she needs her friend to date someone new because someone new will have new friends

I will not use my blog to personally attack people. Even those on my list of enemies. My enemies list can be found hidden in a book in my room. It is handwritten in pencil on rice paper. If it ever needs to be destroyed it could be dissolved quite easily in a liquid substance. At least I am consistently amused at my own devices. A weird coincidence...tomorrow I have to go to my former's birthday party and have forced interactions with her new sleepover buddy/dtr/man lover and I'm not jumping for joy as much as I'm rolling my eyes like I just missed muni. At the same time I've been listening to 'A Dustland Fairytale' at least three times a day. It's easily my favorite song right now. So I post 'ready for the showdown,' a snippet of one of the lyrics, as my gchat status message. Make sense so far? Exactly. And then, a few minutes ago, my former's best friend, a woman given to always knowing better then you, gchats me asking 'seriously'? It took me a few lines to figure out she thought my status message was about tomorrow night. Apparently she felt I was implying sleepover buddy/dtr/man lover and myself might be headed to a showdown. A competition of olympic style events to determine a winner of some prize. Sprinting and falling out of control, general trivia and misnomers, automobile maintenance and advance knowledge of the Geneva Convention, baking cookies and organic chemistry, Mercury in retrograde and the benefits of VORP, difficult karaoke songs and knot tying; amongst other events. Obviously. If I'd know there was going to be a showdown I would have done some push ups or had a girl iron a shirt for me. It's never a good thing to show up rumpled. Or bedraggled. But yes, the 714 will again emerge victorious. There will be no showdown, just beers, hateful code talk, girls that love the taste and hundred dollar bills. It's a sigh for the end days. Sigh.

Beep Beep.

A Dustland Fairytale - The Kil...

mother of god....it's....it's....it's.....freddy sanchez ?

The Giants and I are involved. We're lovers. We fight and then get back together. Sometimes late at night I flip through the 2002 media guide and remember that brief heady October where everything nearly fell into place. I can hear Jon Miller's call of Kenny Lofton singling home David Bell. And then, the wilderness years, the heartbreak in 2003, Steve Finley's grand slam and faking joy watching Barry Bonds overtake Henry Aaron. It was a false joy and left a bitter taste, the team sacrificed so much for so little. And then 2008 and the Lincecum Cy Young, Panda emerging, it all felt like we were on the verge of at least being fun again. Today the Giants open a four game series with the World Champion Phillies. They just traded a serious prospect for Freddy Sanchez. Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain are both legitimate Cy Young candidates. The bullpen is solid. Panda Sandoval could conceivably win the batting title. Crowds are returning to the yard. I had a beer the other night and watched Lincecum strike out 15. The beer was delicious. The buzz in the bleachers was contagious. I'm remembering what it feels like to really passionately care about a team. The joy is back and sometimes the heartache that can follow. I'm nervous for the weekend, nervous that our hitting will be over matched and our starters won't be quite perfect. There are so many questions to be resolved, so many stories to be finished. It is so exciting to know that all the games to the final weekend might mean something.

go giants. thanks for reminding what it feels like to really love a team.

rounding up ponies

Last night I caltrained down to Redwood City to have dinner with an old and very remarkable friend. This guy and I navigated the SCU social justice social circles together and always found a way to laugh a little more then those around us. It helped that neither of us were from traditionally liberal environments and both came from large and complex families. SCU wouldn't have been the same without him but unfortunately we fell out of touch after I graduated and last night was our first in person meeting in over three years. As I rode down on the train I tried to catalog all the old stories we could retell if we suddenly had nothing to say. Thankfully and perhaps expectantly we instantly fell back into the old rapport, the old patterns. The night before I went to the Giants game with a friend I see at least three times a week. Our ability to get along and interact has been long established. I wasn't sitting on Muni trying to remember stories to tell as much as I was pounding Muni sodas and playing sudoku on my phone. So I had two nights, with two different friends, one I never see and one I see frequently, and had a great time with both. Two very different situations and two very good nights. For as much as I complain...and this week I've been complaining frequently...I've been blessed with good people in my life. We'll call this my positive blog of the week. Tomorrow I'll try to make sense of my San Francisco Giants obsession and complete fear that trading away Tim Alderson will unravel my life and leave me penniless and perhaps dead.

it is a disposal of our shared culture

I tried telling her I was sorry for the lie I had kept repeating. As lies go it was big and it was small. I'm easy about lies, I learned how when I was young and I didn't want either parent to know what the other said. The lie...'I was only sleeping with her.' The reason...'it kept her protected.' Well, it did. As lies go it was an easy one and easy to justify. Protecting her and her feelings was always what I considered most important. There is this thing I did that I hadn't done before, not with a woman, not with anyone. See this: I believed she'd never hurt me and that no matter what she'd have my back. Perhaps it was the circumstances of my life when we first met, I was loose and afloat but at the same time drowning under my mistakes and a few days away from losing my home and grip on life. Out of nowhere she saved me and helped me hold it all together. With that she went on a pedestal and I let her circle me with her love, affection and constant and unwavering support. For a longer time then anyone expected everything worked and even after the us quit there was still a supportive we. It used to be we spoke on the phone 3 or 4 times a day, saying hello, saying goodbye. Our group of friends was small but lovingly established. Our families knew each other and spoke warmly about our friendship. When the fall finally came I was shocked by her actions. They weren't anything remarkable by most standards but this woman was on a pedestal I'd never managed to dissemble. And now I realize that I was the problem. Just because someone acted one way for a period time gave me no right to predict those same actions forever. So what did I learn in losing this friendship? All lessons I already knew and next time I'm going to apply everything I know and all my distrust to everyone I meet and especially those few women I ever fall in love with. This fucked me up, the great equalization between those that had treated me poorly and the girl that I thought never would. Mistakes, as I like to say, were made. The lies for protection, the truth I'll never share, hope for a different future and all that time together only got us pained gchat conversations, hurt feelings and a distinct and seemingly total break in our once strong friendship.

Thanks Rickey

No athlete has made me as consistently happy as Rickey Henderson. My first memory of the first baseball game I attended was watching Rickey hit a lead off home run.

For a good sampling of Rickey quotes and anecdotes check out this Chronicle feature.

And yes, there is nothing I'm more excited for this weekend then his hall of fame induction speech. I'm already giggling.

getting younger, moving faster

Some men spend their nights hiding in the dark and mad about stolen hearts...and they make music and try to sound like Elliott Smith. He had the biggest balls in the world and they can barely sing. I'm into it though, the new dynamics in my life. This magical internet where everyone pokes all around and snoops...yeah, I got a fucking twitter page and a few followers and few folks that I'm sure just click through hoping for a tweet about where I sleep or who I'm fucking (alone and anyone lucky). And yet, I'll always remember that discretion is the better part of valor. I've been living deep secrets for years, maybe since I first pushed zoe r. against her locker and kissed her for a 1o count, her relationship with her man was never the same and what the fuck did I care if I was right or wrong? I kissed the girl I wanted to kiss, a secret of course and with discretion but when I saw her the next day in biology her little sheepish smile was perfect. I've been stealing girls away, dating out of my league and mixing it up for years and this summer, this summer of quiet...it isn't quiet, it's being discreet. Beep beep.

treading water almost boiled

It's a question I grapple with frequently...

How much is appropriate for me to write about my parents?

See, they are bleeding me dry and leave me constantly exhausted. Both are sick, physically and mentally. Neither of them are able to provide anything resembling adequate support towards my life. Neither of them have the tools needed to pursue their own individual goals or happiness. Their lives are both a series of crises, always dramatic and frequently exacerbated by alcohol abuse. They make me afraid of every midnight phone call and keep me from spending my money or enjoying my life as thoroughly as I should. And yet, I love both of them and am deeply indebted. I can't turn and walk away, I can only grind my teeth and hope for some different way, different lives, different options...but what I'm really hoping for is for them to have lived differently and been other people and the past, it can't be changed or arranged, they are here, both as my anchor and as anchors I fight against. SO...I want to write about them specifically but it feels unfair and perhaps negatively voyeuristic. Fucking hell.

I sometimes wonder who I am. So much has happened this past year. So much good and so much bad. My family and love life has been dramatic and unfortunately occasionally negative. (With my family being more negative and my love life more dramatic) People I've trusted with my emotional well being have kicked me around. And I think I'm ok with everything and have forgiven those that have hurt me. But at the same time I wonder if I've taken the steps needed to safeguard myself and my heart...if I've really healed or just moved forward. An issue put on the shelf isn't a fully resolved issue. I've got so many questions that will never be answered and so many people in my life that can't explain why things happened the way that they have. And this makes me wonder if I'm strong, durable, able to thrive when most would barely survive or if I'm just standing with my finger in the dyke, soon to be overwhelmed and washed away.

a series of blows to the body

Nothing makes me feel more lousy then cutting shifts and taking money from my employees pockets. That's all for today. More tomorrow. Or maybe tonight.

oh...if Tim Lincecum keeps giving up a run in the first inning I'm going to be distinctly sad and potentially crushed.

sad face bem.

odds and ends

Last night I managed to take three cabs. Three! In all my years in San Francisco I've never been less capable of timing and catching the bus. Three cabs, three drivers, three fares, three tips and three days I'll be going without lunch money.

Two hours ago I began trying to understand and plan all of the logistics involved with attending the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. The tournament is a year away and I'm bewildered. The working man is trying to be the thinking man and the thinking man makes a plan but this might be a little bit over my head. Tickets for matches have to be purchased now, flights should be purchased in six months and I've got not the faintest clue about on the ground accommodations. South Africa is kind of a big country and it will also apparently be winter. Winter! In the summer!

Tonight I'm going to meet friends before seeing The Pains of Being Pure at Heart at the Rickshaw Stop. Several months ago I heard or saw something about them and got their album from emusic. It pretty much instantly became the soundtrack to my life. And then, low and behold, they are playing tonight. It'll just be the five of us, hanging out, some introductions being made, good friends and romance and I'm excited. Excitement is good, excitement is grand.

And lastly...go buy Dave Eggers new book, Zeitoun. Not many books are strong enough to make me blow past my normal BART station...but this one did this morning. As excited as I am for the show tonight and eventually seeing the World Cup, I am just as thrilled to shortly get off work and be able to get back into the book.

5-2

In the end it was an easy win. I scored a goal and banged my knee pretty good. When I swung my legs out of bed this morning I nearly collapsed onto the ground and that is never a good thing. Yumyumyumyumyum....percoset!

It's been suggested I take a thousand dollars and go with friends to Tahoe to shoot craps all weekend. It's a shaky idea at best but I love gambling. Liiiikkkeeeee. I looooovvvveeee to gamble.

Ah fuck it, I'm going home.

hands on knees, loading it up again and again

Big game tonight. For reasons unknown I've been riding a hot streak the past week. Things have been falling into place just as I'd have liked them to do. Even my romantic turmoil has felt insignificant in the face of such good luck. So, about tonight, we're playing a team that several members of my team used to be a part of. We splintered off from them when it became clear they didn't have any use for me except as an occasional substitute. As it went, that was kind of insulting, so my friends and I bailed to form Team Tangos. Soccer games already mean more to me then they should, in my mind tonight is a very big deal. With injuries and other obligations factored in we are going to be playing a little short handed but that will only make our inevitable victory all the more sweet. I'm seeing a 3-2 final score and then later I'll give myself a beer shower in my steam shower and maybe hoot and holler or just sing country western songs to myself.

beep beep

got em!

hey, hey, the working woman!

awkward and enchanted

Monday night I trained it down the peninsula for a reunion dinner for the group that I first visited El Salvador with in March 2001. Regrettably, or perhaps predictably, I had fallen out of touch with most of the group. A little facebook action here and a returned email there was never sufficient to carrying the emotional bonds we all shared. Our 10 days in the campo were the 10 most influential days of my life. It was only a fluke that I ended up selected for the trip and I can say with confidence had I not been selected nothing in my life would be the same. In January 2001 I was 16 weeks into my freshman year at SCU and miserable. Nothing was clicking like I had hoped, academically I was successful but I was having a difficult time socially. The culture shock was significant, I had never considered how different I'd feel attending one of the wealthiest schools on the west coast while coming from a lower middle class environment. I had some good friends but I always felt a distance, it wasn't like I had much to chime in when everyone was discussing the respective desirability of second homes in Tahoe or Newport Beach. Soooo. I was ready to transfer when I saw a poster in Benson advertising a spring break immersion trip to El Salvador. I applied, wasn't selected, someone else dropped and then I was invited. We had our first group meeting in a room in campus ministry and I was suddenly surrounded by people unlike anyone else I'd met at SCU. The instant warmth and affection within the group gave me a sense of community that got me through that first year. Monday night was an extension of that same sense of community. It didn't take long for us to fall back into the same jokes and same roles within the group. I will always be the quiet and reflective one with the most cutting questions and I know who would always make us laugh and who could tell when someone needed a hug or a few minutes away from the moment. That's all we had for our 10 days, moment after intense moment. I'm at a loss to try and explain how my life was transformed that week or at least what happened in El Salvador. The members of my group, friends I'll cherish forever, were just as important in that personal transformation. I went from feeling lost and unimportant to having a sense of belonging and the intellectual and emotional respect of the most brilliant group I'd ever been associated with. To this day I get chills thinking about what we accomplished, the way we changed SCU, the way we put the pressure on the UCA to treat campesino students fairly. I get chills thinking about all of us sharing our life stories and breaking down the barriers between ourselves and the community we lived in. Even with the years that have passed I know these friends will always be special to me. Monday night was special, as we sat outside in the warm twilight; eating, drinking and laughing, telling old stories, passing around Es Bueno's beautiful baby boy; I felt myself slipping past everything that has happened this year. The family drama, my convoluted love life, professional strife and everything else...it felt distant and manageable. Everything might not be quite right but it was once right and can be made right again. When we flipped through the photos some of us had brought it was amazing the way we were all hanging all over each other, like kittens sharing a basket. That closeness was so fucking right and thinking about it gives me hope that this life of mine is going to be alright.

to the three...

...young men speaking Russian and playing music on the inbound Forest Hill muni platform...

thanks, you got me moving right along.

i got a bounce in my step...

there is a little humm baby going on today. things are happening, the future is arriving...just a little humm baby.

and there is this...

thanks ms. powell!

it's 714 day (a blog for the dozens of women who will never be the same)

adam, ben, brian, bruce, jim, nate, ricky, robin

five years later...

still fucking it, still cutting em up.

that was a special night

I left my house Friday night, headed out to the social ramble and content with the Giants 7-0 lead. Jonathan Sanchez was dealing and I was happy to see him look good, both for his trade value and in the unit's absence. 45 minutes later I was sitting in a dark restaurant with only one muted tv rather inexplicably tuned to the MLB network. I was pleased with the distraction in case my meal went south and then stunned to see them cut live to ATT Park as the same Jonathan Sanchez was three outs away from a no hitter. So Edgar went to his right, Aaron climbed the wall and then one wicked curve ball ended the affair. It's a 100% guarantee...no matter what happens, I'll remember Friday night for the rest of my life, where I was, who I was with, what we talked about and the final perfect three outs. When Sanchez hugged his dad in the dugout (who was watching his son start a MLB game for the first time!) I teared up just a bit and my heart beat a little faster. Something special is happening here and Friday night was a part of it all.

xavier g

I can still remember the names and faces of most of the clients who passed through the adolescent drug and alcohol rehabilitation center where I worked from 2005-2007. That was a group of several hundred young men. Of those there is a smaller group of clients that I remember especially well, either because I mentored them, they ran an especially good program or for some other reason. In late 2006 we got an SF county client, all of 14 years old and he might well have been a feral child. Xavier G. was a boy in every sense of the word but believed he had to be a man to survive. I watched him stand and glare in meetings and saw him laugh at cartoons. We told him that if he kept on the path he was on he'd end up murdered or in jail. None of that clicked. The duality presented within his contrasting persona's was consistently fascinating; Xavier had been raised so poorly and for so long that he didn't know how not to steal and at the same time he hoarded snacks and treats like he might never be fed again. Of course, there had been years where he was barely fed. I lost touch with him when I left that job but I kind of always new I'd hear about him again and I knew it would not be pleasant.

Xavier G was murdered a little past 11 pm this past Friday night.

A cursory search of SFGate turned up this photograph of Xavier at age six:



The article this appears with can be found here.

RIP

the middle of the night. sex as electricity. sex as currency.

Yes, baby yes, yes yes, again and again. Keep the heels, lose the dress. Electric skin arches backs and you're backed against the wall. Roll and turn and fight, always a fight, your pleasure in the middle of mine and we'll circle back to the start and start again. Again. Always again.

the truth is a razor blade you're chewing

and now, for all my new readers dialed in via twitter tweeter bird...

an unofficial guide to my commonly used gchat and blogger phrases

and an extra special treat...

surprise guy reading 'cut pieces' on his surprise phone:




see you on the streets, see you at the greek, see you at the yard, see you everywhere you see me.

two birds in my room

The opening game of the summer season started promising as Team Tangos mounted consistent pressure on Where's the Beer?, generating several excellent scoring chances while largely controlling possession. To their chagrin Team Tangos gave up a goal late in the first half on a 50/50 header off the six yard line from a corner kick. The second half was largely dominated by Where's the Beer?, who used their superior fitness to attack again and again before scoring on a far post header from a corner kick. Team Tangos was largely fatigued and suffering from uncharacteristically bad touch and the game seemed lost. With under 7 minutes to play Team Tangos got on the board when team newcomer Ty got loose on a corner kick and scored on a far post header. With new life Team Tangos pressed forward, increasing their offensive pressure. This risk payed off when Michelle played a diagonal pass forward to Bruce who beat his defender right, cut to goal and blasted home the equalizer from 8 yards. The game ended in a 2-2 draw, with both teams craving an additional few minutes to properly settle the matter. Team Tangos took a certain satisfaction from battling back late and will look to build on that momentum going into their blood match with Team Filthy Feet next week.

it's a street fight

Soccer as an expression of my irrepressible personality.

Yes, that's it. And the soccer as an expression of everything perfect and possible. It's just a bit more Eduardo Galeano writing in Soccer in the Sun and Shadow that the perfect kiss would like the be unique. My most perfect kiss was unique, but that is a story for another time as it was only a kiss that was not only a kiss. But back to soccer. We play tonight and I got my dorothy's sitting under my desk catching my eye every now and then. It'll feel good to run and be with my team. I last played three weeks ago, the same night I got the letter that started the split that got me to restart this blog as a way to process some of the ways my life has been changed. We had playoffs that night and I was terrible, my touch was nonexistent and I couldn't get my head into the game. We lost 2-1 and the main reasons was my inability to convert chances. Suffice to say, losing the game and getting splitsvilled the same night was an emotional burden. The last three weeks have been the emotional equivilant of sticking my hand in a thresher and every day I've thought about starting another season and getting back some of what I lost that night. I'm now more fit and in a better place to be playing well. My head is back and close to straight. My heart is still beating and with some clarity. Like I said, it'll be good to get back out and run. I could barely sleep last night, I was up late and then up early thinking about the game and counting my blessings...coffee in the morning, flirting with girls in dark corner booths, having chances to take and friends to call when everything falls apart or when everything is coming back together.

not a bad gchatting afternoon...

It's always fun to talk to a girl on gchat about the first time you had sex with her. In this case the memories were certainly pleasant, the chemistry was instant and intense. We were like starved and caged animals set loose. But yeah, I was making Anchorman jokes in my head as I pulled her clothes off...

Boy...that escalated quickly...I mean, that really got out of hand fast.

See, it's about levity when you're suddenly and shockingly naked with someone the first time.

And also, I admitted to her that when I pulled off my initial move, the move that got the whole thing rolling down hill...I 100% thought 'bing bang boom, got em!' and I might have even thrown out a Kurt Gibson style fist pump. In a darkened bar...clearly.

My past amuses me, I've had some great adventures because I don't mind embracing the surreal. And with the running dialog in my own head I always have something to laugh about. But hey, beyond that, in the future it won't be 'bing bang boom, got em!'...I'll just look at whatever naked body is naked next to mine and think...

beep. beep.

the scarf in my closet

I was sitting at lunch earlier today reading Vanity Fair and trying to figure out how much I still don't know about the world around me when I blinked twice and suddenly had to acknowledge how far I am from where I want to be. The past two weeks have beaten the shit out of me but I'm still here and I can see a way to what I want. The people in my way will not have a chance if I can find the right way to focus my energy and take positive steps towards the goals I have. Lately I've been thinking about how tough my dad was during all the years he was alone, raising my brother and I and struggling to keep our lives together. Whenever he was in doubt and everything seemed darkest he'd again and again turn to his faith and find a way to get through. The part of me interested in history and the past can call on numerous stories of bravery, fidelity, toughness, duty and honor. The past sits as dozens of examples of all the best (and worst) of the human existence and ability to survive even the darkest times. And yet, it would be inappropriate for me to reach into the larger past when I can reach into my own history and see examples of all the qualities I listed above. My dad was perfect and perfectly flawed but he never fucking backed down. In writing all of this I am attempting to draw strength and find faith, it isn't as simple as putting the words down but it is a step towards where I want to be, who I want to be, who I want to be with and how I can put the pieces of my life together and be a stronger and better person towards those that I love the most. I know who I love the most. I'm getting better, stronger and while the first steps are tentative...I am moving towards this better future.

Alone/together.

watching the clock, waiting for 1:30.

Go get em baby. You're the best, bright and brilliant, and that fucking job is going to be yours.

it's just another little band ripping off a sound they can't understand

She said...tell me about the band.

And I said what can I say, I don't much know about that music business besides what I heard from my friend: prominent blogger. Or my friend: up and coming talented manager with a gold and platinum record under his belt. Or my friend: years and years in the indie jungle trying to make it happen. Or maybe just all the conversations I've listened in on or that communications minor or my time at KSCU or just being an active listener to music. So maybe I know a little something.

So I told her after the qualifiers, notions of my own ignorance and with absolute certainty...this band, the band being talked about, isn't very good and they aren't really going anywhere and they are all old enough to know they didn't make it and that's pretty cool. So no, I can't say anything positive, not this time, I'd rather listen to The Stone Roses for the millionth time or perhaps jam my ears with cotton and arsenic and hide from that obviously lifted sound and half assed attempts at relevancy. But hey, points for trying. It wouldn't be a scene without background for others to stand out against.

a novel, no...

In response to two separate inquiries from two very different people...

A novel, no.

Everything I've been writing about recently has been based in a true story. I've been asked repeatedly to avoid incriminating and other details so I can't really get into what happened with my most recent relationship outside of the broad basics. The details, delicious and surprising as they might be, simply can't yet be revealed in this space. The broad basics are as follows:

I met someone and we unexpectedly fell for each other. Our relationship abruptly ended. She quickly got back with her ex boyfriend. The fallout continues. Our relationship was as organic and natural as any I've ever experienced. Nothing was ever forced and while we had conflict it was always clear we had something truly special. When she left me, quickly, I felt like someone had suddenly taken my eyes from my head, I was blinded and surprised and surprised some more. When she got back with her ex things actually made sense in the context of her life, where she is, where he is and the type of relationship her and I had. Either way, together or apart, cmc is someone I care for a great deal, I'm going to have plenty more to write about this, what happened, how her and I fell in love and everything else but much of it will exist between these lines until I can write everything properly and as they say...close the book on the time her and I smiled at each other all the time like young lovers in love.

surprise guy holding chopsticks

it's 4th of July time

All my daily readers might even be taking a few days off from daily reading. Or, you know, for my readers in love with my prose...the constant and obsessive desire to click refresh, over and over. And over and over.

I'm actually full of shit. If anyone besides me and a few giggling friends is reading this...I'd be surprise guy. Remember surprise guy? That's the dude that can see the truth but still needs the lies. I loved surprise guy. I used to go around drawing him in weird places. A stick figure with a triangle head and a smirking sideways smile. He was surprise guy. Later on I'll post a photo.

More July 4th goodness to come.

ernest hemingway never had a blog

When I wrote professionally and for academia I consciously tried to emulate Ernest Hemingway. A paper was never done until I'd read through it and cut out every single unnecessary word. Hemingway developed his sparse style because he was charged by the word for the stories and journalism he telegraphed home from Europe. Blogs encourage overwriting and I'm assuming the google servers can handle whatever I put up here. If I rewrote War and Peace it'd just be a long load for slower web browsers.

And so, if I applied the Hemingway style to 'Lost in the Smog' we'd be left with this:

she said if she saw me she would have to lie.

Just as devastating and at such a reduced per word price...