absolutely delicious. And my dad ordered a big sampler that came with all sorts of appetizers and finger foods. I ordered the shrimp pesto pizza because I just really felt like eating pizza. In any event, the food was great. The fried foods were particularly tasty and the clientele seemed to be a mix of regular customers and big family gatherings.

 

So, if I was a tourist I would definitely try to get my hands on some lamb from a middle eastern restaurant. Lamb is great and tastes even better. For the vegetarian boyfriend who wears a Keffiyah, I would go for anything eggplant. Yes. Okay.

eggplant-mYZIDM

Apart from middle eastern food, I might also try the fish. San Diego has great fish (it is after all a coastal city). The fish market is one my favorites, but a lesser known and also great place is Point Loma seafood. Any kind of “northern” fish food (crab, salmon, mussels) are gonna be well worth the wait. My personal favorite are salmon locks. Some people eat them on bagels with cream cheese; for me, I just go for the basic bread and butter. Tastes great, and smells even better.

Tim-Salmon-Angels-Baseball

Of course, do not forget about Mexican Cuisine. Now, there are obviously different kinds of Mexican, like southwest, southern Mexican and taco shop Mexican. So, for southwest, I’d probably venture to old town- they are the “ambassadors” so to speak of southwest history in San Diego and keep it real with that old conquistador sentiment. For southern Mexican, you’d probably have to board up with a transplant family from Chiapas, but if you cant manage that, I would probably venture to yelp because Southern Mexican cuisine is hard to find, but it tastes great. Next, taco shops are a dime a dozen, but if you’re feeling adventurous you could cross the border and spend some cash on street tacos. Also, chains like Cotixan or Roberto’s are usually just fine. Taco shops are going to have giant menus full of stuff that sounds similar so I would suggest: a wet burrito, rolled tacos, milanesa (if they have it), or chile relleno. Yes.

commandante

Lastly, you’re probably going to want some weird experimental food – or maybe not – so to play it safe but still maintain a sense of weirdness, I would go with some kind of fusion sushi restaurant. The best sushi in San Diego is a place in National City in the strip mall off of Sweetwater road, I believe it’s called Hanaoka. Anyway, great place, they have teriyaki this, dragon roll that. If I was you, I would get any roll with eel in it. Eel is weird and tastes great.

ursula

 

 

I know I said that was it for the short list, but I just want to add one more

😬

The indigo grill in little Italy is one of my favorite restaurants. They have excellent “southwest” style food. “Good things Growing” has a mix of southwest style squash, corn salsa, a chipotle tamale and a few other really tasty items that as soon as you start eatin’ you’ll be callin’ the waiter Geronimo and throwing out Apache phrases in no time. Did I mention their cocktail list is JUST as mouth watering? Damn it, I suppose they don’t call it a spoiler alert for nothing. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

 

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