Echo

Happy luring-the-red-man-into-a-false-sense-of-security-before-we-poison-them-with-moonshine-infect-them-with-smallpox-and-rip-off-their-land-for-beads Day!

I’ve got the turkey in the oven, the praline yams are a’bubblin’. Today’s menu features:

I’m watching the Warriors game, and it’s a tense 4th quarter in which they’re completely blowing the game after building up a nice lead. So the situation is serious, the game is almost over and it looks like the Hornets are about to tie or win the game. The players set up, Warriors possession, and Mike Dunleavy Jr. goes to inbound the ball. The station cutting together shots of players, looking intense, from different angles, building the drama. And then the announcer says, kind of amazed, “Thunder just knocked over Dunleavy. The MASCOT just knocked over Dunleavy.”

And they quickly cut to a wide angle of the players, and you see Thunder strutting away, playing to the crowd, and Mike wobbling a little bit and looking around like, “What the fuck? Did that really just happen?”

I wish the camera had been on that scene when it happened, rather than just catching the tail end of it. I thought that really exemplified the conflicts of nature within professional sports. On one hand, the athletes take it so incredibly seriously. There’s a lot of ego involved. These tense moments on the court that mean the difference between winning and losing may as well mean the difference beween life and death. They’re here to do a job; a delicate job–squeaking out a win–that requires almost godly focus and discipline.

And then there are the fans who came not so much to watch exceptionally skilled athletes as to have the all-inclusive wild night out, who merge into a rowdy crowd and demand to be entertained, who dance like morons to be on the Jumbotron, whose life missions at that very moment is to catch a rolled up t-shirts shot from a cannon…as watch the Mascot run around being goofy like a hyperactive village idiot. No offense to village idiots everywhere.

How can the players work under this condition?

Yeah, they get paid millions to do it. Deal with this circus around what they have dedicated their lives to. But it really takes away from the gravity of their abilities, doesn’t it? Like, I think thundersticks should be banned at basketball games. I know the teams will hand them out for free to people sitting behind the visitor’s basket. It was some marketing genius’ idea of making the fans feel more involved in the outcome of the games. If they make enough noise, they affect the other teams ability to score and thus, contributing to a win or loss. And yes, one could argue that a good player should be so focused, that even the distraction and noise of thundersticks won’t distract him. But honestly, I’m not a purest, but if I were a basketball player and had to deal with that noise and distraction every time I was trying to gather myself into a tiny pinpoint of focus, repetitively every few days for months on end, my nerves would be shot. I would have a very short fuse. It’d be really easy for me to snap, in just a heated enough moment.

I mean, you remember Ace Ventura, right? “Laces out” ? Dude, I’m telling you. This is a very, very serious matter.

NBA not banning thundersticks during games= Athletes snapping = Sean Young strapping her penis between her legs.

Check my math. I think you’ll find that I’m not wrong.

This card represents me…Air behaving as Fire. Courageous, impulsive, stormy–the slayer of darkness and invisible demons. I absolutely *love* this card.

This is, artistically, my favorite card in the deck. I’ve stared at it for hours before, absorbing its details, the concept of unity despite polarity. Disparity creating unity. Tension creating balance.The blind cupid, the omnipotent, faceless father. ..this card never ceases to intrigue me. It’s also the Gemini card.

The Tower. This card shows a building crumbling and on fire as people fall out of it. A little story about this card…in August 2001, I was in the bay area visiting my family and we had a small get together with my extended family. At the party, my mom convinced me to read for people. I am most comfortable with reading 2-3 weeks ahead because free will often changes outcomes, so the further away a time frame is, statistically, the less possible it is to be accurate because of the amount of free will that can modify a person’s course during every second. So I read for a bunch of people, and this card came up in everyone’s readings. In hindsight of 9/11, that was freaky. But that’s exactly the kind of thing this card represents. This card comes up when someone has tried to build a house on a bad foundation. They’ve repressed problems, ignored them, yet they go on with their lives like nothing’s wrong (like all the tension that had been covered up by our government’s foreign policies. And then the Tower makes the situation blow wide open, forcing things to be dealt with). But those buried issues rot away at the foundation until a huge, terrible event happens that crumbles everything that person had been trying to build. You never want this card to show up. It means you’re going to have a devastating experience that will completely shake up your world, forcing you to deal with the things you’re trying to run away from. You will be so much better off in the long run, but in general, you should be taking care of things in all hopes to avoid the types of events represented by this card. It’ll be things like, a person running away from emotional issues and burying themselves in their work. The tower comes along and blows things wide open…a relative dies, a relationship ends painfully, the person is laid off, so that they can no longer hide their head in a hole and are forced to deal with something. In the end, the Tower is a good thing. But it’s the disciplinarian. You usually want to be conscious of your issues and deal with them as much as possible to avoid this type of event. This is the explosion. It’s like when the doctor has to break your legs again, so that they can set correctly and you can grow. But it is always, always very difficult. I always get very worried when I see this card and emphatic with the person that they have to deal with something. Unfortunately, usually, when people have been avoiding issues and hiding them for so long, they’re set in their minds not to deal with those things. Until something forces them to.

This card I see a lot, too. Two swords being bent by a third. Interference. Dark, stormy emotions. Intense pain.

It’s the threesome card–two in a relationship, one on the side, all connections very very intense. In other words, the “affair” card. But it’s more complex than that. Because love and human relationships is very complex. Sometimes it can mean that someone is unhappy in their current relationship and has strong, secret feelings for someone else, not necessarily acted upon. But depending on the impressions and feelings I get along with this card for the particular person I’m reading for, it almost always comes down to one of two questions: “Were you cheated on?” “You’re in love with someone else, aren’t you?” This is one card I can specifically pick up a lot of energy and impressions on pretty easily. Because if it comes up, the pain is usually pretty great and pressing within that person in regards to a certain love situation.

And this…is my future life partner. Stable, kind. A fair leader. Earth behaving as Water. The soulmate I get to walk a large part of my journey with. He has always come up consistently for years. I really can’t explain to you how all this works, but his energy drops in on me sometimes, whoever he is.

All I’ve gotta say is:

Sho-ya Wang.

Another quote from Survivor. This one is talking about psychic ability:

You can tell people the truth, but they’ll never believe you until the event. Until it’s too late. In the meantime, the truth will just piss them off and get you in a lot of trouble. So you just walk home.

It’s true. You spend more time trying to prove to people that you know what you talk about, trying to get them to trust you, than just telling them that they’re heading towards something they may not want to collide head-on with. But often, they continue down the path just to prove you right/wrong. Or you tell them something they don’t want to hear and resent you for it.

I do that too sometimes. Ignore what I see. The messages from places coming from I don’t know where. Because I don’t want to trust them. That we can really see things. That we can really get messages. That those who can see have certain responsibilities. But the worst things in my life happen during the times I ignore those messages.

Ignorance really is bliss.

She’s a doctor in “biological sciences.” With a name like that, you will want to make an appointment ASAP.

And meanwhile, my mom works with Anita Wang, Harry Tang and Hung Chung (aka “Mike).

Asian names are fucked up.

My first day of being cleared to play basketball, I sprain my ankle playing a game of 21. DAMN.

Play M*A*S*H online!

I found out that I’m going to marry Ben Wallace, drive a red Audi, have 1 kid, and live in a shack in Fremont where my job is being depressed.

Excellent!

I walked up the entrance of the restaurant where we had ordered takeout. As I approached the door, I noticed a recently purchased, maroon Hummer pull up to the curb. I paused in my entrance into the restaurant, wanting to see who the driver was, this person who could afford such a nice car. It was a middle-aged man who looked like some Ivy-League schooled CEO of a software company, who also happened to look mildly familiar. The takeout wasn’t ready so I waited. Finally, they called my name and I took my bag of food and headed towards the door. I walked by the Hummer’s driver who was having dinner with his wife and three angelic daughters. And then it hit me. Where I had seen him before.

“Hey kids! I saw your daddy at a sex club downtown fucking a more slender woman who most definitely wasn’t your mommy!”

No. I would never do that. Not in this town.

Today I went to the Clippers/Rockets game with Brian. I had bought these tickets in a package deal several months ago, so I had forgotten exactly when the game was. I had just came home from physical therapy in the morning and was running out the door to Sarita’s to hang out and watch the Michigan game, when I went to print out my tickets and found out that they were for 12:30pm. It was 12:22. DAMN. So I grabbed Brian who was trying to eat a slice of banana covered with peanut butter and told him we were going to have a boys afternoon out and go to a Clippers game. RIGHT NOW.

We got there at halftime and found our seats. We were sandwiched between these 20 year-old Asian kids and this black family. I was immediately a little bit irritated about having to sit next to a whiney Asian girl and her high-pitched voice throughout the game, and by the fact that there was a pile of nachos on the floor in front of my seat that the guy sitting next to me on the other side needed to move.

So we sit down and Brian and I are trying to pick which team we were going to root for. He reasons, he works on Tmac campaigns so he should root for Houston, but Marko Jaric of the Clippers is his boyfriend. I told him he should root for Houston because I had Bobby Simmons on my fantasy team today so I would be rooting for him, and that way, we could root for opposite teams and get really heated and into it like men at ballgames. (I later realized that Brian should obviously root for Houston because he’s freakin’ FROM Houston).

So I’m telling Brian little facts and statistics about the game and players, as I’m prone to do. (note: I’ve spent so much time around my brother, that my first instinct when I’m in a situation where I think of a fact or explanation that someone I’m with may not know, is to share that knowledge with them. It makes me an obsessive trivia quoting dork). So I’m telling him things like, “Elton Brand has a size 17 shoe.” “Marko Jaric is a Libra.” “Yao Ming has a strong lower body but a disproportionately slender upper body, making him look like a T-Rex when he runs.” “My PT told me Elton Brand told him that Chris Kaman is a virgin and that’s where he gets all of his power.” And then I notice the guy next to me keeps laughing every time I say something.

So I sneak a glance at him and see that he’s a young, black guy with creamy, caramel skin, and these dark, curled eyelashes around warm brown eyes. Wow. I wanted to kiss him right there. Other furtive reconnaissance glances revealed that he was attending the game with his mother and another maternal female figure. Who was holding this adorable, stuffed Clippers Rally Monkey. I thought he was the cutest thing.

The next big play, I softly quipped as if to myself, “Why are they double-teaming Bobby Simmons?” (note: Bobby is not such a good player that teams need to put two defenders on him, like on a Kobe or a Garnett). I heard him laugh and agree. After a few moments of silence, I figure this exchange is over. But then he said, to seemingly no one in particular, “It’s not like he’s Tracy McGrady.” I laughed. I knew he was talking to me.

Throughout the game, he and I would trade comments on the game without ever really looking at each other. After I went nuts for Bobby Simmons free-throw, he finally looks at me and asks, “Do you play fantasy or something?”

I said, “Yeah. I’ve got Bobby on my team for this game.”

He laughed and said, “That’s an unusual choice.”

I said, “Well, I needed field goal % and free throw %, and Bobby has great field goal percentage and shoots over 90 percent in free throws because he’s only missed one free throw this season.”

He pauses, not knowing what to say, then laughs saying, “Well, he’s doing great for you today.”

I asked him, “Do you play fantasy basketball?”
(thinking…well I should probably be up front…I’m a big dork.)

“No,” he said, then softly added, “Just um, fantasy golf.”

(superdorksoftheuniverse UNITE! Excellent.)

And then, throughout the game, he did the sweetest thing–he would cheer with me whenever Bobby did anything good or was at the line shooting free throws (note to non basketball-game attenders: Free throws are not a very exciting aspect of the game, so people don’t usually get excited).

(also note: at one point in the final quarter, he stood up to cheer, and you can bet I checked out his ass. I’m not very knowledgeable on how to judge asses since I’m more of a leg/back/arm girl myself, but his ass was definitely appealing.)

I started wanting to figure out a way to be able to maintain some sort of contact with him once our shared experience of this basketball game was through…ask him for his number? Lean over and whisper into his ear, “I think you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time.” ? Psychically give him the Jedi mind trick to make him ask me for my number?

But then his phone rang. He was engaged in a conversation with someone about where to find something in what sounded like a bedroom. I was pretending that I wasn’t listening, but I couldn’t help but listen, and he was pretending that he didn’t know that I was pretending not to listen. In terms of the conversation, I deduced that when he said, “it’s by my TV,” it would not be a woman he’s living with on the phone because I doubted there would be a “my” tv and a “your” tv. Also, he didn’t say any form of closing comments to end the call. He just snapped off the phone. And no girl will ever let her boy just turn off the phone when he’s done talking without saying a “Bye” or a “Later” a “Love you honey you stupid cunt who’s ruining my life.” So my robot brain concluded that he was talking to a guy, probably a roommate.

Just as I figured it was all clear, that as far as I knew, he was still a single guy, his mom asked him, “Was that Kim?” Doh! He quickly said, “Uh no, that was um, Trey.”

maybe she said “Kiiiiieeeen” like “Ken.” Not like girlfriend Kim. But like boyfriend Ken.

Shut up robot brain. That man has a girlfriend.

So at the end of the game, Brian and I are leaving with 13.4 seconds to go on the game clock. We step down to the row in front of us, and I look up at the guy sitting next to me…finally get a look his face in its entirety. And….he was a trainwreck. Baby-was-born-ass-first ugly.

No, I’m just kidding. He was really cute. Baby-face, very sweet smile, looked like your classic nice guy. Such a warmth about him.

I tell him to have fun and walk to the end of the aisle. I look back and see he’s still looking at me, smiling at me. I smile and turn away. I look back and he’s talking to his mom, but he catches my glance and we share another smile.

It really takes very little for me to be happy sometimes. Just having a nice, gentle, pleasant connection with someone, for just a short time, is really nice sometimes. It’s a warm feeling, like having laid out in a field all day, on a warm, sunny afternoon.

Where’s my basketball-loving boy next door with the radiant smile? I’m still waiting for you to cuddle with me.

the big questions

does secretly keeping an eye on me
make the hungriness go away?
does knowing about my insides
answer all of your questions?

does it quiet the noises in your head
that keep you up at night?
or do they pounce when you break the surface
of each waking repetitive day?

have you ever heard the night confessing
sharing its deathbed regrets?
does it throw a volatile little-boy tantrum
when you ever so politely decline?

would it surprise you to look inside a well
and meet a familiar pair of eyes?
will the shock of the unexpected
make it any less of a hole in the ground?

do you worry about all that is lost out at sea
hoarded in its folds so they never return to shore?
do you secretly believe maybe all of those things
are perhaps not so unlucky at all?

do you cry while watching the daily news
because you never learned how to cry for yourself?
or do you automatically fast forward all the way through
so all that is left is the weather?

can you remember the last time the sun
warmed your face
without needing you to draw it into the sky
with a child’s set of washable markers?

do you really believe any answer exists
before it has been discovered?

there is nothing more desolate
than the littered fairgrounds
the morning after the anima of the passing carnival
has been inhaled into the tenacious clay of the night
the faint impressions
and incomplete clues of renounced belongings
all that remain of what once may have existed
(or perhaps
had been dreamed all along)

and no good place to start making any sense of it all
except for a beginning without a beginning
and a persistent feeling of something unresolved
that just.
won’t.
leave you alone.

and then there’s that famous story about
that magnanimous guy
who thought he could keep all his little ones safe
if he bound them by their shoes to the earth

but he neglected to calculate the possibility
that nobody likes hanging upside down for
damn near the entirety of their lives.

if i told you the world would end today
would it be enough to move you to find me?
or is it never the time to seize the courage
to just ask the questions
you don’t really want to have answered?

(well if you want to know
i could tell you now
but you’re just gonna call me a liar)

there’s nothing here but
plain
old
simple
gravity.

and whole lotta old folks
waxing nostalgia
languidly rocking in homemade porch swings
that never seem to figure out how to stop creaking.

If I emailed someone the html code for my template, will you tell me how to adjust the margins of my text??? I need it wider. It screws things up all the time, especially when I write poetry.

my insomnia has struck again. i’m so tired but i can’t get to sleep. i’m so tired but i can’t get to sleep. gone from talking to ghosts to being a ghost. but i still have two hours of trying before i get desperate. anyone know of any good stories?

Once a label is on something
It becomes an it
Like it’s no longer alive

It’s like a loss of vision
Or some dark impression
Or a black spot on your eye

If it’s up to you
My little sweet baboo
Through the shouting and the fever
Think of life as queer
Think of it my dear
And some knobs or a fancy tone
From here there is no reason
Baby’s got it made
But it’s not what the life’s about

What is imagination
May become a fact
If we think of it that way
If you want to know
I can tell you now
Oh if you make it through somehow
Or is it best to keep or fall to sleep
It isn’t looking very good to me from here

(what new york couples fight about, morcheeba)

this is one of my favorite songs. to listen to alone in the dark at 3am. which is when i’m usually listening to it lately. you can hear it if you click on the link above (then click on the title. it’ll take a few minutes to download before automatically playing). i put it up on my site for you to listen to, if you guys have never gotten a taste of morcheeba.