here again. don’t know how, don’t know why. but the feeling just kicks in: the itchiness to write something out of the blue, and without reason. and then one day you’d be on a block. or maybe just lazy or too busy to write. oh, well.
used to be on the internet all day. more than 8 hours to say the least. wonder how i did all of that eye strain? that was during the time when i would walk around streets and buildings all day. passed by the jamba juice, then get a korean bbq lunch, then back to the darklit room. the time when supposedly a year of no work would keep me on top of things. of course, no slangin’ involved. just an application of faulty financial forecasting and cost accounting. on the other hand, slangin’ reminded the usual handshake in sunset district where they slip the twomp underneath your hand. that was way back. a healthy body is needed for some clearance. still, some streetsmart dudes could identify someone working undercover at a store in japantown.
this one guy who hailed from sactown: rn. moved out and lived in san jo to learn life. wonder where he’s at right now. his friend would pretend to call for backup while a riot was about to start at a club along heggenberger. the instant reminded me of this former activitist while eating at a thai restaurant in mountain view. going back… wonder what happened to rn whom i used to kick it with even though his place was 40 minutes away from mine. his gf must have gotten him all laid back. we would go to ug parties at this red brick building at bezerkeley. couple blocks after jack in the ass, the first time i saw coolio alain octavo spinning. snowboarding in tahoe the entire day, to old school metropolis at san hoe until 6am, to the 24-hour pho place at lyons. i also recalled going down to san jo at 4am coz he lost his car keys somewhere inside maritime hall, hydroplaning at a rainy 6am morning along the freeway to sf, and then back to his crib again. crazy times, i tell ya.
that was way back in the day. everything seemed like yesterday, like remembering metallica’s ‘one’ guitar tablature and reconstructing its every notation on top of my head. learned playing it 11 years ago. of course, ‘and justice for all ‘came out in ’89, the day the infamous earthquake shook sf. my former roommate was still watching the world series between the a’s and the giants at his folks’ pad in mountain view. milestones, i’d say.
henri matisse, ee cummings, escher. all who had exceptional skills; yet decided not to express themselves conventionally. my writing gives me a way of looking back with stimulation. ‘now why did i write this way?’ and so forth. the very linking of every past experience. my phrases do have nexuses to reality. every word is pieced to fit a couple of instances in my memory. would have written a thousand pages if all the details were included in every entry. although i do write in detail at times. the ghost beside me is already telling me to ask him if he cares. ‘sorry, homee; but i don’t either.’ haha.
yellow pentagon walls remind one of highschool classrooms. so jetblue has a good deal with coast-to-coast deals. just a heads-up.