SushiPhobic

There are some amazing things out there that brightens the human spirit and ignores the fears of mankind's eventual evolution into beings of great worth...


I just didn't know that eating raw fish and seaweed compressed into rice balls was the arena in which we would prove ourselves. Yes, people, I actually ate sushi. I ate things normally picked out of ones swimsuits butt at the beach.


Christine always promised, nay, crusaded, that I must experience going to a sushi bar and enjoying the experience that is, sushi. I never had a reason to try anything that exotic before, and when I've been with her in the past, I'd be a big puss and eat such Japanese traditional favorites such as pumpkin pie and watermelon. That's the equivalent of going to a fine french cuisine and asking for the A1 sauce and a plate of frank n' beans. Godammn ugly American!

But This time, I promised her, promised, that I will actually eat sushi. With all the crap that's been happening to me, I thought it was way way too silly to fear these colorful flavor packets. I this was going to be the beginning of a crusade to abolish stupid fears and annoyances.

I had heard about the dollar a plate sushi night on Halloween at work. And this was right after I had walked into a cloud of flatulence that my co-worker, Stewart had thought he had stealthily released into the workspace. Not so ninja, and when I hit it, I reared up like a horse that was spooked by a snake.

But I digress. For those of you that has never walked into a Sushi Bar, it goes like this: It's a small small area with stools near this countertop with a conveyor belt of sorts, separating you from some surly guys making these artistic dishes. The conveyor belt rotates around the bar caring various plates of comestibles. The color of the plate determines how much the item will cost. When you're full, or sick, you motion an asian lady over who will count up your plates and give you a check.

You also have to master the chopsticks. Even though forks also rotate once in a blue moon, I hear if you grab one, a Ronin will jump out from behind a curtain you thought was the bathrooms, and disembowel you to the cheers of the customers. May not be true, but just try the chopsticks in case.

But jeez, a dollar a plate is a great deal. So much so, when Letty, Christine, Nikki, Greg, Jordan, and I, arrived, we had to wait standing about for over an hour. If you know Christine like I do, You never never never ever, evernever, deny her food when she's hungry. If she were a raccoon in a bear trap, she'd gnaw off her own leg for some sushi. She was about to start screaming at customers that they are already fat bitches and need to vacate, when we were mercifully sat down.

I sat between Nikki and Christine. I was told Nikki is the expert, and would treat my virgin palate like a gentle lover. Well, I was sort of told that.

And she did. She's gesture at a sushi roll and say things like, "you can start with that." or "that's fish, you wont want to do that yet". Christine took brilliant care of me and told me to just trust her, open my mouth, and eat...this. Don't nibble, just eat, chew, and swallow. Don't try to identify, or comprehend, just enjoy. Without hesitation, I took the roll and ate it.

And, it wasn't bad at all.

In fact, it was interesting to taste the textures and not know exactly what I was eating. I've never ate anything before without knowing what it would probably taste like. I ate this without any preconception. And it was quite liberating!

I tried another. And a spicier one! And a bolder one! And something that looked like old fried popcorn chicken ruminates. As it turned out, it was calamari...A squidy thingy. I ate fish! That is truly one of the sighs of End of Days!

As I ate it, all I thought was poor Admiral Akbar on the rebel star cruiser screaming, "It's a trap!!!", as Darth Vader breaded and deep fried his sorry ass. I was having culinary fun!

I use to be SushiPhobic, But I so enjoyed the experience with my friends, that I suggested that we so needed to do this again. Even Christine was proud of me, as I was.

So kids, let that be a lesson for all of you. Never walk by a gassy co-worker with your mouth open, and fear of the unknown isn't a real fear at all.

Happy Halloween folks, and try the Akbar, he's delicious.

Book of Regrets

Life is supposed to be funny, happy, easy, and safe.

Most of the times, is scary and sad. A crazy place where it seems all you do is hurt people.

I guess it's like that so when the safe times come, we appreciate it more. Or is it simply the worm on the hook: being that chicken on a skillet, ready to dance for someone Else's entertainment. I don't honestly know... But I do know this.

I know of a girl who's heart is braking. And there is nothing I can do.

I can't give any advice, because I truly don't have any answers. The variables make sense, and they all spell salvation or doom. And anyway you look at it, someone will end up broken and shattered.

I know this girl with a unique (or maybe not...) problem: She loves two guys, and she must choose one. The longer she can't decide, pains her so much, it makes me cry for her. She's dying inside, and whatever she chooses, someone looses.

Does she go with her older boyfriend: who is sweet and comforting, and has been loyal and safe. He's open emotionally, almost to an annoyingly fault. The one who gives her feelings of relevance, and importance. Who's love is so strong, it scares her at times. Or, does she brake up with him for the old flame that rolled back into her world. He one true love or her life that she always missed. He's the brash arrogant one, who hides his emotions and keeps her faults checked and humbled? He's exciting and vibrant, and doesn't scare her with talk of passion and love.

One represents order, the other controlled chaos. One quiet peace, the other, lusty conflict. Yin and Yang...

She says she needs to see about the "what ifs". What if she can get back together with this flame? Sacrifice the "what is", for a gamble that he may love her back with the same quiet intensity that her old boyfriend does...

But, I've found that Life is a series of "what ifs". It's a book of regrets. Every decision you make creates a pick-a-path of immense complications. You need to learn that you can't chase every what if, and live a life worth living. Your unchosen paths are like a burning wake that must be left behind, so you can go further...

I understand she's afraid that her relationship with her cast off boyfriend may take away her younger years, him being such older, it'll make her need to accept responsibilities and grow up. Perhaps faster than she should, destroying a childhood that will never happen. perhaps he'll die long before she will, leaving a wife and child to raise a family fatherless. Perhaps he'll never change, as she grows and evolves. Perhaps she's not ready to think about a future.

I understand she's afraid of the old flame, giving up her guaranteed love for a chance that he may profess his, someday. But she'll have the luxury of not growing up, and having to take on the world of ugly adult responsibilities. She would be able to hide any feelings and emotions and not be called out or questioned. What if she's just temporary in his mind? What if he too, never grows beyond the partying ways and pot smoking glory days of being "cool"? What if he can't tell her he loves her, or even commit to her as she would for him? But, with him, there's no thought of any future beyond the now?

She's afraid of the wrong choice, which cannot be recovered from.

Who do you chose? Who do you stab in the heart

Whoever she chooses, will create a regret she'll never crawl away from. She's torn and crying over it. She's angry and looking for a way out of a no win scenario. She's slathered with guilt that can never wash off, because she wanted it all...and that's not possible...

That's not life.

And she doesn't realize that her book of regrets, adds more chapters.

I wish I could say the right thing, and make it go away, but I can't. It can't be ignored, and it can't be a happy ending.

Lost Lives and Funnybook Lessons

Oh Jesus, were do I start?

How do I explain me virtually disappearing for months? What happened to me? How did I get here and what have I become? Honestly, I'm still figuring that out...

I know whats it's like to have everything taken from you, and left to die. To have someone you thought you can trust do anything to destroy you. Even if it were to decimate themselves, after all, they can blame you for that too.

I won't get into too much detail here. I'm tired of having these thoughts bouncing about my skull, and I don't want to get into a "pity-party"...even though I think if anyone deserves one, this is a great time to work that up, and bring depressing party hats with a stale cake and a sad drunken clown who's wife just left him and can only make balloon animals like a snake, a stick, and a deformed legless dog.

In one day...I got set up an fired from my job. My bank account and savings was emptied. My friends were threatened to never talk to me again. I came home to an apartment with absolutely no furniture and almost no personal affects intact. And, my cat, Indiana, was taken away. I had the money in my wallet, the clothes on my back, and my car. And, all of this was caused by me.

I put all my trust into the perfectly wrong person.

What does one do? When you have nothing, you give up hope, some people say. And I'm sure the whole evil mastermind plan was to see me hurt so much, that I would want to die. Pictures ripped up that could never be replaced. Things I worked hard to make or do, shattered to oblivion. Bits of my life, burned and raped, just for someones perverted pleasure. even my Rickenbacker, was bashed apart with a hammer and left behind as a token of how stupid I am.

What does one do. I sat in my car in the dark and wondered what do I do. Where do I start. I can't afford food, gas, rent, clothes, anything. I'd be so easy to just...give up. -They won. well played.

I sat there and glanced over to see if I had a coat in the back seat, as it was going to be a cool night. In the back of my car was a book. Before you think I'm going to say I "found religion", it was a comic book. In the story, the hero Daredevil, a successful lawyer by day, has his identity given to his arch enemy, the Kingpin. And the Kingpin knows that it's easy to murder his hated foe, but it also lets him off the hook way too quickly...he wants Daredevil to suffer.

The Kingpin uses his influence to frame Daredevil. His accounts were frozen, he lost his house, he was fired from his job, no one believed him, and he lost everything. reduced to stumbling around back alleys and sleeping on the street. You see, to totally destroy someone, you need to take everything away from him, then when he has nothing, you be merciful and end it for him.

The Kingpin made Daredevil lose all hope. Then he saw his greatest mistake: A man without hope, is a man without fear.

Daredevil realized that he really lost nothing. He has himself, and he'll be damned if anyone will take that away. He fought back, if only to show that he is still alive, and he triumphed. Nothing mattered but who he was inside.

And I'll be damned if I let myself give up.

Within weeks I work my tail off. I got a job. I got a place. I got people who cared about me and also didn't have any fear. I didn't let myself drown in worthlessness (but god, that was hard...). Because, that was the best way show everyone that I really lost nothing...because you can't change me. You can't crush me. All you can do is be blinded by my brilliance of resolve. All you can do is be envious.

For that entire stressful month and a half, I've had this horrible chest pain and cough. Sometimes even coughing up blood. I found out that I have a problem with my thymus in my chest. I know what that might mean. And, I know in the past I would have cried, "why me?" But I don't, and I smile more now. Why? If anything all this has done, is show I can beat anything.

I sit in my new apartment, typing on the Internet before I have to go to work, and I know people love me. I had people who took me in their homes, and gave me their love and understanding.

I really lost nothing. I actually gained a few things. And I have no fear.

Artbox Pheramones

After the fantastic hug, she smiled at me and said, "...you smell nice..."

"Thank you.", I said as I returned the smile, genuinely touched.

"You smell like crayons..."

I SMELL LIKE CRAYONS!?

Woah! Whiplash! Wha-huh? I smell like crayons?! How does someone just smell like crayons? I do a quick assessment of the various smells that could possibly emanate from me. I showered recently, I used a powder fresh deodorant/antiperspirant, and I light spray of Axe. Perhaps a fiant taint of that philly cheesestaek, and I remember asking for no onions. Either way, I don't remember melting Crayolas upon me at any time. How does one just acquire the scent of a child's art box?

The internet is great for two things: porn and information, in that order. Time to use the world wide web as it was intended for finally. A quick "google" of crayons and smell supplied me with an interesting, if not scary, connection... reference to Volkeswagen cars. specifically, New beetles.

Yes, it seems that, for some odd reason, the VW new Beetles have this unique aroma: melted crayons. Could be worse, I suppose. If I had to choose a smell from a car to have on me 24/7, I guess this is acceptible. I mean, I've smelled a hell of a lot worse from the public. Young teens who think that washing once a month is passable if you just throw on a hoodie and a slanted ball cap. Olds people who obviously need to rinse once in the while. I've smelled musky BO long before a person arrives, and lingers in a cloud long after they leave.

Have you even been in a geek-ville comic book/hobbie store? Anyone who has can atest to this: the potency and horror of pungent body odor intensifies off the young customers, the farther back you go in the store. With the kids in the from brousing the comic racks having a bathless fume, to the career minature wargame battle mat player regulars, who have never seen the wet side of a bar of soap, nor will never know the sweet caress of a woman...ever...

I've even survived an old guy while working retail that smelled like a sack of crap. Trying to choke back the gag reflex and bile, while listening to his questions. Subtily manuvoring myself downwind or near a vent, just to get a breath, as he was oblivious to the power of his stench. The power to demolish mountains: just by pooping your own pants.

I was ready to blame my job, and sue their collective asses that they've somehow changed my DNA. That they've replaced my blood with Rose Art wax sented chalk. I knew working with office supplies would somehow mutate me. Why couldn't I smell like a ream of paper, wipe board erasers, or even the toxic fumes of a sharpie? Now THATS a coolass power!

I guess crayons aren't so bad, huh? If I smelled like caca, I'm rather certain that I don't think I would have gotten that hug. And, really, its kind of a nice feeling that when you pass by a "back to school" display at any market or store...

perhaps, someone will think of me.

Pomp and Circuses

Today, a great and wonderful thing was bestowed upon me. Christine invited me to her Graduation ceremony.

Considering she only had five tickets, she gave the rest to family, and she had lots of friends, to actually ask me If I could attend, was really a special moment for me. She once said that I particularly liked her because of the "spark" she gives me. She may be right.

Jesus, graduations have changed since I've been to school. She had a live band playing a rather decent "Pomp and Circumstance", everyone got flowers, video presentations, and finally, a fireworks display. It was like a circus, but without the smell of horse urine and clowns. And, that's always a good thing!

When I arrived, many of us invitees had to actually park in a bus stop lot a few blocks away, then we had to board a school bus to be driven to the stadium. It's been years since I've been on the yellow bus, and for old times sake, i took the seat right on the wheel hub. Also, because I think I'm a bit more flexible than many of the oldsters on that bus. All i need is someone with a broken hip to detour my journey.

I've never seen so many people stuffed into a small arena since my Police concert way back when! I have a thing about crowded spaces, but I wanted to be there for Christine. 400 graduating students, all with 5 tickets each: that's about 2000 people in a sardine can. I was going to bring her a rose, but the odds that I'd actually be able to find her in this...

Wait a sec. we're talking me. The master of mistiming and missed opportunities. So, of course, we find each other almost immediately. I give her a warm hug, tell her she looks fantastic, and wish her well as I go to find my seat. And since I have a long wait till her name is called, I start to remember my own graduation.

I remember how I thought it might turn out. The hopes I had for the perfect ceremony just like they have in the movies. I was going to ask my friend Wendii out. I thought it would be the perfect time! I had such a crush on her, and i think she liked me. But this...this was the moment that I finally would have the balls to actually say something. After all, this would be my last chance, or I'd never see her again.

I remember how screwed up it actually was. MY band was playing horribly, so much so, they played the "pomp" song from a cassette over the PA. Minutes before the ceremony, one of my best friends ran over a girl trying park his car. And yes, this girl was one of the popular 4.0 point average girls. It didn't help that he, himself, was the school troublemaker, and all of us pull as many strings as possible to get him to graduate. That sends a nice pall over the "happy proceedings".

I remember holding the hat of someone as we waited for our names to be called to the stage. I was looking away as I was trying to see above all the sad faces in the crowd. And I just recalled that the 6'2" guy I was holding the hat for was actually the boyfriend of the girl that got ran over, just as i felt a slight tug on the hat. I start to hand the hat over, not looking back at him, and wondering why he's leaning more towards me but not grabbing back the hat. it's getting crushed.

As I look back towards him to ask him if he's okay, I see the whites of his eyes...only. And his six foot form falls up top on me like a cut down tree, right into the muddy ground. So far a not so special day for me.

But it is for Christine. I can't see her anymore, but the names are whittling down to hers. And frankly, I sit up in anticipation, as I'm so happy for her.

After getting my diploma, and scraping the mud off my gown I make my way to the gym to see Wendii. After the day I having, at least I'm not going to miss this part. I can be crushed in mud all day, If I can just ask her out. That's all I wanted from today, that's why I'm here. And I see her there, and she's just beautiful with her short auburn hair, just standing there with the sundown reflecting behind her. I make my way up and I'm smiling from ear to ear, and I'm just going to say it. "wendii, "I'll say, "I really like you a lot, and I wanted to know If you'd just go out with me."

But I don't say it. I see the grief on her face. The sadness. And I don't...say it.

Remember the guy who ran over that girl in the parking lot? He was my friend, and he was Wendiis friend too. He was the one who introduced us. And just what the hell am I supposed to say now? "Sorry about that John did out there. So, wanna go out?" "Gee, I wonder if Johns okay and the girl is stable now. But forget all that! Can I have your phone number?" "Considering how selfish and tasteless I am, do ya think you'd be hot for me?"

No. Instead we talk about him, and she excuses herself because now she's incredibly depressed. And my world diverges from there. The what could have been and what became of me. And I never saw her again.

Christina hits the stage, and she smiles so big, it's simply beautiful as she throws her arms up in the air in triumph. I scream her name, knowing she probably wont hear it, and make my hands sore just by clapping the loudest I can. Fireworks go off, and I'm not talking figuratively.

As I make my way out of this claustrophobic stadium, I seek her out, but can't find her. I wait where we met the first time, but no ones there. And, really, it's not for me to ruin her evening by having my stupid face hanging around. Tonight, is her night, and she needs to make all her times for her friends. Don't miss your opportunities. Of this, I know.

I spend about 21 minutes texting her a simple message. I don't want to disturb her.

"Thank you for letting me be a part of your memory...good night"

And I walk back to the bus station...

When I feel an unexpected vibration in my pocket.

The text says: "You're welcome..."