After Martin Luther King Jr., after Harvey Milk, after John Fitzgerald Kennedy there was Kurt Cobain, Bradley Nowell, Notorious B.I.G and Tupac. These were a new breed of musicians and entertainers that inspired us to make music with great messages behind the lyrics. Their struggles have been immortalized in their music, which has the shelf-life of a twinky and endless entertainment value. Although individuals such as John Fitzgerald Kennedy and Abraham Lincoln were truly exceptional as far as civil rights leaders go, their predecessors (today's heroes) touch hearts, change minds and inspire souls through lyrics and music. Their music was often relatable and sometimes even helpful at times of great crisis. Most important of all, they showed us how to have fun and enjoy the good things in life as well as share in our discontent with the things that suck.
I have replaced the idea of God with the image of those who have earned my respect and admiration for years. Let there be no confusion, though I don't worship these men, they have still been a continuing source of inspiration for me. When I praise their talent with my thoughts, I think about the things they have said that have affected me the most. A tough day calls for Kurt Cobain to come to my rescue. Biggie Smalls gets the job done right, when I'm in the mood for inspiring lyrics. Brad Nowell from Sublime is the best selection for a fun time! The biggest misconception of all, is that these brilliant lyricists only appeal to the young and the rebellious, but in truth, the music only appeals to those with an opened mind. I know of a few people from "the older generations" who can appreciate Tupac and Bradley Nowell as well. This, to me, is a clear sign that music is a genre of its own that brings people of different age groups and cultures together.
I may not have the most extensive Sublime collection, I may not have a Nirvana poster and I most certainly do not possess every Tupac CD, but the posters, the autographed drumsticks and even the CD's themselves don't have as much importance as the appreciation for talent does (this may seem like a hypocritical comment to make, but living in the 21st century means having access to free music like Grooveshark.com for example). It is rare and quite exceptional for a certain band, artist, singer or rapper to maintain a reputation long after the performer is dead and gone (and Frank Sinatra would be a good example of this too), but some artists have survived the test of time, sometimes even a few decades after their music would have otherwise been rendered irrelevant to the times. Yet, this is not unusual for music that is credited as being not only "good", but also profound on some level. Although I cannot say for sure wether or not these idolized lyricists will survive the test of time for another few decades, I can say that I am faithful that the ones I've mentioned in this blog will be one of the few relevant artists in the future. Hopefully, their legacy will survive another ten or twenty years at least, but as I like to say, no one is remembered forever. The only thing we can be sure of is that two-hundred years from now, no one will remember the name Kurt Cobain or Biggie Smalls. On a final note, it is very tempting to say that some of the bigger names in the music industry will never be rivaled and that they are a special few in history, but truthfully, I believe others will show the same inspiration in their craft of music making and slowly make their way to the top just as the God-like figures in today's music. I have yet to find anything up to date and relevant that has earned my respect, but my heart and ears are always opened for the ones who know what they are doing.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Disaster Vacation
Sometimes, things don't work out the way we want them to. The past five days have been a perfect example of this, and the best way to summarize my misfortune are two words "The Cold". As mundane and unexceptional as having a simple cold sounds, it is surprisingly newsworthy. Six days ago, I woke up in the early morning hours on a Thursday, feeling tired, empty, bored, irritable and mostly sad. The night before had taken a toll on my weary soul and so for a change of pace, I decided to go to Hooter's for breakfast. Normally I like to go to Mcdonald's for a Mcgriddle or some hash browns and a mocha, but on this particular morning I wanted to break away from the beaten path that was (and still is) my routine. I remember waking up that morning, feeling groggy like someone had beaten me over the head with a blunt object. My initial goal that morning (as with every previous morning) was to make my way to the kitchen table and sit down to let my head clear. After begrudgingly swallowing my morning pills and sitting back down for an additional fifteen minutes, I asked my dad if I could borrow his van. When he asked me where, I told him I wanted to go to Hooter's. With that, he handed me his keys along with the forty dollars he owed me and I was on my way.
After about ten minutes of driving, I finally arrived in the parking lot where Hooter's was. Before I went to Hooter's, I decided to go to the Circle K corner store, which is located in the same parking lot. Once I made my way into the corner store, I pulled out some of my money to buy another three packs of cigarettes. I was about to buy my usual Pall Malls when I realized that there was another brand I had never heard of called "Crowns". The Crowns cigarettes were about the same price, so I decide to buy those instead. After buying my cigarettes, I walked over to Hooter's, picked a seat to sit down in and ordered a coffee and some mozzarella sticks. It was a very comfortable environment; there were beautiful women, great music and one of my favorite shows was playing on one of the five TV's in the restaurant. I'm normally not a big fan of Hooter's food, as a matter of fact, I don't like their food. However, my stomach was hungry, my pockets were deep in cash and the environment was perfect. So I ordered the mozzerella sticks anyway, regardless of my taste aversion to their food. The coffee was the first thing to come out. I enjoyed sipping it and staring at the TV while the soothing morning sun massaged my back through the window. Once my meal arrived, the grubbing was on. As soon as I bit into and tried to swallow one of the deep fried cheese sticks, I started to gag and gasp for air. There was no napkin to spit into and since I didn't want to be rude or embarrass myself, I managed to force the breaded grease cheese down my throat anyway.
After a few minutes of attempting to swallow the cheese sticks, I quickly discovered a choke-proof strategy for eating my fast food. I sat there, mesmerized by my favorite show while sipping my coffee now and again. Taking in the beauty of the place and the serenity that I could not seem to find anywhere else. After I paid for my meal, I left promptly and drove home, feeling refreshed and relaxed. Once I got home, I decided to start smoking. It wasn't until the afternoon hours that I asked my dad if I could use the garage to smoke in. Since the weather happened to be terrible at the time, he agreed to let me kick it in the garage while listening to my favorite rock radio station. I spent the rest of the day there, and when I finally finished, I put my hookah, cigars and dip away for later. About an hour after I finished up in the garage, I started experiencing strange cold symptoms. I had an irritating stuffy nose, clogged ears like the hoover dam and a cough like a hippy with a hangover trying not to puke. Over the next couple of days, my symptoms intensified. After three days of nightmarish coughing, nose blowing and chest pains, it seemed as though the worst part was over.
It was a little over two days ago that I was told my parents were planning a trip to the city of Glenwood Springs, which is well-known for its naturally warm and purified river water where people can bathe. Unfortunately, just yesterday I was informed that if I did not improve by today, that the trip would be canceled and rescheduled. Today, I'm feeling alright but not the best. I'm hoping I'm healthy enough to let this trip happen, as I feel I'm in need of more vacation days.
After about ten minutes of driving, I finally arrived in the parking lot where Hooter's was. Before I went to Hooter's, I decided to go to the Circle K corner store, which is located in the same parking lot. Once I made my way into the corner store, I pulled out some of my money to buy another three packs of cigarettes. I was about to buy my usual Pall Malls when I realized that there was another brand I had never heard of called "Crowns". The Crowns cigarettes were about the same price, so I decide to buy those instead. After buying my cigarettes, I walked over to Hooter's, picked a seat to sit down in and ordered a coffee and some mozzarella sticks. It was a very comfortable environment; there were beautiful women, great music and one of my favorite shows was playing on one of the five TV's in the restaurant. I'm normally not a big fan of Hooter's food, as a matter of fact, I don't like their food. However, my stomach was hungry, my pockets were deep in cash and the environment was perfect. So I ordered the mozzerella sticks anyway, regardless of my taste aversion to their food. The coffee was the first thing to come out. I enjoyed sipping it and staring at the TV while the soothing morning sun massaged my back through the window. Once my meal arrived, the grubbing was on. As soon as I bit into and tried to swallow one of the deep fried cheese sticks, I started to gag and gasp for air. There was no napkin to spit into and since I didn't want to be rude or embarrass myself, I managed to force the breaded grease cheese down my throat anyway.
After a few minutes of attempting to swallow the cheese sticks, I quickly discovered a choke-proof strategy for eating my fast food. I sat there, mesmerized by my favorite show while sipping my coffee now and again. Taking in the beauty of the place and the serenity that I could not seem to find anywhere else. After I paid for my meal, I left promptly and drove home, feeling refreshed and relaxed. Once I got home, I decided to start smoking. It wasn't until the afternoon hours that I asked my dad if I could use the garage to smoke in. Since the weather happened to be terrible at the time, he agreed to let me kick it in the garage while listening to my favorite rock radio station. I spent the rest of the day there, and when I finally finished, I put my hookah, cigars and dip away for later. About an hour after I finished up in the garage, I started experiencing strange cold symptoms. I had an irritating stuffy nose, clogged ears like the hoover dam and a cough like a hippy with a hangover trying not to puke. Over the next couple of days, my symptoms intensified. After three days of nightmarish coughing, nose blowing and chest pains, it seemed as though the worst part was over.
It was a little over two days ago that I was told my parents were planning a trip to the city of Glenwood Springs, which is well-known for its naturally warm and purified river water where people can bathe. Unfortunately, just yesterday I was informed that if I did not improve by today, that the trip would be canceled and rescheduled. Today, I'm feeling alright but not the best. I'm hoping I'm healthy enough to let this trip happen, as I feel I'm in need of more vacation days.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
I Have A Dream
I have a dream, a dream that every man and woman in the United States of America will be able to enjoy blunts in a hot tub and drink Coronas without fear of arrest at the same time in the same tub. I have a dream that I will be able to gather with friends in said hot tub and smoke weed and drink beer from the early morning hours until the cold moon rises at midnight. There's a stoner in all of us, which deserves to see the light of day. Once we "come out of the closet" about our cannabisexuality, we can embrace who we are and not hide our true selves! As a bisexual man myself, I feel LGBT should be LGBTC in honor of those who have been condemned and discriminated against about their attraction to Cannabis. What we as legal citizens of the U.S decide to do in our bedrooms (and homes, and friend's homes, and girlfriend's homes, and boyfriend's homes, and hot tubs, and living rooms, and bathrooms, and pornos, and parties, and clubs) is no one's business but our own!
When conservative christians tell us "you cannot smoke a weed as you would smoke a cigarette!", realize that they are trying to keep us down! Do not let their bigotry keep you from your right to practice your sexuality. I've had it up to here like those friends of mine that nag me for not drinking underage beer, but I can't afford it in this stage of my life cause I'm trying to get that record expunged from that three year tantrum that's still going on. I can't get level headed when I'm drowning under a lake of societal pressures, tied to a cinder block like Jason in Crystal lake. Just trying to stay afloat above the high stakes. I lack the dare devil character traits from the personality to the polite formalities but I never go out like a bitch, I prefer to go out like a prick.
When conservative christians tell us "you cannot smoke a weed as you would smoke a cigarette!", realize that they are trying to keep us down! Do not let their bigotry keep you from your right to practice your sexuality. I've had it up to here like those friends of mine that nag me for not drinking underage beer, but I can't afford it in this stage of my life cause I'm trying to get that record expunged from that three year tantrum that's still going on. I can't get level headed when I'm drowning under a lake of societal pressures, tied to a cinder block like Jason in Crystal lake. Just trying to stay afloat above the high stakes. I lack the dare devil character traits from the personality to the polite formalities but I never go out like a bitch, I prefer to go out like a prick.
Partial Paradise
Half-Assed and incomplete, headed towards a partial paradise in Dave's car, on the streets. I'm enrolled in this program that works like a school and I'm told it's gonna pay off "real soon". I get to B.H Inc. early on a Wednesday morning. I climb out of my dad's turquoise Mazda with my infantile blue book bag, and I invite myself into the building where Amanda, Diego and Dave are sitting. They greet me in a friendly manner as I greet them back with fisties. An agonizing forty-five minutes trolls by before we leave. By the time Dave and I make our way to his truck in the small parking lot, I am oddly excited to go to the YMCA. I throw my bag and coat into the trunk of his truck and than climb into the passenger's seat; ready to talk, ready to listen to classic hip hop, ready to get some breakfast to eat! We always have great conversations, listening to and talking about Public Enemy, Gang Starr, Snoop Dogg and Ultramagnetic MC's (and sometimes a little Jay-Z). Dave is the homie I never had, very laid back and never gets mad. I often wish I could smoke some cigs with him, but I know he's not into smoking anymore, in fact he told me how he quit and switched to Coors, but he quit that too so there's not much in the way of addiction for us to share.
Dave and I always look forward to hot tubbing it in the YMCA and admittedly it's always my favorite part (besides discussing hip hop). I find myself wishing I could bring some cigarettes, but the program is too G-rated to allow that, so I just kick back and relax. The way the hot tub warms me up and massages my back, makes me feel like a king on crack. Cigarettes in a hot tub are a dream come true, so is dip in a hot tub too. I don't think I will ever own a hot tub of my own, so I just keep dreaming. This paradise is not ideal but it's 5/10 of the way there. Twenty years of life and it seems like I'll never get there. At least I can see the mountains out the windows when I'm tubbing it. Too many people around for my taste, but I'm gonna continue living and keeping the faith.
Dave and I always look forward to hot tubbing it in the YMCA and admittedly it's always my favorite part (besides discussing hip hop). I find myself wishing I could bring some cigarettes, but the program is too G-rated to allow that, so I just kick back and relax. The way the hot tub warms me up and massages my back, makes me feel like a king on crack. Cigarettes in a hot tub are a dream come true, so is dip in a hot tub too. I don't think I will ever own a hot tub of my own, so I just keep dreaming. This paradise is not ideal but it's 5/10 of the way there. Twenty years of life and it seems like I'll never get there. At least I can see the mountains out the windows when I'm tubbing it. Too many people around for my taste, but I'm gonna continue living and keeping the faith.
Rising Mist In The Sunshine
Headphones blaring reggae music as the morning sun heats the wooden dance floor of the deck in my backyard. Sitting down in the king sized chair with my wild, curly facial hair. I feel another song coming on on my iPod. The morning sun feels bright and I feel the light shine through the mist as I smoke and spit. The next song feels so right, when it's Let's Go Get Stoned by Sublime. 45 minutes of smoking pleasure on the hookah pipe, reset the clock with another hookah coal and the atmosphere is just right. Bradley Nowell sings to me the stoner's lullaby. Days and nights spent with Kurt Cobain, Biggie Smalls and Sublime; right here right now there's no such impediment as time. There's nothing more frustrating the appointments wasting my time, twenty years old don't even have a job, who cares about being productive? I'm going to be busy my whole life so I figure I might as well sit down and finish my cigarette while I have the time.
Eighteen years to get where I am today and my pay comes in the form of dip, smokes and porn. Not a satisfying payoff, I thought for sure I'd be much further along when I finally got here. All my friends are busy at their jobs, in college, with their families and their other friends. I'm lonely, watching the mountains as they take me back to simpler times; I don't know, I don't know where the time and the friends go when they disappear. All I know is that I wish they were still here, but I guess now is the perfect time to be selfish and just focus on myself. Days and nights are short and swift until the summer time, that's when I like to party-solo in my own backyard. Who needs friends when you've got some smokes? Who needs relationships when you've got porn? Who needs school when you've got Google?Who needs snow when you've got the house all to yourself? Who needs to worry about going to Hell when every moment of your life is heaven? Who needs luck when your lucky number isn't seven? Who cares how stupid your mistakes are as long as you learn your lesson?
It doesn't matter that I don't live near a beach, I just have to smoke a cigarette and the bushes look like palm trees. My ugly brown house looks like a condo in the Bahamas, carved out of luxurious coconut trees in the summer. Forget the shoes, forget the clothes, forget the food, forget the snow, forget the pain, for get the regret, forget the sanity, forget the Gazette and the news, they're lying to you anyway, so you might as well lie to yourself about how bad the day was today. No need to run, no need to justify your escape just use your imagination to destroy your rage. Pall Malls and Motrin dull the pain and the hookah makes your life more vivid and sane. This world you live in is your cradle and your grave and no one can take it away. Let Iron Maiden and Metallica be your guide, from the shadows into the rising mist and the sunshine. Be Kurt Cobain, be Biggie Smalls, be Sublime!
Eighteen years to get where I am today and my pay comes in the form of dip, smokes and porn. Not a satisfying payoff, I thought for sure I'd be much further along when I finally got here. All my friends are busy at their jobs, in college, with their families and their other friends. I'm lonely, watching the mountains as they take me back to simpler times; I don't know, I don't know where the time and the friends go when they disappear. All I know is that I wish they were still here, but I guess now is the perfect time to be selfish and just focus on myself. Days and nights are short and swift until the summer time, that's when I like to party-solo in my own backyard. Who needs friends when you've got some smokes? Who needs relationships when you've got porn? Who needs school when you've got Google?Who needs snow when you've got the house all to yourself? Who needs to worry about going to Hell when every moment of your life is heaven? Who needs luck when your lucky number isn't seven? Who cares how stupid your mistakes are as long as you learn your lesson?
It doesn't matter that I don't live near a beach, I just have to smoke a cigarette and the bushes look like palm trees. My ugly brown house looks like a condo in the Bahamas, carved out of luxurious coconut trees in the summer. Forget the shoes, forget the clothes, forget the food, forget the snow, forget the pain, for get the regret, forget the sanity, forget the Gazette and the news, they're lying to you anyway, so you might as well lie to yourself about how bad the day was today. No need to run, no need to justify your escape just use your imagination to destroy your rage. Pall Malls and Motrin dull the pain and the hookah makes your life more vivid and sane. This world you live in is your cradle and your grave and no one can take it away. Let Iron Maiden and Metallica be your guide, from the shadows into the rising mist and the sunshine. Be Kurt Cobain, be Biggie Smalls, be Sublime!
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Cigars & Hidden Skateboard Parks
Trees & bushes conceal a place that inspires generation after generation of skateboarders. A place hidden by loud trains, large empty spaces, three abandoned buildings and two extremely dull and mundane buildings on either side of the entrance to the road. It is here, that a skateboard park was built and has existed for years in harmony. A place where young men take their girlfriends to film them kick flipping, ollie-ing, grinding, heel flipping and speeding up to catch big air off the ramps. Defiance, beauty, strength, independence, practice, performance; these are the elements of skateboarding, the very things that attracted and inspired generations of young men (and women) as far back as the 1970's. I think the Tony Hawk's video game franchise captured this image of the golden era of skating, especially in Tony Hawk's Underground, where everything from the music to the skating style glorifies those who follow and appreciate the independence and appeal of the old school skater.
I recall trying to join this exclusive social "club" of adept skaters, both in skill and in conversation. This was when I was significantly younger than I am now (I'm coming up on my twentieth birthday) and lacked the motivation to keep trying to learn skateboarding, even after it became difficult and boring for me. I eventually gave up and moved on with my life, gaining very little experience from my attempts to master the artful sport of skateboarding. However, my infatuation with skateboarding never changed. Nowadays, I hardly go to the skatepark anymore, the Tony Hawk video game franchise is dead, I still don't know how to ride a skateboard and sometimes I feel as though I am beginning to lose my connection with the skateboarding culture. Once upon a summer, exactly two summers ago, I remember my younger brother and his friend Ben (the neighbor kid from down the street) asked my father to drive them to the skatepark. It was a beautiful summer day and there was no work to be done. I'll never forget that feeling as I watched Ben and Neil hop out of the car and do different tricks on the ramps. It was so bright and warm outside; I was watching Neil and his friend run around the entire park. Ben was clearly an adept skater for his age, whereas Neil had no experience but he still had fun.
Here in Colorado Springs, it isn't unusual for the heat to go above and beyond one hundred degrees. I sat there in the car, as I was burning up from the morning sun. I realized that the skatepark wasn't something I went to very often myself. That was usually because although I could walk to the skateboard park, it would take an ungodly amount of time to get there. And the summer sun would murder me because there's no shade to take cover in. I used to think the teenagers at the skatepark were cool, but now I realize they're either middle schoolers or young high schoolers. Some of them are obnoxious; bringing their girlfriends to the skatepark so that they can film their boyfriends doing mediocre tricks while showing off their fake tattoos (yes, fake tattoos!). Nevertheless, I still enjoy watching the real talent doing their thing. I only wish bringing a cigar to the skatepark were an option, but it's not since having a cigar (or any type of tobacco for that matter) would make me a god among men in that setting. Fifteen and sixteen year olds begging me to give them cigars. Could you imagine how annoying that would get? On the other hand, I could see how smoking it in front of them would be kind of rude. On the other hand, most of the teenagers are too distracted skateboarding or biking to notice the people around them. Listening to metal on my iPod while watching people skateboard while smoking would be a relaxing thing for me. It's probably a great combination I imagine.
I recall trying to join this exclusive social "club" of adept skaters, both in skill and in conversation. This was when I was significantly younger than I am now (I'm coming up on my twentieth birthday) and lacked the motivation to keep trying to learn skateboarding, even after it became difficult and boring for me. I eventually gave up and moved on with my life, gaining very little experience from my attempts to master the artful sport of skateboarding. However, my infatuation with skateboarding never changed. Nowadays, I hardly go to the skatepark anymore, the Tony Hawk video game franchise is dead, I still don't know how to ride a skateboard and sometimes I feel as though I am beginning to lose my connection with the skateboarding culture. Once upon a summer, exactly two summers ago, I remember my younger brother and his friend Ben (the neighbor kid from down the street) asked my father to drive them to the skatepark. It was a beautiful summer day and there was no work to be done. I'll never forget that feeling as I watched Ben and Neil hop out of the car and do different tricks on the ramps. It was so bright and warm outside; I was watching Neil and his friend run around the entire park. Ben was clearly an adept skater for his age, whereas Neil had no experience but he still had fun.
Here in Colorado Springs, it isn't unusual for the heat to go above and beyond one hundred degrees. I sat there in the car, as I was burning up from the morning sun. I realized that the skatepark wasn't something I went to very often myself. That was usually because although I could walk to the skateboard park, it would take an ungodly amount of time to get there. And the summer sun would murder me because there's no shade to take cover in. I used to think the teenagers at the skatepark were cool, but now I realize they're either middle schoolers or young high schoolers. Some of them are obnoxious; bringing their girlfriends to the skatepark so that they can film their boyfriends doing mediocre tricks while showing off their fake tattoos (yes, fake tattoos!). Nevertheless, I still enjoy watching the real talent doing their thing. I only wish bringing a cigar to the skatepark were an option, but it's not since having a cigar (or any type of tobacco for that matter) would make me a god among men in that setting. Fifteen and sixteen year olds begging me to give them cigars. Could you imagine how annoying that would get? On the other hand, I could see how smoking it in front of them would be kind of rude. On the other hand, most of the teenagers are too distracted skateboarding or biking to notice the people around them. Listening to metal on my iPod while watching people skateboard while smoking would be a relaxing thing for me. It's probably a great combination I imagine.
Sanctuary
The sanctuary can only be described in one word; vast. Its magnificent ability to encompass the mind and envelope the soul is nothing less than impressive. This is the place I consider my special chill zone, because its size combined with its terrain makes it the perfect area to hang out in. There are many places to hide and many places to be seen in plain sight in this area. There are long ditches dug into the terrain like mini canyons, where you could hide if you wanted to. Please god, take me away to this kingdom of immortal youth where I sacrifice the pain and the stress on the alter of joy. A place that's right for every girl and boy to maintain their youth and their right to live a happy life. One big hill, two square miles, three big smiles, eight happy years returning to my spot. The only place more sublime than a parking lot, hours of climbing and singing my favorite Sublime songs, pretending my old friends are still here, singing along-having a blast, my only connection to the past, I often find myself wishing it could last but what's the fun in never participating in your future? I guess sometimes you've gotta look behind you while you're walking forward, to see the history pure and clear.
The year was 2005; me, Richard, Billy, Eric and Brandon going to the hill, having the time of our lives. Climb the hill on the Sanctuary with folding chairs, a cooler of soda and snacks. Hot summer days weren't a laughing matter, just talking about life over a Sprite or a Dr. Pepper. These were the days when the friendships were strong and we used to hang out together. The days so special we all remember. Now things have changed and everyone is gone, I try to patch things up with Eric but he won't come along to the hill. Richard and his two brothers Billy and Brandon were next to leave the scene, moving to Wyoming I mean. Now I'm left behind in Colorado, with many friends I don't think I'll ever see tomorrow. Steven stopped hanging out back when I had strobe lights in middle school, eventually I became a loner. I became the socially awkward man I am today. It was a slow, painful process that I somehow survived, I mean I still crave the social aspects of life and I say to myself "One day I'll be on top again, but for now I'll just stick with what I know!".
As I ascend the hill, I imagine the faces of lost friends and recall the stories untold. As I smoke my Pall Mall menthol cigarettes, I look down upon the city where I hung out with my friends. I can see the Mr. Biggs that closed down last year, I can see the BMX park being taken down and replaced, I can see how the mall has changed and become a duller version of itself. In a way, the Sanctuary is a grave sight for the fallen soldiers of eternal youth. So much disbelief at the destruction I've seen. I swear, if all my friends weren't busy, I'd be partying on the hill. The smoking and the soda drinking, it could've lasted forever. My man Chris is too much of a rule follower to party, my man Zack is too young, my homeboy Steven is too busy, my brother Kevin is too far away. If there's one thing I'll be honest about, it's that I never expected to be alone by the time I was in college. For me, the party's never over, it's really just begun. May the party last forever, bringing me closer to the light. If only there was some way to restore my old life…
The year was 2005; me, Richard, Billy, Eric and Brandon going to the hill, having the time of our lives. Climb the hill on the Sanctuary with folding chairs, a cooler of soda and snacks. Hot summer days weren't a laughing matter, just talking about life over a Sprite or a Dr. Pepper. These were the days when the friendships were strong and we used to hang out together. The days so special we all remember. Now things have changed and everyone is gone, I try to patch things up with Eric but he won't come along to the hill. Richard and his two brothers Billy and Brandon were next to leave the scene, moving to Wyoming I mean. Now I'm left behind in Colorado, with many friends I don't think I'll ever see tomorrow. Steven stopped hanging out back when I had strobe lights in middle school, eventually I became a loner. I became the socially awkward man I am today. It was a slow, painful process that I somehow survived, I mean I still crave the social aspects of life and I say to myself "One day I'll be on top again, but for now I'll just stick with what I know!".
As I ascend the hill, I imagine the faces of lost friends and recall the stories untold. As I smoke my Pall Mall menthol cigarettes, I look down upon the city where I hung out with my friends. I can see the Mr. Biggs that closed down last year, I can see the BMX park being taken down and replaced, I can see how the mall has changed and become a duller version of itself. In a way, the Sanctuary is a grave sight for the fallen soldiers of eternal youth. So much disbelief at the destruction I've seen. I swear, if all my friends weren't busy, I'd be partying on the hill. The smoking and the soda drinking, it could've lasted forever. My man Chris is too much of a rule follower to party, my man Zack is too young, my homeboy Steven is too busy, my brother Kevin is too far away. If there's one thing I'll be honest about, it's that I never expected to be alone by the time I was in college. For me, the party's never over, it's really just begun. May the party last forever, bringing me closer to the light. If only there was some way to restore my old life…
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Hookah Bar
Smoke rolling off the tongue like a fog machine, blowing off some steam. Friday night, beautiful girls, familiar faces and a smokin' hot scene. Ten dollar hookah smoke fee. Better bring your money, cause the smog will set you free. Higher and higher the smoke rises, releasing tobacco chemicals into the air, freeing your soul. I first fell in love with The Coffee & Tea Zone when I found out that they have a hookah bar every night from 8:00 PM until 12:00 AM. My discovery of this hookah bar was completely by accident. I happened to be sitting in my dad's van while he was picking up some Yakitori for dinner that night. The Coffee & Tea Zone has a very attractive pixelated sign which changes messages every few seconds. I happened to notice the sign advertising "hookah night", so the following day, I dropped by to inquire the details of this amazing deal. The woman behind the counter explained to me the hours the event was held and what days. I came back that night with ten dollars, just as the woman had advised me to do.
As soon as I walked into the store, a man asked me if I was there for hookah night. I told him I was and than I gave him my ten dollars. After that, he told me to pick a spot to sit down at. There was a long row of booth with several small tables adjacent to one another. There were several people sitting down, smoking hookahs. Most of them were women. I had a good feeling that they were high school seniors (or at least that they had been out of high school for a year). I was surprised that they were eighteen or older, most of them acted and sounded like they 14 or 15 years old. A part of me was hoping to score a new girlfriend (I assumed there was no way those women could be younger than 18, despite the fact that I thought it was a strong possibility). I happened to meet one of the people I went to high school with. His name is Jared and when I was having a conversation with him, he told me he was a nightly visitor for the hookah bar. As soon as the manager bought a hookah over to me, I started smoking it. Immediately, I began to cough over and over again. I was amazed at the quality of the hookahs they had at this casual night time hookah bar. I had never experienced such a smooth, invigorating smoke session before. The flavor was outstanding, the smoke production was impressive and the coals seemed to last forever.
Before I set foot into The Coffee & Tea Zone, I had been experiencing what I suspect was the symptoms of a migraine. I tried to ignore the overwhelming headache, but as the night progressed I began to have a different attitude. Eventually, I started feeling nauseous and light headed. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I opted to leave. I offered up the last of my hookah time to a woman who had just walked in a second ago. She was more than happy to use up the rest of the remaining time I had left on the hookah. I dragged myself home through the shortcut. Once I finally got home, I felt sick and had to lay down. For the next hour, I tossed and turned on the floor, the sofa in the den and finally the bed. When I figured out that there was no comfortable position in which I could lay down, I decided to take a nice warm shower. I huddled in the corner of the shower, knowing full well that I was going to puke any second. In one final vein attempt to avoid vomiting, I laid down on my side in a fetal position. And that's when it happened-I puked all over the floor of the shower three times and then crawled to the other end of the shower to lay down. After a few short minutes, I decided to get out of the shower and as luck would have it, my dad was there. I told him about what happened and he cleaned it up. What caused my migraine and nausea to occur is unclear, but I don't blame The Coffee & Tea Zone for it. Becoming ill after experiencing minor symptoms and smoking before getting sick leads me to believe that you probably shouldn't smoke a hookah (or anything for that matter) if you start to feel under the weather. I'm sure that's a piece of advice that's common sense for most people, but I just thought I would point that out.
I have not been back to The Coffee & Tea Zone since that day. Not because I'm afraid of getting sick, but because I don't always have the ten dollars or the time to go back. If ever I feel the need to leave home and it's eight at night or later, you can be sure I'll be showing up for the nightly hookah bar. The chairs and setting are very comfortable and inviting. The environment the night time employees create is laid back and care free. As a matter of fact, the staff likes to hang out with the customers while watching television. The Coffee & Tea Zone is the perfect place to meet new people during hookah bar hours. Since I'm single and lonely, I think I'm gonna have to drop by again some time and see who's there to meet. When you're in my shoes, it's always a good idea to keep your options opened.
As soon as I walked into the store, a man asked me if I was there for hookah night. I told him I was and than I gave him my ten dollars. After that, he told me to pick a spot to sit down at. There was a long row of booth with several small tables adjacent to one another. There were several people sitting down, smoking hookahs. Most of them were women. I had a good feeling that they were high school seniors (or at least that they had been out of high school for a year). I was surprised that they were eighteen or older, most of them acted and sounded like they 14 or 15 years old. A part of me was hoping to score a new girlfriend (I assumed there was no way those women could be younger than 18, despite the fact that I thought it was a strong possibility). I happened to meet one of the people I went to high school with. His name is Jared and when I was having a conversation with him, he told me he was a nightly visitor for the hookah bar. As soon as the manager bought a hookah over to me, I started smoking it. Immediately, I began to cough over and over again. I was amazed at the quality of the hookahs they had at this casual night time hookah bar. I had never experienced such a smooth, invigorating smoke session before. The flavor was outstanding, the smoke production was impressive and the coals seemed to last forever.
Before I set foot into The Coffee & Tea Zone, I had been experiencing what I suspect was the symptoms of a migraine. I tried to ignore the overwhelming headache, but as the night progressed I began to have a different attitude. Eventually, I started feeling nauseous and light headed. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I opted to leave. I offered up the last of my hookah time to a woman who had just walked in a second ago. She was more than happy to use up the rest of the remaining time I had left on the hookah. I dragged myself home through the shortcut. Once I finally got home, I felt sick and had to lay down. For the next hour, I tossed and turned on the floor, the sofa in the den and finally the bed. When I figured out that there was no comfortable position in which I could lay down, I decided to take a nice warm shower. I huddled in the corner of the shower, knowing full well that I was going to puke any second. In one final vein attempt to avoid vomiting, I laid down on my side in a fetal position. And that's when it happened-I puked all over the floor of the shower three times and then crawled to the other end of the shower to lay down. After a few short minutes, I decided to get out of the shower and as luck would have it, my dad was there. I told him about what happened and he cleaned it up. What caused my migraine and nausea to occur is unclear, but I don't blame The Coffee & Tea Zone for it. Becoming ill after experiencing minor symptoms and smoking before getting sick leads me to believe that you probably shouldn't smoke a hookah (or anything for that matter) if you start to feel under the weather. I'm sure that's a piece of advice that's common sense for most people, but I just thought I would point that out.
I have not been back to The Coffee & Tea Zone since that day. Not because I'm afraid of getting sick, but because I don't always have the ten dollars or the time to go back. If ever I feel the need to leave home and it's eight at night or later, you can be sure I'll be showing up for the nightly hookah bar. The chairs and setting are very comfortable and inviting. The environment the night time employees create is laid back and care free. As a matter of fact, the staff likes to hang out with the customers while watching television. The Coffee & Tea Zone is the perfect place to meet new people during hookah bar hours. Since I'm single and lonely, I think I'm gonna have to drop by again some time and see who's there to meet. When you're in my shoes, it's always a good idea to keep your options opened.
Diamond Shamrock
Too lazy to drive to Farm Crest for that tobacco chew, gonna walk to the Diamond Shamrock to get a pack of cigarettes for the price of two. I remember almost exactly two years ago, went to the shamrock for my first pack of smokes. Back when I didn't know what I was getting, I just asked for Keith to pick out any pack of smokes. When I was eighteen, they knew how to do it right. They had a decent amount of dips and the most amazing selection of smokes I've ever seen. I wish I could say the same thing about their selection of dip, but their inventory has plummeted to such an extent that I now go to Farm Crest for my dip instead of Diamond Shamrock. I live less than a mile away from the Diamond Shamrock corner store. There are two ways to get there on foot; one is long and tedious and the other way is incredibly short. Whenever I run low on cigarettes, I always go to Diamond Shamrock and I always take the short route. The short route is interesting, because it involves taking a pathway most people wouldn't think to take. Behind my backyard is a trail, and to the right of the trail, there's a small creek. If you walk thirty-six feet up the trail from behind my house, you'll notice some small trees. If you go into the collection of shrubbery, you can walk down a path and up a small hill. After that, you walk through the roads of an apartment complex, where you get to the parking lot where the Diamond Shamrock is in less than three minutes.
I dread going to Diamond Shamrock, because I hate having to walk somewhere with so many "obstacles" in my way just to get there. Once I get to the Diamond Shamrock, I'll ask for three packs of Pall Malls. I tend to go through a lot of cigarettes, especially during the summer time. Pall Mall menthols in the green box are what I have always gotten. Pall Mall menthols have slowly become my preferred cigarettes. Once I'm done purchasing my cigarettes, I jet out of there pretty quickly. I really do wish Farm Crest could take Diamond Shamrock's place. I know for a fact I wouldn't complain. Diamond Shamrock is nothing special really.
I dread going to Diamond Shamrock, because I hate having to walk somewhere with so many "obstacles" in my way just to get there. Once I get to the Diamond Shamrock, I'll ask for three packs of Pall Malls. I tend to go through a lot of cigarettes, especially during the summer time. Pall Mall menthols in the green box are what I have always gotten. Pall Mall menthols have slowly become my preferred cigarettes. Once I'm done purchasing my cigarettes, I jet out of there pretty quickly. I really do wish Farm Crest could take Diamond Shamrock's place. I know for a fact I wouldn't complain. Diamond Shamrock is nothing special really.
Kevin
Little wannabe gangster by the name of kevin, we went to Kindergarten together years ago. Didn't really see him very often, but we went to school together for years and knew each other well. Never really spent time together, but we just kind of had an interesting friendship. Always really cool in the elementary school years, he'd hang out with the cool kids and talk about riding his BMX bike all the time. In his high school years he was way into hip hop like my bro Steven. Good attitude, good person, good reputation it seemed nothing could slow him down. It wasn't until Senior year of high school that he openly admitted he had been in drug rehab a few times. Last time I saw him was about two months ago. He and Cole were driving by my house and Cole accidentally nailed my mailbox. We had a chance to chat and hang out for awhile and than Kevin left with Cole.
Just the other day, my ex girlfriend told me that Kevin's mom was kicking him out of the house the next day, if he couldn't pay her $40.00 before than. I came up with a few suggestions on how he could make the money in time, but I don't know what the situation with him is now. I'm guessing he failed, but that's just a guess on my part. Situations like this always make me wonder; "Why does this always happen to the good people!?". Now I can just picture Kevin walking alone in the cold, dark streets. I guess that's why I haven't been able to sleep! He's one of the people I'd like to hang out with and just have a good old fashioned smoke-a-thon with him. Cool guy, loves cigarettes and he probably has a passion for dip too. I always felt real close to him and I always thought he had a great attitude towards life and other people. Kevin really is one of the few people a freak like me could hang out with. Steven went to elementary school with me too and we've always been friends. These days, Steven is just like me and Kevin; he loves dip and smokes. These are both of my bros, my homies, the only fucking people I can relate to and have fun with besides two or three other people.
One day when the time is right, we'll be able to drink together-just the three of us. I can see it now, a shitload of smoke coming out of Steven's car as we're smokin', and jokin', and having a good time! The cool thing about the three of us is we're never too fucking busy to hang. Man, I can still remember that $80.00 tattoo Kevin got. He showed it to me and I thought it was fucking cool. The three of us are way into music, maybe we could form a group or something? I don't know maybe that's just me wishfully thinking, but I would be impressed if we could pull together to do something like that. I know Steven has recorded a few songs himself. One of these days, we're golden! Until than, I'm just gonna do my thing and hang out on my own.
Just the other day, my ex girlfriend told me that Kevin's mom was kicking him out of the house the next day, if he couldn't pay her $40.00 before than. I came up with a few suggestions on how he could make the money in time, but I don't know what the situation with him is now. I'm guessing he failed, but that's just a guess on my part. Situations like this always make me wonder; "Why does this always happen to the good people!?". Now I can just picture Kevin walking alone in the cold, dark streets. I guess that's why I haven't been able to sleep! He's one of the people I'd like to hang out with and just have a good old fashioned smoke-a-thon with him. Cool guy, loves cigarettes and he probably has a passion for dip too. I always felt real close to him and I always thought he had a great attitude towards life and other people. Kevin really is one of the few people a freak like me could hang out with. Steven went to elementary school with me too and we've always been friends. These days, Steven is just like me and Kevin; he loves dip and smokes. These are both of my bros, my homies, the only fucking people I can relate to and have fun with besides two or three other people.
One day when the time is right, we'll be able to drink together-just the three of us. I can see it now, a shitload of smoke coming out of Steven's car as we're smokin', and jokin', and having a good time! The cool thing about the three of us is we're never too fucking busy to hang. Man, I can still remember that $80.00 tattoo Kevin got. He showed it to me and I thought it was fucking cool. The three of us are way into music, maybe we could form a group or something? I don't know maybe that's just me wishfully thinking, but I would be impressed if we could pull together to do something like that. I know Steven has recorded a few songs himself. One of these days, we're golden! Until than, I'm just gonna do my thing and hang out on my own.
Sacred Hell
Upon the smooth concrete floor where the darkness has no end or beginning, dust and dirt from year's past gathers in the subtle approach of night. Your day is over, but mine has just begun. I step into the filthy surface, heels first onto the dirty floor. The transition from the comfort zone into the darkest future that I have ever known is now complete. A place so cold, so dirty, so foreboding that it makes men like me afraid to set foot in it. Three footsteps in and the door closes behind me as if preventing my escape, time to celebrate my life before it's too late. Every time I slowly step in, the sadness quickly dissipates. If I weren't feeling so unsure and insecure, maybe I wouldn't be in here tonight! Light switch on the wall, I quickly turn on in a panic as the comfort begins to elevate. Suddenly things aren't so bad, because I'm in a familiar place again. The darkness in the garage represents my fear of the future I won't survive to see. Might as well party on until I can abandon reality. The absence of two cars makes enough room for me to pull a table and a chair into my favorite demonic lair.
As I plug my radio into the only outlet in the wall, I consider my indolence in the enclosed abyss to be the only escape from the prison walls and limitations I created for myself. I am a prisoner of my obsessive compulsive fears. The same fears that keep me up at night, the same fears that see the darkness in the light, the same fears that dwell in the young minds of children and turn them into adult train wrecks like me. The only thing that justifies the fear, is the prison in the garage. If I didn't need to run away, the garage would be useless to me. In a way, we all need an escape; something to take us far away. Most of us are intelligent and bold enough to face the demons, but broken men like me seek refuge in rundown places, seeing them as earthly safe havens to heaven. Nirvana cannot be found, but it can be created by those who are bold enough to imagine a world that defies misery and rewards the desire for inner peace. For me, the garage is such a place; it inspires me to detach from the world and live the life that isn't possible by worldly standards. A place and a time that inspires you to reflect, reminisce, plan, relax and remain detached from your major stressors is a time and a place which makes you a god/goddess in a world of mortals. You are untouchable and in harmony with yourself because you are choosing rejuvenation over suffering. No one has the emotional, psychological or physical strength to fight their way through life without a "soul break" as I like to call it. If you go too hard for too long, your will power will be crushed and so will you.
In that moment when I have the radio on in the garage, I've got my hookah going and I'm smoking a cigarette, I know that I am home because I know that I am free from the mental slavery that tells me I must suffer to find freedom and real happiness. I often find that in this environment, I can actually enjoy eating, drinking, smoking and being by myself. My fear of the future does not exist here, because in the garage the future doesn't matter. The way my hookah so sublimely fits into the scenery, the way the cigarette and cigar smoke tastes and smells in there is amazing! I usually love sporting my Coor's Light hat while I'm in the garage too. The way the light shines through the only window in the garage completes the picture of serenity for me. Here in the garage, I am my own man and no one else's. I come out of the garage feeling renewed and ready to take on the world. I really enjoy and appreciate my time in there, as it is truly a wonderful place. No one bothers me while I'm smoking and rocking out to some kilo. It is a fantasy come true, where my imagination is allowed to run wild.
As I plug my radio into the only outlet in the wall, I consider my indolence in the enclosed abyss to be the only escape from the prison walls and limitations I created for myself. I am a prisoner of my obsessive compulsive fears. The same fears that keep me up at night, the same fears that see the darkness in the light, the same fears that dwell in the young minds of children and turn them into adult train wrecks like me. The only thing that justifies the fear, is the prison in the garage. If I didn't need to run away, the garage would be useless to me. In a way, we all need an escape; something to take us far away. Most of us are intelligent and bold enough to face the demons, but broken men like me seek refuge in rundown places, seeing them as earthly safe havens to heaven. Nirvana cannot be found, but it can be created by those who are bold enough to imagine a world that defies misery and rewards the desire for inner peace. For me, the garage is such a place; it inspires me to detach from the world and live the life that isn't possible by worldly standards. A place and a time that inspires you to reflect, reminisce, plan, relax and remain detached from your major stressors is a time and a place which makes you a god/goddess in a world of mortals. You are untouchable and in harmony with yourself because you are choosing rejuvenation over suffering. No one has the emotional, psychological or physical strength to fight their way through life without a "soul break" as I like to call it. If you go too hard for too long, your will power will be crushed and so will you.
In that moment when I have the radio on in the garage, I've got my hookah going and I'm smoking a cigarette, I know that I am home because I know that I am free from the mental slavery that tells me I must suffer to find freedom and real happiness. I often find that in this environment, I can actually enjoy eating, drinking, smoking and being by myself. My fear of the future does not exist here, because in the garage the future doesn't matter. The way my hookah so sublimely fits into the scenery, the way the cigarette and cigar smoke tastes and smells in there is amazing! I usually love sporting my Coor's Light hat while I'm in the garage too. The way the light shines through the only window in the garage completes the picture of serenity for me. Here in the garage, I am my own man and no one else's. I come out of the garage feeling renewed and ready to take on the world. I really enjoy and appreciate my time in there, as it is truly a wonderful place. No one bothers me while I'm smoking and rocking out to some kilo. It is a fantasy come true, where my imagination is allowed to run wild.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Pall Malls Are Freedom
Menthol madness kills the sadness like the morning sun kills the moon. Gentle wind massages the face and beard as ska music completes the mood. The sky is bright and cloudless, who needs to sing the blues with the mellowness of spring? Birds sing as the chorus of life takes its tole on the cruel winter wind. Oh please sweet menthol mint, take me to the outdoor tropics. Iced tea lemonade in a soda can, everything is quiet, generic and bland with a touch of excitement pulsating through my neutral hands. God of sun and light, make this atheist's future bright! Stone cold, seashell rainbow table warm and bright, filled with light; won't you rescue me from the night? Black jacket covered in holes, burning my skin and soul, care to take a spring time stroll? No time for stress, danger, anger, fear or self-loathing when the flowers in the garden are growing.
A two-by-four prison in the backyard cures ruthless criticisms and jeers, bewildering trolls and overly critical peers. Wallet empty without despair, I hope the day never ends! Here, money is not an issue but an object of deception and distraction. Attention to finances is a math problem with nothing but subtraction, adding to the negativity and taking away from the positive distractions. Sunglasses on face, ready to leave this place in the mindset of nirvana, Colorado is just another name for the Bahamas. Soda can covered in a pornographic sleeve, I hope I never have to leave. The kingdom of Marlboro topples as Pall Mall barely follows the popular cigarette trend. An entire day with Pall Mall menthols, I'd rather spend, because the price range of Marlboros and Camels make unsatisfied smokers such as myself tear and bend our dollars. My cigarette case decorated with ace of spades is the only place my Pall Mall menthols belong. The intensity of each fatty I blow, another one of my problems a cigarette stole.
Cigarette one feels like my sadness is done, the second makes it impossible not to have fun, the third one lifts the curse and the fourth one feels like a second birth. The smell of smoke is a source of pride, leaving me thankful for the sweet ride. Lord knows the truly blessed are the ones that suck and blow (on a cigarette I mean). Lawn chair, messy hair, zero cares. That's the way life is meant to be lived, says this smoker, sucker and blower. Better do it while it's still spring and summer, before it gets colder.
A two-by-four prison in the backyard cures ruthless criticisms and jeers, bewildering trolls and overly critical peers. Wallet empty without despair, I hope the day never ends! Here, money is not an issue but an object of deception and distraction. Attention to finances is a math problem with nothing but subtraction, adding to the negativity and taking away from the positive distractions. Sunglasses on face, ready to leave this place in the mindset of nirvana, Colorado is just another name for the Bahamas. Soda can covered in a pornographic sleeve, I hope I never have to leave. The kingdom of Marlboro topples as Pall Mall barely follows the popular cigarette trend. An entire day with Pall Mall menthols, I'd rather spend, because the price range of Marlboros and Camels make unsatisfied smokers such as myself tear and bend our dollars. My cigarette case decorated with ace of spades is the only place my Pall Mall menthols belong. The intensity of each fatty I blow, another one of my problems a cigarette stole.
Cigarette one feels like my sadness is done, the second makes it impossible not to have fun, the third one lifts the curse and the fourth one feels like a second birth. The smell of smoke is a source of pride, leaving me thankful for the sweet ride. Lord knows the truly blessed are the ones that suck and blow (on a cigarette I mean). Lawn chair, messy hair, zero cares. That's the way life is meant to be lived, says this smoker, sucker and blower. Better do it while it's still spring and summer, before it gets colder.
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