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Posts Tagged ‘fascination station’

Many of our inexplicable urges are primal and connect us to our intrinsic past. A lot of how we operate comes from a deep, ancestrally patterned response system. We act out of habit and it is a habit set if not by ourselves, by our heredity. These actions are set in us for reasons of survival. Many of these things that we respond to have been watered down at this point, and no longer serve the same purposes as earlier times, yet we are left with trace urges that might wiggle and dance out from under thumb when asking why. What we see now as doing for simple fun and/ or pleasure just might be telling of where we came from. “What does she mean?” Let me explain with some supportive examples~

Numba 1: game hunting. Obviously we come from a lineage of hunter gatherers. Men went out to pasture, forest, and plain to bring home the bacon. Hunting was a necessity and provided our sustenance. These days we can bargain hunt for our meats and other fleshy things in the long isles of the grocery store. Most bros I know never even shot an animal… Well, maybe rats with bb guns, but that’s straying from the point. The need to have ill aim, be able to stalk prey (animals, fellas, come on), skin beasts, etc. has silently slipped by as a skill. Right? Right. However, men still have this urge to kill kill kill with out the real need in modern society to do so (purely for sport) and take it out on little Bambis’ of the world, often discarding the meat and saving… the head? Hmm. Something got lost in translation, no? You see- and people still have that innate urge for hunting, despite it’s existence of being a necessity (over all) long gone.

Specimen 2: Buffets. Yes- let’s examine this one fattys’! I kid. This is actually viewable as a relative to the first example, just in different clothing. But again, this is a post on breaking down what we are subconsciously drawn to do in the name of survival. I have noticed time and time again how people will eat faster when there is excess food in front of them. Instead of taking time with what is currently on the plate, they rush through their 1st plate so that they don’t miss out because others ate faster/ more and there are no seconds, though had they taken their time on the first plate they may realize that they were not hungry anymore. That question is disregarded and/ or ignored. So what’s my theory on how this relates to old patterns of survival? This is totally connected to scarcity mentality. During the hunter gatherer day, dependent on the season, it was often feast or famine for peeps. When food was abundant, it was wise to eat what was available, as there were no fridges or storage. People ate what they had while they had it. It was not sensible to abstain from eating because there was no guarantee that abundance would be part of tomorrow. In today’s culture (generally speaking (apart from famine stricken lands)) food is plentiful. The urge to eat and eat till we’re immobile stems from what I am saying. You feeling me?

3rd: Let’s address… Playerrrrs. Alright, I think this is connected to the urge to procreate. I’m not saying that most promiscuous people want to make bunches of babies per-say, but I am saying that the urge to screw as many people as possible stems from the assurance of the tribe continuing. If your sleeping with just one person, there are only so many children they can provide. Knockin boots with several people at once ensures a small gaggle of minis’. People wanted to do it (obvs because it feels fabulous and) to keep the blood line strong and to have extra hands to help raise the roof or whatever they needed. It’s like hunting for sport, people. The chief of tribes would have several wives. They were big biz. Importante. Their ancestry must be continued. Players might just be thinking that they are super important and need to spread seed so that their babies would be popping out a plenty. Think big ego and king of domain mentality.

Possible supporting theories: Making our hair big… Guilty! Or at least I certainly was. Yeah, I sported a wave. And it was taller than yours. And your sisters’. Yup. Lotsa people want to have thick, big ol’ hair. Proof? Weaves, wigs, extensions, hair thickening treatments, teasing, blow outs, hair spray… Maybe this is connected to wanting to appear larger to seem intimidating to predators. ??  I mean, genrally speaking, some crazy chick looks more intimidating to me when she’s got big hair then someone who has short, straight hair. Kinda. I don’t know- it’s a stretch. But just think about it.

But then there are questions… Residual things that don’t make sense.

For example, what is with the urge to talk to people that don’t speak the same language as yourself in an increasingly loud voice? Like if you get to the point where your are shouting you might break the barrier of misunderstanding and they will be suddenly capable of telling you exactly where the bathroom is.

And here’s another. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this one, and maybe you can help me… What is the deal with the whole appeal of the chase and challenge? The being wanted so bad when you are unavailable or disinterested. The wanting of someone when they do not show clear signs of reciprocity. It is so powerful on both ends. I have seen it now in full circle and got temporarily swept by the force of it. It’s so powerful and something that we all fall victim to, so I am thinking that there has to be a bigger reason for this phenomena. What is the biological basis for the intrigue of the chase and challenge? Is there some larger picture that it fits into to protect us from something? Because I cannot see it, if so. What’s your philosophy? Why do we so often want what we can’t have?

And one left over for the dogs: Spinning around and around in circles before laying down. Even when they are trying to lay on hard wood or carpet… This goes back to when they would have to lay down in tall grasses, they would flatten them down and make a tiny nest-like place to slumber.

Ah, there are so many more for us though, but there’s my jumping point. Do you have any glaring ones?

So much to think about.

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“They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions”. I hear Lauryn Hill in my head singing this one loud, on repeat, echoing behind me when I am being attacked and tormented by the Ironic Jukebox that lives deep inside my cerebral cortex.  Haven’t you experienced this? Like when you (I) offer the lady your seat on the bus because she is pregnant and it seems too obvious that there is no way she is not carrying? But she is not, and now you biffed big time? Because you got up cheerfully, telling her that she needs it more because of the baby inside?… This is about good deeds gone bad. This is not to disuade anyone ever from doing something kind, but is to draw on the comical, the ironic, and the ridiculous boomerang effect that takes place every now and again when you have nothing but good thoughts in mind. I think it just might the devil on dial. Somehow he temporarily dislodged from the hot gates of hell and he’s at the control board and the mo-fo has got some dark-ass-humor. Kiiiinda dig it.

That being said, I’ve been feeling rather spritely lately. I’m thinking the spring has shaken something loose.  Makes we wanna do something nice for the sake of nothing in particular. I wanna skip but I don’t because I want my lady-swagger, so I move cat-walk style on the streets and around town, and skip a bunch on the inside. Despite it raining like a maniac today (I think Mother Nature is PMSing or something), people out here are starting to stir and be over-the-top sweet to each other. Anyone else out there take notice of this?

Ex: People stop when I try to cross the street. Don’t matta if there are a bunch of cars behind them and I could have just as easily taken the cross walk. Or there are no cars behind them and they could have gone at regular speed and not made such a grand gesture of an event by slowing down and stopping unnecessarily. It’s dumb. I’m partially grateful because of the intention, but the rest of me actually prefers that people obey the rules of the road and get on with it. It’s simply more efficient. Don’t tell anyone that I said that I appreciate a rule. Please. Ok.

Today I was walking my (radical) dog in the rain and decided to cross the street. I was waiting on the curb for the cars to go by (and no, I wasn’t standing in the street) and a car stops out of nowhere for me to cross~ creating a pile up. For fucks sake. Nice one.

It’s the thought that counts?

Several years ago, in my hippy-nouveau days, I took this yogic workshop that focused on Ujjayi breathing. (I was the youngest person there and it blew my (not so) baby mind to be mixing with all of these middle-age, innocuously-strange, middle-class, workers -something rare in Portland as we are a town of retired 30-somethings.) It was a week-long workshop consisting of homework and practice routines and everything. Very involved. One of our assignments was to perform a random act of kindness. I was determined to be as unique and creative as possible. I talked to my roommate at length about ideas which he shot down repeatedly with the caveat of my actions being misinterpreted. Finally he left for work and I was left to my own devices. I wanted to do something that would reach completely stray people. I wanted to encourage them and have them think somebody out there really cared. I settled on the idea of writing anonymous love letters to strangers. Yes I sure did! Phone book in my lap, I pointed slapdash, at where ever my finger landed, wrote down their names and addresses, and mustered up some genuine sentiment for each person. I really tried to meditate on who they were and what kind of message they might have been needing. I felt the vibes. And really- who knows? Maybe the universe brought it. Either way, I did. And I did it 10x. I made ten different personalized and pretty envelopes. I wrote things along the lines of acting like I was someone from their past or someone on the periphery who had noticed big and beautiful changes and growth in them, and I wanted to acknowledge and applaud them in that… This likely took several hours. I do not recall. It sure felt good though! Off to the depths of the mailbox they went, and when my roommate got home and inquired about my project, acted slightly horrified. “What if you cause a fight between couples?” “What if someone thinks their man is cheating with you (but of course I hadn’t included a return address)?” “What if they get scared that they are being watched?!” Well shit. The god-damn flip side. Buzzzzz kill. Good intentions gone awry? I may never know.

One other example I will give you is as follows. It was a couple of summers ago, on a particularly hot day. I was walking passed a highly foot-trafficked intersection where this dude was laying, passed-out on the ground. I swear I watched a bus pull up, people get out, and walk around the guy. Nobody stopped. Now granted, dude was gnarly looking. Crusty street kid, probably in his late twenties/ early thirties. He was shirtless, black pants, tattoos all around, and homey was frying there on the sidewalk. For really red. Zoinks! So up I go to see if I can help. I whisper gently to him and rouse him from his drug induced sleep. His eyes rolled slowly from the back of his head as he looked around trying to get his bearings. I informed him that he was passed out in the middle of the sidewalk and that he better go find some shade if he needs to sleep because he was burning baby burning. He got up, dazed and confused (no really! I get it now!) and stumbled into the street, nearly causing a few accidents, and smashing hard into this old man. He thinks the old man pushed him, so he pushes the poor old guy into the street! Luckily there were no cars there at the moment! I had created a monster. I truly considered calling the police. Eesh.

Anyways, those are two of my tales of the flip side of things. I have no moral to this story. Shit happens. Moral enough for ya?

I would love to hear your experiences along these lines. Entertain me por fa!

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How about some lawful entertainment? …I’m following the rules today! Well- with my eyes, that is. Fingers too. By proxy. Aaaand that’s about it- but you gotta start somewhere. And I am transferring some  still on record legal stipulations that could and in some cases did/ do(?!) land folks in hot water, complete with some commentary by yours truly. Easy entertainment, babes.

As you’re reading this I encourage you to think about the scenarios behind the makings of these laws.  I mean come on- for something to get passed from a bill through the house and make it all the way to a shiny law is a big to-do. There are some wing-nuts out there for sheezy. But you already knew that… Ju ready?

Alabama: It is illegal to wear a fake mustache that causes laughter in church. They might distract from the hilarity of toupees.

Alaska: Whispering in someone’s ear while he’s moose hunting is prohibited. Save the sexy, primal, hunter/ gatherer build up for the campsite fellas’.

Arizona: Cutting down a cactus may earn you a twenty-five-year prison term. Cacti advocates unite.

Arkansas: It’s illegal to mispronounce the name of the state of Arkansas. Someone’s sensitive.

California: You may not eat an orange in your bathtub. See?? They don’t have all the fun!

Colorado: It is unlawful to lend your vacuum cleaner to you next-door neighbor (Denver).  One can only begin to imagine what they tried to clean up.

Connecticut: A pickle cannot be a pickle unless it bounces. 5 second rule?

Delaware: It’s illegal to get married on a dare. Clearly they had this law in place before the days of double-dog-dares ever came into existence.

Washington, D.C: It’s against the law to post a public notice calling someone a coward for refusing to accept a challenge to a duel. Are signs on telephone polls considered public notices? How official are we talking? Ads in the Five and Dime? Is gossip a safe, lawful form of information spreading?

Florida: If you tie an elephant to a parking meter, you must pay the same parking fee as you would for a vehicle. This is a very good reason for road rage. So unfair when they park an elephant in prime locations!

Georgia: It’s illegal to change the clothes on a storefront mannequin unless you draw the shades first. Guess you gotta go pay for porn.

Hawaii: All residents may be fined for not owning a boat. Yes! Tax the poor!

Idaho: A man must not give his sweetheart a box of candy weighing fewer than fifty pounds. Hmmm… some insight into the obesity problem maybe? Competitive gift giving and chocolate eating. What a match.

Illinois: It’s illegal to take a French poodle to the opera (Chicago). I can just imagine the pair that tried to bring their snooty, snotty dog into the place. Muffy and Chaz.

Indiana: The value of pi is 4, and not 3.1415. You know, that is what is so great about math. It’s so flexible.

Iowa: One-armed piano players must perform for free. Damn, not even half price? No love. This does make perfect sense, as mastery of any instrument with one hand verses two requires no skill. No skill= no pay.

Kansas: It’s illegal to throw knives at men wearing striped suits. Polka dots make much better targets.

Kentucky: Every citizen is required to take a shower once a year. If only they would make this law in Portland for people on the bus. And in NY for people on the subway. And multiply it by 12. Ok 24. Fine 48.

Louisiana: Biting someone with your natural teeth constitutes simple assault, but biting someone with your false teeth classifies as aggravated assault. Man’s law.

Maine: If you keep your Christmas decorations on display after January 14, you’ll be fined. Like it’s gonna pull the snow away or something?

Maryland: It’s against the law to wash or scrub a sink, no matter how dirty it is (Baltimore). Umm ew?

Massachusetts: No gorilla is allowed in the backseat of any car. Clearly they’re fine at least w/ them driving there. Zing! And I’m thinking maybe that’s who was in charge of putting all those one-way streets everywhere inconvenient. Eh? Eh?

Michigan: A woman may not cut her own hair without her husband’s permission. Michigan: Home of the wuzbands. 

Minnesota: It is illegal to paint a sparrow with the intent of selling it as a parakeet. Hahahahaha.

Mississippi: Walking a dog without dressing it in diapers is forbidden (Temperance). I have a solution. Yes- this really exists! And there are choices!! Rear gear

Missouri: Children may buy shotguns in Kansas City, but not toy cap guns. Somethings just make sense.

Montana: It’s a felony for a wife to open her husband’s mail. As it should be.

Nebraska: Bar owners may not sell beer unless they brew a kettle of soup simultaneously. Beer soup anybody? Or is it just borsht by default? Safe guesses.

Nevada: It’s illegal for men with mustaches to kiss women. Finally the government is on my side.

New Hampshire: It’s forbidden to sell clothes you’re wearing to pay off a gambling debt. You KNOW this was a Very Sad Night for dude. Oof.

New Jersey: It’s against the law for a man to knit during the fishing season. Really pissed off the fish community.

New Mexico: Females may not appear unshaven in public. Did Santa Fe secede? 

New York: While riding in an elevator, you must talk to no one, fold your hands, and look toward the door. I fantasize about performing social experiments in elevators all the time. Like: “So! How are you? What’s the best thing about today? Are you comfortable talking to strangers? What’s the craziest thing you ever did with a stranger? What’s the craziest thing you would do with a stranger? Have you ever heard Love in an Elevator? You ever made love in an elevator? Would you?” etc. The tip of the iceberg.

North Carolina: It’s against the law to sing off-key. Meanies. Hey! Wait! Are there any famous singers that came out of this place?! So discouraging! Look what happened. Poor singingless suckers. 

North Dakota: It’s illegal to lie down and fall asleep with your shoes on. Or wake up with no eyebrows and cocks drawn all over your face? O wait, that’s party town rule, not U.S. wide…

Ohio: You must honk the horn whenever you pass another car, according to the state’s driver’s education. That’s just annoying. Nothing cheeky for you, Ohio.

Oklahoma: It’s forbidden to take a bite out of another person’s hamburger. Good, no one wanted your boring, middle of nowhere burger anyway, fatty.

Oregon: State law requires the dishes to be drip-dried. What. the. hell.

Pennsylvania: It’s illegal to sleep on top of a refrigerator outdoors. I am NEVER moving there. Settled. 

Rhode Island: You may not bite off another person’s leg. Yes it really is their law. But what is striking to me is it seems to imply that the leg may not be bitten off with one swift munch, right? What about slow or even tender, calculated nibbles? Fork and knife? So civil.

South Carolina: If a man promises to marry an unmarried woman, he is required by law to keep his promise. Did anyone else just get Meatloaf in their heads? No? How about now? 

South Dakota: It is illegal to lie down and fall asleep in a cheese factory. Concluding the fact that the moon is NOT made out of cheese. 

Tennessee: Selling hollow logs is strictly forbidden. Walkin’ on the wild side.

Texas: You may not shoot a buffalo from the second story of a hotel. In Texas you face a buffalo like a real man. Mano a mano. Buffalo ain’t got nothing if you’re a real cowboy.

Utah: It is illegal not to drink milk. I am a total rebel in Utah! Yes!

Vermont: Women must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth. Haaaaaaaaa! “Only when we go out, baby.” Ah! Too. many. jokes. Bottlenecking!!

Virginia: Ticking a woman is unlawful. L is for Lame. At least amend it so that you can’t tickle a chica until she pees, but not a tickle? Not even one? Oh wait- I don’t care.

Washington: It’s illegal to pretend that one’s parents are wealthy. Do you think that some sucka rich babe of ripe dating age got conned by some slickster chap who brought it like it wasn’t? Parents didn’t ‘ppreciate that one, no sir.

West Virginia: If you make fun of someone who does not accept a challenge, you risk a six-month prison sentence. Wow. Touchy.

Wisconsin: Unless a customer specifically requests it, margarine may not be substituted for butter in a restaurant. Well, it is safer with butter it seems. I remember hearing about a test where two bowls were left in a rat infested warehouse. Butter went gone. Margarine went untouched. Supposedly. A la yuck.

Wyoming: Unless you have an official permit, you may not take a picture of a rabbit from January to April. They are more fit in the Spring? Bashful bunnies! New band name?

And I’m out. Hope you enjoyed. See you in Canada (;

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Here lies a formal request for a bit more of your attention in perusing the proceeding words than that of the ones that I normally post.

This is an interactive one, kids; reading far more effectively if you would please affix a fair and cheeky British accent to it, and at about the half way point, take on the cadence and musical accompanyment of the lullaby: “Hush Little Baby”…

Well! What do you know!? I just looked it up to make certain that the name was correct, and not say, called “Mockingbird” and guess what- it is British too!

We are smoking!

Ok, and I will let you know when the melody kicks in, so have no anxiety.

The background here is that this stems from an ongoing debate that I have been privy to a few times concerning “average and normal” people taking anti-depressant medication to “be even happier”. Yes, this is on the table now. The implications are rather tremendous, as it holds thought processing (and emotional, spiritual, intellectual, life experience… growth) in the balance. It’s a popular discussion.

When happy is just not good enough… I thought of it as what follows~

(((accent begins now)))

Life is like holiday with cosmetic neurology-

Where everything good just got BETTER.

When you look at ya’ mug and your face is just snug, rest assured- you’re no longer a fretter.

You say you are fine; no nagging complaints, or major frights.

But you’re human and bound to get nervous.

So riddle me this and you’ll owe me a kiss as for you do I ever have a service!

Now what would you say, aside from that I made your day, if I told you that you might never loose your smile?

Could you ever believe that sheer bliss could be achieved, by yours truly if you’d listen short while?

Well I’ll bring the news that comes in capsules and tubes, while you put these in your mouth and say bye bye to the blues…

<< begin lullabye tune now (moderate amount of pep)>>

Say so long to the wayward ups and downs.

Farewell to the questions that ran you around.

Be gone with the wonder and daily stresses of life.

Am I enticing and tickling your fancy allright??

So let’s say the perma-grin that your working towards,

starts to crack the skin- it’s not much of a chore.

There’s no need to fret over a tiny few wrinkles.

Don’t like what you see? Here- just take these pink pills.

Now we’re hopped up on meds and it swimmies our heads, but we’re happier now then anyone ever named Fred.

It’s ok if your voice sounds pinched a couple of octaves,

or you have a sinking sensation,

or feel trapped in a cockpit.

The side affects are nil and the benefits gargantuan,

For ever so happy, who needs thoughts to think upon?

Blindly trust in the pharma-biz, and trust in your doc.

Have faith in big business; replenish your stock.

No more regular worries’- you’re not a plebe.

And don’t listen when the poor folks say your soul has been thieved.

This is nearly as natural as God had intended~

why else would we provide

a way that your enbended introspection’s been untied??

My case has been stated and your comfortably convinced~~~

that being just ok in these days is actually the pits.

So be a good lass and an upstanding gent.

Pop this pill and lets all get crazy bent.

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This one goes out to the throngs of good men who are single and are unsure why… Sometimes we are our own worst enemies, and it takes another person a bit further away and with a different vantage point to fill you in on what you keep missing. Please do not feel insulted~ it’s all the purest of intentions. And I’m feeling generous. Altruistic. To the point. And, after all~ the world is absolutely a better place when we’re getting loving.

This entry is intended as a self-help guide of sorts. You can use it as a checklist. And your secret is safe with me. If you look in the mirror to find yourself fitting a no-no here, fear not, you can change and grow. You are strong and versatile. Great things are abreast. And you’re welcome.

These are a refined, thought-about-at-length, discussed over many drinks with many a pretty lady, collection of reasons why you might not be getting any nookie, mixed and fixed with a fair collection of “don’ts”.

Trench coats. C is no longer for cookie. If you are wearing a trench coat, you look like a Creep. And I’m sorry. But you’re sorrier. I can’t believe you didn’t get the memo. You’re not getting any *%^*# because women think you’re into Dungeons and Dragons. Or that you have some vampire slayer complex. Or you’re a wanna-be bounty hunter. Or you never left that 90’s hair band phase. You know- the one that stayed in the 90’s?

Sweat and the rules of the dance floor. If you are cute and we like you, we will be happy to talk to you. If you are sweaty from shaking it, that’s fine. Go on with your bad self! Maybe we can even dance together. BUT- if you are very sweaty, please refrain from hugging us. Or putting your arm around us. Yes, it’s difficult to resist, but it will serve you in the long run. Withhold hug now=earn hugs later. This is good, sound advice. Believe me.

Pinky rings. Don’t. Just don’t. You’re not Kanye. K? And that’s all right. We just want you to be yourself. Just not in that thing. It’s creepy and makes you look like a washed up cocaine dealer. Bad bad bad. Ok, stop laughing and put it away. You are not the exception.

Flossing. You feel inconvenienced by flossing. Really? This is part of basic maintenance. If you don’t like your mouth bleeding, rest assured that this will stop once your gums adjust to human touch. Suck it up and initiate your mouth to cleanliness. Think of it as being in a really cool (and necessary) gang. The blood is just part of getting jumped in. (Applies to ladies too)

Mustaches. You had to know this one was coming. I don’t know why, where, or how you recently got the idea that this above the lip fuzz is hip, but I feel like none of you ever consulted with those of us that you are aiming to impress with your dashing good looks. Um, hello? The skinny is this: you have been misinformed. If you talk to one lady who favors this ickyness, she is the 1%. We are the 99%! If you are below the age of 50, and you have hair above your lip that is independent of, and disconnected to other hair on your face, it’s time to grab a razor. Waste no time! If you are not a cop, you have no business with one of these things. Plus they get all nasty when you are eating and drinking, and they also don’t feel very good where we want everything to feel really good. Smell what I’m cooking?

Cologne/ Oil/ Smell. This is a case where less is more. We appreciate and applaud your daily shower regiment. We do. We really do. If and when (because it happens) you do not have an opportunity to bathe, do not cover up in a masking smell. The truth is that you then stink like B.O. and cologne had a bastard child. This is a bad baby. Nobody wants to hold this baby. A tip: Alcohol neutralizes your odor, so grab a cotton ball, go to the emergency kit, and swab away. Then reapply deodorant. Optimally you will shower, but sometimes that’s not an option. There is always an alternative. Also, on the topic of deodorant, please please please select one that is not over powering in odor. This especially affects us because you are often taller than us, and you must remember where our noses get squeezed into sometimes when you hug us. Contrary to the commercials, we do not want you to spray Axe across your chest. Deodorant is intended to eliminate odor, not create a new, choking, powdery one. Blech. (ladies too! please!)

Standards of Initial Contacting. May-haps it’s because I was in a relationship for the better part of the last 3 years until semi-recently, that this one slipped by me and now I am in regular awe of it… Texting. Ok. Let’s break it down. It was lovely, “back in the day”, when a gentleman would take our number, waiting the proper amount of time (4 days on average; demonstrating his coolness, collectedness, and certain lack of desperation) before calling. Then he would call, and we would have a conversation. Like a real conversation. Not one sentence ping-ponged back and forth between waves of radiation. And this person would be new (no facebook stalking or preemptive question satiating before actual contact) and the conversation was or wasn’t. Simple. Now the accepted standard is that we give our number and can expect a text with in the next 1-3 days/ later that night. So the amount of time between has been shortened on account of the speedy connected world we live in. Here’s where I come in with advice: we still want a phone call. A text is impersonal and not demonstrative of your boldness, confidence and bravery. Take a chance! We like your voice. That’s why we want to talk to it. Worst that happens? We don’t like it, and guess what~ it’s a big, sexy sea of fish out there. Knowwhadimsayin?                                                                                                                                                                                                      *Another note- if you called a lady or texted her more than 2x and haven’t had a response, she is more than likely just not interested. She may just not know how to say it. Move along> think big sexy ocean lapping away happily. Next time!

Donald Ducking. There will never be a point within the comfort that you feel with or towards another human being where this will be ok. If you don’t know what this means, be certain to look it up. It’s a major no-no. I don’t care if you’re 25 years deep together. I am telling you so that you know very well: this is a BAD look. I hardly recommend this in private; it’s better not to tempt the habit. If you must change the order in which you dress/ undress, so it goes. Also, while on the topic, always make sure to take off your socks during sex. Not hot.

Well, that about wraps it up for my unsolicited yet o-so-necessary advice. May you walk away smarter, with more confidence and swagger… and at the very least… your pants on.

 

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And so it goes… It’s arguable that life is perfect. That everything comes just at the right time. That our struggle against the flow is trivial, wasteful, and pointless, as what is due is on its way. Even in moments of sadness do I recognize that I have had and will have once again in the future~ my time to shine.

How is the proof of perfection measured? Why in the little things, of course. In those tiny, serendipitous experiences that align our moments in the strangest and most unexpected of ways.

Today a colleague and myself were having a totally random conversation about accents. I was telling her that how it would be super interesting to study accents  in the U.S. in relation to how and when they were brought over, and how and when they began to become distilled and eventually shed, as westward expansion gained momentum. ( As you likely know, the British colonized from the East coast and moved west, so by default accents are by far the strongest in New England and then of course, the South.)

I have always gotten a kick out of linguistics and etymology, but never thought much of the connection between expansion and settlement from the 1600’s affecting our very diction now! Amazing! Anyways, so these were my thoughts~ there you go, now they are yours. (Tawk amongst ya’selves.)

When I came home today, my colleague had sent me an article from mental floss magazine that was sent to her today. So take a guess about the content. Go on. You know you want to… Ok, ok. “When Did Americans Lose Their British Accents?“. Yes kids; that was sent to her. It’s a pretty interesting and neat little ditty too. Scope it! …Now you tell me~ do you believe in coincidence, or do you think it’s far too random? I’m not sure what the source of Godliness/ Goddessness or wild, beautiful deity presence is out there, but I do feel pretty confident that I just got winked at.

Love it.

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There are two kinds of people in the United States who will sit down next to a perfect stranger on the same park bench when there are other ones in the nearby area that remain unoccupied:

1) A person that wants you, or has something that they hope you want

2) Drunks

It is not unusual for me to take my bike and point it towards the direction of an adventure I hope to come upon.Often times I will ride westward towards the esplanade of the city. The latter part of the ride itself is lovely; over the river, next to the train tracks suspended above the water on tremendous, whiny, old, wooden beams. For the many who are yet to be familiar with Portland town, the esplanade is a long stretch of sidewalk that is on both sides of our river, the Willamette, dividing the city respectively into east and west. As you can imagine, there is a good ebb and flow of foot traffic here at every hour. There are joggers, bike riders, people strolling, destitute folks, people recovering from another long night of drinking, drugging, or just plain ol’ being homeless and snoozing there. There are people taking photos, people reading or drawing, musicians playing together…

I came down to the river the particular day in question to wrap myself up in the gentler flow of the city. Equipped with sketchpad, writing book and an array of pens of different thicknesses, I sat. I looked into the river and at the passers bye, hoping that the words would begin to collect themselves for me. Gather anytime my fantastic friends. Inspiration? I’m here.

Stage left, in come this rather large fellow. He seated himself next to me on the bench. No invitation needed for public benches, true, but when there are other vacant benches, don’t most people know to take one of those? It’s one of those unspoken social cues that we all adhere to and accept. (Similar to the unspoken rule in the men’s rest room where when using the urinal you go to the one at the very end, and each next guy to get up to use the john goes as far as possible from the other user. Right? Yes, woman know these things (woman, did you know about this?!) (We are so lucky that we get to pee together!).) So there we are: me with my pen, dutifully sussing out a brilliant topic bound to dawn any minute, with a slight distraction due to my new bench mate who was fairly odorous (boozy stank); and he, a rather lumbering fellow with a large presence that had a slightly jumbled and wayward feel, along with a subtle allure that peaked my interest an itty bitty bit. Microscopicly so.

He began talking and asking me questions that were just fluff and I felt that he was hoping to find a friend in me. I was still absorbed in my hopes of creation, also hoping he would leave, albeit humoring him despite my disdain for superficial conversation for the sake of conversing. Well whaddaya know, he pretty much talked to me until I was hooked. It’s when you least expect it, kiddies. Hints of his story splintered through the fluff of simple monologue and he had my attention. He got me, like a slow drug would: Methodical and persistant administration.

And the verbal foreplay had reached a point where I wanted to know more. Impatiently awaiting. Maybe he would get it out and then I would have some fodder. That was when he became distant and when I realized I was, in fact, an asshole. He wasn’t going to just give it up. I had taken this man for granted because he sat down next to me,  and I had assumed that his routine was the same old song and dance number I had seen exacted so many times before: drunkard with loose lips, talking to who ever will listen. I didn’t feel special or “chosen” and I had taken him to be very open. I forgot, and was slapped with the reminder- there are still sacred tales behind eyes the of those souls who seem broken.

Finally, it came.

His story. True as sin.

Drunk Native American.

Big, lost man.

Ancient myth.

Vagabond.

This story unfolded in such a fashion, becoming absolutely one of the most beautiful and humbling tales that I have ever heard.

Somewhere in the Southwest a large man once lay. A sterile gown. A white bed. Eyes shut. A coma had claimed him from nights and days of exessive drinking. A coma that turned days into weeks and turned weeks into months. Doctors and attendees stood by, idly. Deep sleep of an undisturbable variety. Dreams showed no presence, playing on the lids of no eyes.

A small number of people were left in his life. Bridges had been burned and pain had struck chords, severing ties with too much weight to mend. The tiny amount of loved ones left came to visit. Trickling in slower than tales of tortoise. They whispered and they prayed. They cried. They talked to him. Different tactics eliciting nothing.

His uncle came one day to his bedside, this time bringing desert Sage. In the hospital room the bundle was lit, and the man in the starched gown was smudged. Did they treat him like a lost spirit? His body was brushed with sacramental smoke. His face washed clean with the scent. The big man’s nose… began to twitch.

This was seen.

A break through. A big deal. But the end of the road, as nothing else dented the difference between the standing and laying in the room again. Not even Sage. Not for weeks in spite of multiple tries.

Weeks later another family member came carrying family heirloom in tow; an instrument used in ceremony. A beautiful, simple rattler. A rattler that had guided this family in the hogan. A rattler that his ears knew. The sound of the desert. The sound of wheat tufts dancing in the breeze. A song of nature. Perhaps the sound of home.

The big man lay completely still. When the rattler was shaken- up rose his hand, mimicking the movement. As if to shake the tools, as if it was he, making the noise.

Weeks lapsed once again, and intermittently his responses shortened the amount of days between the stretches of stillness.

It was these visits, featuring different family members, presenting an instrument, a scent, a song, that brought him to, eventually.

Finally one day he awoke, and slowly reoriented himself with the world. Reacquainted himself with his family. Embraced the ways with which he was raised. Got back on his feet. This is not to say that his base was solid, or suddenly he was resilient to his demons and the challenges that awaited. He was still a weak man who’s best friend and worst enemy were combined to be found at the bottom of the bottle, with a call that over powered the rest. But his sense of self, his sense of spirituality, his understanding of connectivity and family… all these things were bestowed upon him. Refreshed. Now, if he were to die, he knew where and how he would go, and that it would be his time, and his journey would be safe.

Thank you for reading. Aho. 

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