Year of writing 9

1/9/12

As kids we were all
chapstick and chewing gum
fingertips and butterflies

This is the beginning of something, or perhaps the middle - but the image is all I have. The closest things to me are the hardest to write - why is it that the people closest to me dance on the tip of my tongue, that the closer something gets to my heart, the more I want to couch it in irrelevant details or overdone prose? I'm pretty good at writing pain - so as my life has become full of joy, the writing tends to dry up - the words won't come. Maybe it's because they don't have to, but that feels like a cop out. I want to express what is real, not just what is sad or upsetting.

The lines creeping out
from the corners of her eyes
are shy now, testing the waters
each gray hair a treasure
a reminder of the miles
we've traveled together
hands tightly clasped
around the stick shift
of a little red car

MAaaaaan this is hard.

Year of writing 8

1/8/12



By the time I knew him
they were gnarled, wrenched
but gripped like the pliers
holding steel to grind

his handshake softened
before he let go, betraying
a gentle heart
beneath his stained shirt

how it must have felt
to be steel in hands like his
the metal lost its rigidity,
lost its gravity

now his hands rest ashen,
awkwardly entombed
in a maroon plastic box on my shelf
too rectangular, too geometric

I wonder if his sculptures
pine for strong hands
as they patiently wait on pedestals,
steel tears dripping upward


In memory of Lou Pearson 1925-2005

Year of writing 7

1/7/12


Sometimes everything is perfect. Sometimes a pie plate is Darth Vader's helmet, all you need is a pair of scissors and the string from a birthday hat.

Her eyes
deep chestnut
search for joy
in every face
every cold corner
of this house

a blanket campfire
a pie tin mask
these are her handmaidens
a line of figurines
keep whispered secrets
under hard plastic hats

some days the world
opens wide and brilliant
under this roof
some days her eyes
are endless

year of writing 6

1\6\12


After being a DJ for the last 10 years or so, there are a few things that I have learned about life.

1) Montell Jordan is the great equalizer for people 25+ of all races. This IS actually how we do it.
Montell

2) people have no idea what music is good for dancing. this is highlighted by the most ridiculous requests ever. "do you have gregorian chants? no? how about any cannibal corpse?"

3) human beings are forgiving. So what I just played my favorite underground hip hop song and cleared the dance floor, here comes Bell Biv Devoe and high fives all around.

4) people put way too much emphasis on the DJ as a person. honestly - a dj is a jukebox with a little more skill... enjoy the night, enjoy your friends, laugh, then buy me a drink at the end.

5) the day you forget your business cards is the day you get approached for a "big deal" gig. Every time. goobers have my cards. important people get a napkin with my facebook scrawled in sharpie.

6) music is not work. that's why it's rad.

Year of writing 5

1/5/12

third and jefferson

razor wire, brick, and concrete
Hold jack London's ghost
In a stiff embrace

Streetlights form
A sad parade
A spotlight for broken bottles

Rust attaches itself
To door handles and chain link
desperate, slow

I'm here early again
Waiting for the people
To spill down the street

Like an upturned toy box
I watch them line outside
And wonder who will be left behind.

Year of Writing 4

1/4/12

Dentists. I hate them. When I was between the ages of 4 and 11, they were innocent enough - arrive, read HIGHLIGHTS for children, sit in the big chair, put some foul pink silly puddy looking goop in a ill-fitting mouthpiece into your maw and drool out the side of your mouth until you get a sticker. Easy. My picture was up on the wall at the dentist in Seattle with at least 6 gold no-cavity stars by it. I was ballin'.

Then 12 hit. The years of frivolously tossing my paltry allowance at candy vendors had finally caught up with me. A cavity. I remember it well - the dentist smirking as he brought the x-ray over to me in the chair, the sour metallic taste of the needle, the whine of the drill, the inadequacy of the numbing agent, the neverending ache of jaw muscles and tendons... you get the picture.

I have gone to the dentist many times since then - 95 percent of them with the same result. I think I have a complex. My wife Tegan suggested Adavan. I suggest laudanum. Regardless, I went to the dentist today. NO CAVITIES! NONE! I felt like I was 7 years old. No gold stars or polaroid on the dentist's wall though, just a glow in the dark lizard. And my daughter gave me that. Oh yeah, she went to the dentist too. She likes the dentist. All in good time, my sweet, all in good time.

--------------

year of writing 1-3

The Year I Write.
1/1/12

This year I've decided to make it my resolution to write every day for at least 10 minutes. Whatever that may look like. Writing has been slow coming to me for the last few years and I feel out of practice, sluggish, frustrated, and inadequate when I finally do attempt to put pen to paper – or in this case, fingers to keyboard. I may try and experiment with form, continue to write toward a novel, or simply rant here on this paper, in the hopes that it may spark something creative, something that I can feel proud of.

Oakland

I will be leaving you soon
you concrete bludgeon
you sad mother
I tried to hold our babies tight
against my chest
tried to calm the flutter

you whispered in my ear
when I arrived
green words, gold words
you were beautiful;
cracked, leaking,
holding your fingers
crossed behind your back

I will miss your calloused
fingertips – tracing lines
tight around your children
wrapping them in chalk
feeding them acorns
leeching the tannins

be good to your sons
teach them to hold
forefinger and thumb
curled in
teach them the language
of tree forts and charcoal
paint them in a color
less red
1/2/12

The second day of any type of activity one strives to make a habit is infinitely harder than the first. For me the writer, the blank screen is tortuous. It offers everything and nothing at once – the perfect conundrum – I have unbridled control over what is put down, but no idea to write about. I do give myself permission to continue this silly stream of conscious drivel then, for as long as it takes until something actually happens – but that's mostly because no one will see this.

White
the kind of bright
that hurts.
Just a little at first -
it needles at your skull
behind the eyes
gaining strength
as characters
on conveyor belts
move left to right
enter
shift
new line

Great. It’s day two and I’ve already started writing poems about not being able to write poems. Please, let this be a phase.

1/3/12

Movement and transition don’t always sync up the way I wish they would. I can’t wrap my mind around what I should be doing to facilitate this time of flux. It’s a strange feeling, I am filled with an energy, but no focus - I find myself packing and repacking the same box of books over and again - removing one or two, then replacing them. It’s a little disconcerting. hopefully by the time our move is a reality I’ll be more effective at moving through space.

I saw a cat yesterday on the sidewalk near the BART station. It had been hit, probably recently, and its eyes were open. It looked almost like it was a snapshot of a kitten in play, but it’s limbs were all wrong, stuck in improbable angles.

The wind tousles her fur
gently
like a tentative child
her twisted back
lies against pavement
and sky
her body is a contradiction
limbs splayed obtuse
a fly lands on one innocuous canine
an emboldened soldier
a last kiss

Sometimes these poems will be junior-high in nature - but I am a junior high school teacher and everything.

Dark Crystal

Isla has a new obsession for the week. It's the Dark Crystal, one of those awesome muppet movies that was really dark and scary - which for some reason my almost-three-year-old loves.

The guy on the left is a SKEKSIS. He's a bad guy, which means Isla loves him. Unfortunately, this word is slightly difficult for her young pronunciation skills - soooooo... when we were in line at Safeway, my little bundle of joy yelled out: "Daddy, when we get home can I watch the Sexy movie?" Ugh.

Bums

When I was in college at Berkeley, there used to be this woman who sold knit caps. She usually wore a hard hat that said "I love Brad Pitt" and danced to music that wasn't there. Isla reminds me of her, sometimes - mostly when she chooses her own outfits that consist of rainbow pants, a flower purse, a hobo beanie, and moon boots. I wish I could bottle that awesome sometimes and sprinkle it on every indie scenester I pass wearing skinny jeans, slip on vans, and a too-short-sleeved jacket. Then they'd hightail it to the nearest TJ Maxx and go nuts. (I seriously can't believe that TJ Maxx is the first store I thought of. I don't think I've ever even seen one).

Steven King

Have you ever read "It"?

This picture freaks me out.
I imagine a half-rotten clown monster down below offering her balloons... Isla can't really understand what the creature is garbling about, so she leans in closer... "choo?" she asks, which could mean any variety of things - from shoes to juice to poop...




No answer....

she gets even closer.

"hey..." the clown monster thing sneers.

"bop bop?" she counters, full of youthful innocence and braggadocio.

Beneath the grate, the beast scowls in contempt. "Come down here! I've got balloons for you..."


Smelling a ruse, Isla balks. "Baoon?"

At this instant - she realizes her mistake - those aren't real balloons - that's a murderous clown down there, not some new plaything!

Even now, she cringes as she recounts her harrowing encounter:

UBC (Ultimate Baby Championship) 100

Ladies and Gentlemen - tonight we have a great card for you all in the...uh... living room. The Island of Isla, the explosive pooper, miss Bop Bop herself takes on 3 adversaries in Gut Wrenching action. Watch on and be amazed at the skill, ferocity, and pure wrestling talent exhibited by this 2 foot terror!

Battle 1: Isla vs. Beru

The round started off with a surprise side roll by Beru, attempting to use Isla's lack of stability against her. This proved to be a mistake, however, as Isla quickly reversed the sloppy judo move and executed a perfect haunch-grab/tail twister. After this, the pin was just a few taps away. Isla won this match handily by means of submission in the first round.





Battle 2: Isla vs. Sophie

This looked to be a much more even match, as Sophie makes up for her lack of bipedalism with an intensity only found in Jack Russel-Pit Bull mixes. Even so, Isla was too quick at the start, and attempted a rear baby mount to begin the round.






Sophie then retaliated by spinning on the unwitting baby and nearly landing the dreaded "kiss of death" on her nose.



Isla quickly put an end to this threat with the collar-lock, a move she learned from her recent travels to a shaolin temple in Hunan, where she spent many hours training under a monk with no toes and a penchant for rootbeer swilling and buffoonery. But I digress... she quickly remembered her lessons - "brush the forehead of the beast with your palm, as the lotus brushes the morning air,"

"then crush the windpipe as the boa constrictor crushes rootbeer cans!" The old master's words rang in her head as she performed this next move. The fight went to a controversial decision in which the panel of judges (which consisted of a stuffed lamb and two pillows) declared Isla the winner by a score of 10 to 8. Many of the spectators involved, including Charlie, the other dog, believed that the match was won at this point, however - due to the utter defeat showing in Sophie's eyes.

Battle 3: Isla vs. Daddy

This match was a travesty, and a disgrace to the UBC organization as a whole. Somehow Isla convinced Sophie to tag team against the favored combatant in the first round and this match was over before it even started - with Isla pinning Daddy, then adding insult to injury by laughing at him as he writhed in agony...or just kind of giggled. Results: Isla 3, Everybody else 0.

Things that Suck, Part 1.

Number one thing that sucks right now: Dogs that enjoy disemboweling stuffed animals on a daily basis - this one was taken from the toy box, after the lid was jimmied off by a small black chihuahua mix.





Number 2 thing that sucks: Not cutting Isla's fingernails, and having her grab my face, taking a piece of my nose with her.

Baby Crack

These are the things I have found to be irresistible to my baby, creating high pitched squealing, intense crying and whining when removed, and general symptoms exhibited by most crack fiends:

1) Puppies and Kitties

2) Target brand fruit snacks - holy shit, when these are busted out I'm like the king of the babies.

3) Jamba Juice - I have seen half of a small banana berry jamba juice last a good hour and a half.

4) This one disgusting doll at goodwill that has straggly, thinning blond hair, is naked on rollerblades, is made of hard plastic, about her size, and is supposed to be electronic, but all the wires have been pulled out and are hanging from a hole in her left leg. WTF?


5) Blueberries. Once she had purple poop for three days.

Lake Merrit

Isla went with me to the lake today to feed the "ducks." The ducks are in quotation marks not because somebody screamed "ducks" at me in a high falsetto - although that would be cool - but because there were no ducks present at this junction. That's not to say that there were no birds - Oh, there were birds. Upon walking toward the play structure, one notices that the normally springy grass underfoot has a slightly crunchy texture at this time of year, that is one would notice this if one could see the grass under all the freaking geese. There were at least forty-five thousand Candadian Geese at the lake this fine afternoon - and Isla went bonkers - screaming Bop Bop! at every single one of them. At first I was hesitant to let her down from my protective grasp, but curiosity got the best of me (plus she was squirming in my arms and now scream-crying "bop bop, bop bop!" between gasps) so down she went. At first she simply hid behind my leg while the geese, by now old hands at getting food from toddlers and their fathers, yet cautious that we might be carpetbaggers all the same, gathered around us from all sides. It was eerie - I imagined I was in Jurassic Park, and they were velociraptors as they circled us. Then they got bored and resumed doing whatever it is that geese do in the grass. This was Isla's cue to chase. She went after the one that was closest to triple her size and yelled at it - like most things that get yelled at - the goose left in a huff and a ruffling of feathers. One of said feathers was dislodged as it huffed and ruffled, and Isla pointed at it with wonder, then grasped it in her hand, holding it aloft as if it were the holy grail. She proceeded to spend the next 25 minutes chasing that same goose with the feather held out, with every intention of giving it back to the poor beast. This is why I know she's going to be the president of the world. That is so awesome.

I'll leave you with this one last anecdote about geese. They have teeth ON THEIR TONGUES! find this out like I did by trying to feed one Pepperidge Farm Goldfish by hand and having it hiss at you in frustration because you fed its kinfolk rather tham him - and you'll poop bricks too. I promise.

Fourth of July Weekend Highlight Reel

I'm exhausted - Hawaii merged into the weekend of the fourth so fast I'm still confused about where I am right now.

Highlights

1) Meeting my brother Phil and his family for the first time and instantly connecting on all kinds of levels. Seeing the Del Nagro clan come together for real for the first time in a while.

2) Isla getting 4 days of pool time to play and play and play and...

3) Watching babies dance to Michael Jackson at the family "after party"

4) Bullshitting with cousin Jessica - dude, Lucas isn't a chambermaid - chill out.

5) Feeling like a real parent, with all the kids at the house playing together.

6) Citrus ribs & pomegranate BBQ chicken

7) Getting to finish a Ruben's Burrito from Summer, who could sense my angst at not getting one this trip.

8) Fire dancing by Elizabeth and Tawny ( i feel like i spelled that wrong)

9) Finding out my sister Elizabeth is engaged to somebody I actually don't want to decapitate with a rusty spoon.

10) Talking cameras with my father in law and picking up a few tips

11) Borrowing two fishing poles to do some serious damage with this summer on the Berkeley Pier - I'm talking at least 24 beers and maybe a dogfish.

12) going stupid with Claire like we were 13 and 8