345/365

the night we sat on the roof
taking turns and dares to
jump into the tree. proving
invincibility with reckless
pique- the popularity we hated
and reluctantly chased only to ignore
partying down in our house now.
the one with the indestructible floorboards
and its very own harem.
i’ll go down soon and yell at them
to leave- they will not enjoy what they
threw away. later by a fire
after midnight, another quiet song
and the soundtrack to this memory making.
i’m so light i hold just one breath
and go back to my nest
sleep with innocence. all of youth
is one long night.

184/365

partner | ˈpɑːtnə | noun

a person who takes part
in an undertaking
with another or others,
especially in a business or firm friendship
with shared risks and profits.

tracing a friendship back
to its big bang moment,
especially after thirty-five years
can be daunting and a bit hazy.

was it the first time this person
entered your consciousness:
eighth grade-
he was small like me,
poor(er) like me,
operated on the periphery like me
and wore a red gotcha surf shirt
that didn’t seem to fit right every time
i see him in my mind’s eye.

was it the first time this person
spoke to you:
ninth grade-
“a few of us are going to jason’s house
to play basketball. you should come.
wanna ride our bikes over there together?”

that exchange has to be what explains
the existence of the observable universe
of this relationship.

it took
one extended hand
one invite
one act of openness
or maybe it was desperation (on his part)
that led to this collection of
memories,
experiences,
jobs,
confessions,
adventures,
addresses,

1313 fourth street.
1576 south novato boulevard.
1024 forth street.
1468 haight street.
524 natoma street.

circling the shows every saturday
for the upcoming month in the pink datebook
scalping tickets on market street,
waiting in the lines,
loud drives to shoreline, the coliseum and san jose,
short walks to the warfield and the filmore:
pearl jam, nine inch nails, rage against the machine,
alice in chains, soundgarden, show after show,
in between working at pier 23, waiting for the n judah,
painting the bus green and the purple shag carpet
losing a week in montana,
that strange night in chicago,
dc, new orleans, eastern arizona.

there is library of what needs
to be said about us—
the fragments of any big bang
float and form this universe,
too much flotsam and jetsom
to make sense of,
in the end it will all feel like
a flash of chaos,
a sped up highlight reel,
we’ll want to desperately slow down,
stop and saviour.

i always hoped the years we spent
together in our youth would last a life time,
but the quips and gifs on our phones,
feel inadequate.

the well of memory never runs dry,
but the future demands more.
miss you partner.
till the next time.

170/365

maybe the best indicator of success
is not knowing the indicators of success.

was he jealous—
brushing his teeth
on this gloomy first day of summer,
—of his friend, whose draft novel
he was reading and blown away by,
the friend who also owned two houses,
and judging by the prose knows
many things about many things.

he, the friend, probably
also has extensive knowledge
about investing,
and retirement accounts,
and nest eggs,
and cryptocurrencies.

he, this protagonist,
has been chewing
on the concept of ambition
lately and not sure he can
identify the taste.

maybe the best indicator of success
is not knowing the indicators of success.

Loved and Left Alone

You may have seen this morning that Mairin posted something about the girls asking for the “entertain us” song from the film Pan.


This is another song that came to Kaia’s attention after Soul Asylum. Yup, they love themselves some Smells Like Teen Spirit. This makes me happy beyond belief, but I am not thrilled that they see it as a backing track for some Peter Pan movie.


“You know Kaia- this song was famous well before the movie Pan, and the band that created it changed music history.”
“Yeah, daddy, but the guy singing does sound like Black Beard.” Skyelar.


Oh dear.


So tonight when we go back from dinner at East Coast park I sat both girls down after getting in our pyjamas and brushing out teeth and showed them the official Smells Like Teen Spirit. What follows is our conversation:


“I don’t get it. Why are there cheerleaders?”
“Well, this band was a voice for lots of kids who felt voiceless. They were commenting on the traditional idea of what was cool.”
“Like who?”
“Well kids that were not popular in the traditional sense. Kids who felt misunderstood and unloved.”
“There are kids like that?”
“I was a kid like that. Sometimes kids just are just misunderstood and thankfully they can find a voice in songs and music.”


Silence.


“He was an angry depressed person, but he was also an amazing painter, sculptor, artist and musician.”
“What was he so upset?”
“It’s hard to know what makes people so upset, but he was in a lot of pain?”
“Is he dead?” Skyelar.
“Actually, yes. He killed himself.”
“Well that is stupid.” Skyelar
“Yeah, it is not a good idea.”


“Let’s watch another video from a concert they did that was acoustic. It will give you another view of their music. This song is called Oh Me.”
“I thought they only had three members. Who is that guy?”
“He is a special friend who played just on his concert. Anyway, this is an important band that you should know about. Their music is important and it is bigger than just a cover in the movie Pan.”
“Good night dad. That video was weird and I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to get it right now, or ever actually, Just let the music move you however it needs to move you.”

…

Close your eyes and birth a memory:


Driving in San Rafael in Anthony’s car. It is a silver Honda- a mess of CD’s jewel cases and sunflower seeds. We are behind the SRHS taking the hills at speeds that can’t be safe. He is leaning back and daring the road to make a wrong turn. At one point two of the wheels are up up on the dirt wall to our left. Check Your Head is blaring through the cheap speakers that can barely hold on:


Free your mind, it's time for good times
And let yourself move, it's a time to shine
Spread your wings in the sky, feelin' good inside
Breaking fool with no need to hide
I got the music cuttin' through me
Takin' control of my soul
I can't hold back, I've got to let go


Not sure where we are headed, but we are in a hurry to get there and the windows are down and the wind is aggressive. Anthony is pounding on the steering wheel, while I am pretending not to be scared and keeping it cool. Skid marks and screeching tires. The smell of rubber and honking horns. Near misses. We are a menace to the quiet Country Club hill. Who let these guys in? With their damaged car and broken spirits? Slow down boys…not a chance sir


Who is the man comin' down your block?
It's me you see with the funk in my walk
Cause I'm doin' just what I like to
Today is my day yeah, and I'mma get nice too
You gotta keep movin', and you can't say nothing
I'mma keep bouncin' and bumpin' and stuffin'
One thing you ought to know
Well, I am the maestro

…

All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved and left alone.
Put me on a pedestal and say you love me; ignore me.
Don’t make too big of a deal when you shower me with praise.
You embarrass us both when you do that-
don’t stop: love me discretely.
I've always wanted to be popular and accepted by the people I hate, so I could tell them that I don't really care.
Some day the teen angst will go away.
I'll grow up and die.
Until then,
we’ll have bad late night poetry and pixilated
scribbled gibberish.
It's okay to eat fish because they haven't any feelings.

In A Rut

In case you haven't noticed, I have been in a bit of a rut lately. While friends occasionally send advice, most of it, as is often the case when one is feeling blue, simply rolls of my back and is ignored; this latest email made sense. I cannot be held responsible for how many of the items I will actually realize, but it made me smile and feel warm to know that someone out there is actually trying to live the life they preach.

Thank you Anthony.

Recipe:

Don't have a Facebook account.

Run or walk without listening to music. But listening.

Make a dinner from scratch, or whole "real" foods.

Have a meaningful conversation with a person you love.

Think about how great your day was and how lucky you are to be alive.

Do butterfly abs or three sets of plank.

Drink tea.

Think about pickling.

Listen to a Podcast from TAL, Fresh Air or Planet Money.

Sleep with purpose.

Wake up.

Repeat.

Anything you would like to add?