...and it rains when it can't think of...

no offense, but this State is truly uninspired (has it ran out of ideas)? We have also-rans leading in the polls, and, it's like: could't we have more options than the old options? Is it no longer an option when it's the one you had before? Frustration for sure...when's the last great California leader (the ones I can think of are all no more). at least try something new...ugh. And the signs...signs that just scream, "this is all i got". I'd rather see the spoof signs, they're way less fail.

rain...rain. even snow. the land is enchanted once more, perhaps like an aging star putting on her pearls to feel pretty once again.

stores are closing by the buckets, it's a sight i haven't seen since the late 70s (pardon my age)...we're looking at years of this.

best we can do is come up with new ideas and stop politicizing every g*d damn thing that comes up. and the culture should come back around to the people and away from the uber-dreg.

"...we already hate each other..." 25sep10

drinking tea with condensed milk to soothe what little i have with a cold that started on Tuesday. have to fight it because of the berth of work that needs to get done. work here. work there. my inverted matter self, on the other side of the universe is working...inversely. either way, i'm working.

she was a brunette. it was styled like cameron richardson. her body was bolstered by her age, deliciously taunt.

i was stupid for not saying a thing. i'll be eternally flustered by women i'm attracted to: it can't be helped. her eyes were filled with light brown glints. a wide smile that was friendly.

i could tell a lot. she had been hurt before. it's obvious, but not grossly so. she protected herself from being hurt again: i can tell it was bad. like very bad.

i can't fathom it. i'd die before i could even think of it. don't understand.

new photo on deviant art. working on e-book. lulu sites must be pulled, so i'll have to re-point link to something else, once its done in a week. could've at least introduced myself, right?

...old stories/new ones...06sep10...

After getting some finalized artwork for "Pace", I wanted to dig a bit deeper in the containers of my youth for some fodder. Trust me: there's plenty of it.

However, come across some loose three-ring binder sheets, in a folder marked 'Gaming' (why not?), I came across a story from about 1994 (couldn't be earlier, I would've been in the Army at that point). The single paragraph was pretty simple: a classical-mythology story.

"Morlineus (ugh) and Tabitha". Basically, he loves her, she doesn't love him. He falls for someone else and she gets pissed. Tabitha makes a pact to try to vie for him again, but, like much of the classical world: it doesn't work out. Check it out here, renamed, thankfully, as "Teraku and Binjin".

These type of stories work best in a short format, so I've expanded it tonight. I'm teasing it and releasing it as a short e-book later this year (it'll be priced right...like free). Hopefully, you'll enjoy it and tool through the updates on Pace as well.

Sharing Moments Across Time (02SEP10)

Canning corn relish a Saturday night is not typical. I know. What it does for me, and what cooking can do for us, is re-connect us with those we once knew. Grandma B- wasn't even related to me: only related in the 'mother's second husband's mother' sort of way. She was an amazing Southern lady in every sense of the word: gentle, loving, and as sweet as molasses. Having swept through the South in my youth, I have an affinity for their generosity and grits.

We lived off of Aladdin drive, near Lincoln (in Anaheim), at one point. Grandma B- came to stay with us frequently, after my baby sister was born.

She made exotic foods that I only read about growing up (having an interest in cooking, in a purely theoretical sense, if you know my background of eating potato flakes straight out of the box): fresh baked bread, fried green tomatoes (the only good ones I've ever et) and canned preserves. I hovered around her fascinated.

The canning process is all about cleanliness, that's what floored me as a ten-year-old. Boil this, boil that, use only fresh towels, don't re-wipe, that's not good, that's got to go. Phew. I was exhausted watching her. But. Seeing that homemade apple butter spread was like magic. Apples, sugar, rendered. Huh? How did you get that from that? [emphasis should be there somewhere]

So, like Grandma B-, I hunkered down for about four hours and, come hell or high water, was going to make corn relish. It didn't involve pectin, which I'm a little leery about right now - and only involved natural ingredients. With canning, you really make a commitment to that batch: still fascinating as ever (ok, for those reading this, I should say "me").

You instantly connect with those moments in that hot little kitchen so many years ago. You can almost hear her voice guiding you on. She was patient, let me tell you.

Cooking is amazing in that it is solitary, but, ironically, shared. I am blessed to have so many great ladies in my life who have shown me how to cook well. They've shared great moments and I hope to pass it along to my little ruffians who may say the same one day when I'm gone. Although, I'm not nearly as patient...*woof.

...recompense...(26jul10)

Owing Someone a poem, I looked back to a prayer that was written sometime in the 14th century (sometime before 1334), Anima Christi. The original latin text is very beautiful, and mine is a poor homage to the original writer. As further homage to the original writer, I kept a tighter prose and beat with a 9(x5 a,a)/14(x3 a,a) combination.

What is to love for the original latin is the sparseness in its execution, making the prayer almost a plea (as many prayers are). Catholics may know the prayer as one to recite upon taking the Eucharist, surrendering to its immediancy with the Host upon their tongue:

"Soul of Christ, my sanctification
The Body of Christ, my salvation
Blood of Christ, my inebriation
Water from Christ's side: sin's ablution
Passion of Christ, our torment's lessened.

O Good Jesus, hear my plea:
Let me not be loosed from The.
To me, defend from devilry;
Bind me in eternity.
And, alike with saints before,
Kneel at Thy throne evermore. Amen"

Updates Abound (05JUL10)

All links available in the toolbar to the left.

Carpool, a short story, is being released to its own blog ("Stories")
More photos uploaded to Deviant Art.
Join my Twitter for #orangecounty food tips and snacks.
Store available at Cafe Press.

Not Opining One Little Bit

A subject of solicitude for me, as lower-middle class as I am, is the waterfalls beneath the Wonder tower at Disneyland Hotel.

As a child, my mother and I would frequent anything free to do in Orange County. The Disneyland Hotel was a favorite of course. When my parents were still together in the late 70s, we even stayed in the 'Oriental Gardens', which was a kitchen-suite. This had to have been right before the Fantasyland re-dux, since most of the area in the Park was just a series of painted drywall at the time. (Another area gone was the fish fry on Captain Hook's restaurant - now Dumbo.)

The Hotel up through the late 80s had a bustling center, including an international themed bazzar (many of those shops would make their way to Adventureland, or vice versa). The west facade of the arcade is still visible - which used to house the crystal blowers and a series of small shops with items from the 'Orient'. All of which was surrounded by a faux series of docks. Older kids would take their dates, find a secluded area to make out.

The docks of course sat on the southern end of the central lagoon, now the Neverland pool. The lagoon allowed for paddle boats, the RC boats, and, sunken on the north end of the lagoon, a recessed arcade. Imagine how cool it was in the 80s to go to one of the best arcades in Anaheim, under water. Yes, that's what I said.

The hotel lounges were 60s up-scale, so very basic lines and very light colors. A piano was played. Lapping pools of clear-toppped water outlined the main lounge. In its center was an asian themed bar. It was very posh, I'm sure just a decade before.

At one time, across from the Spaceport entrance, you had the Monorail Cafe, the Hotel store, a bar, a pool, and a series of small shops. Including the coolest toy store, since it wasn't the 'box', but really a toy boutique.

The Shipyard Inn, a great seafood restaurant, sat further down from the stores, a top the water. I still can't find a creamy, chunky lobster bisque like the one they used to serve. The service and atmosphere was terrific in a time when most up-scale restaurants were closing.

The problem of the Hotel, is something that has happened in Orange County in thirty years. The late 70s were an economic nightmare, the 80s were a period of struggle for the most part, then the 90s and now are 'reinventions' of everything. Especially where money can be made.

The simplistic idea of the Hotel was never to make it a destination. It just was a destination. Now, it's fallen from disinterest from the very thing it wasn't trying to be. Ironic, no?

Like Vegas, sometimes you have to create something that isn't trying to be special. It was special because it was there and it was free. How revolutionary is that?

I'll miss the dreamer who wandered the docks, the waterfall caves, enjoying a drink while pretending to be a world traveler in the lobby.