Cops in the Hood

On the way to the store on my bicycle, I looked down the alley. A very necessary thing to do even when walking because of all the stupid drivers in L.A. In fact, I'm not the only one that has a low opinion of L.A. residents. It turns out that tourists rank us as one of the most stupid and ill mannered of all cities in the United States. Not a very nice title, but I've had drivers honk at me because I wanted to cross the street on a green light when they felt they had the right, being bigger, to make a right turn while I wait on the curb for them to finish it. The drivers think nothing of blocking the whole crosswalk and ignore you while they watch for a break in the traffic. And if you don't step out, the next one will be there to block you again. That's really rude.

Our alley gets a lot of traffic. If the main drag backs up. They flow down the alley like a river filled to its banks. They speed because of being pissed off for having to wait. They honk their fucking horns the whole way, never mind it's a neighborhood, it's not their hood so what the fuck do they care.

The cops were near the house, it could have been the east bunker of the Jihad Party Boys. The cops might be looking for W.M.D's or some shit like that. There were two cops and both out of the car. I did see Drag Queen earlier when I was tending to the chickens. Drag Queen looked a bit hung over. Her fat ass sure hung over and her makeup looked put on with a paint roller. Poor bitch was a mess.

I blame her damn eunuch. Lazy thing probably doesn't get up until the afternoon and no one wants to bother a sleeping eunuch. Hell, you have to push your hand into the soft folds of eunuch flesh just to wake them. And then they make the damnest noises when you do. I don't blame Drag Queen for waking the eunuch by throwing a stone at one of its ass checks. But then you have a pissed off eunuch to put on your makeup and that is always a mistake.

Drag Queen needs to get some new tights. Her ass has stretched the pair she was wearing to the brink of tearing right down the seam. And if that happened, the ass wouldn't stop folding out until it hit pavement. Which would make it asshault instead of asphalt.

What could it be that the cops were in the alley by the eastern Bunker? The Jihad Party Boys have been quiet of late. Must be weapons of mass destruction. I'll call Cheney and see what's up.

Hag Hideaway

Hag's spider dutifully turned the vellum in the ancient book. A formula Hag uses to feed her spiders to make exceptional silk. Now that cold weather came, each little crevice, nook and cranny had to be filled with spider silk. The attic needed some work and perhaps even the space between the walls might need attention.

Possum Bright, of course, was an absolute staple for good spider silk and Hag had a good supply from the family in our garage. The possum family has lived there for years and years, probably before the house was built in forty-nine.

I run into them now and then. A big slow mother possum who carries her children until old enough to walk on their own. She waddles about caring for all her joeys. I've pulled them out myself from buckets or baskets they fell into. They do like to eat bugs. Tasty fat bugs that help the possum to make Possum Bright.

And Mama has plenty. If a joey becomes ill, Momma lets them suckle a special teat full of Possum Bright. But she does nothing but dote on her children so they are rarely sick.

One of Hags many lizards comes for the Possum Bright. He carefully suckles the teat, after inquiring about Mama's health and that of her children. A treat brought by the lizard's entourage of younger lizards. Tasty potato bugs and fat caterpillars in a tidy basket they carried on their backs was set before Mama. And as the old lizard suckled for Possum Bright, Mama laid on her side and slipped a grasshopper in, with its legs sticking out the side of her mouth. Once the grasshopper was ate, she took a rather large potato bug, sampling the fat body before eating it.

"How is Hag?" Mama asked.

The old lizard raised his head from the teat he suckled to answer, "She's a bit down nowadays. Too much sun is coming in I suppose. It makes her cranky."

Mama grunted, she didn't care much for the sun herself and could understand why it would make anyone cranky and out of sorts. She took a caterpillar next as she eyed a gray moth that looked very good to eat.

"Tell her I hope the Possum Bright helps."

The old lizard didn't bother to answer, and kept at his task. Once he was filled with the the special milk he thanked Mama again and left the basket of bugs for Mama to munch. With care and timing the old lizard deftly scurried back to Hag Hideaway with his crew of younger lizards.

Once inside Hag House, the old lizard went to where Hag stood at the stove. He climbed up Hag's dress and down her sleeve where her hand stirred the spoon and threw up gobs of Possum Bright into the pot.

Hag tickled his chin before he scampered back down to the floor jumping under the stove for a nice warm bake from the oven's bottom. She went back to stirring the brew as spiders began to come out from everywhere.

They jumped and jiggled and did spider dances while the pot stewed until it was ready and Hag took ladles of the ancient concoction and poured them into saucers. The spiders gathered around each saucer and dipped their forelegs into the thick soup and then they cleaned their legs with their mouths before dipping again.

When they had their fill and bellies full for making spider silk they went each to their task to block the cold drafts in Hag Hideaway and make it sound for the winter storms ahead.

Hag laid back down to sleep. She dreamed of heavy rain for the bushes and brambles to once again grow and cover Hag Hideaway. Now that daylight saving time was over, Hag gave a contented sigh and drifted off to sleep listening to thousands of spiders spinning webs of fine spider silk.

Cha-Cha Mexican Monkey

One-two-three-four. Step. Step. One-two-three-four. Step. Step.

Oh how Mexican Monkey loves the cha-cha. Adonis was stood up one night when Mexican Monkey laid drunk somewhere and didn't make it to their date. Now he does the cha-cha.

He wants to swing in the trees and pull someone's leg. He wants to screech and holler but he has to stay sober until Adonis gets off his studio shoot. Until Adonis' adoring fans, ever present, leave to gaze at him another day.

"Por favor, Adonis, please give me another chance."

"Well, I get off at nine, If you're home, I'll swing by."

"Gracias, gracias, Adonis. Mi amigo." Oh, Mexican Monkey was so happy, all he had to do was to stay sober until nine that night and then he could drink with Adonis.

"What time is it?"

"Same time only ten minutes more and why the fuck won't you have a drink and stop asking me."

"I'll cut some bamboo."

"No, you won't. You'll leave it for me to pick up."

"I want to play cards."

David fortunately put his cigarette down and said he would play before putting it back in his mouth.

Mexican Monkey was losing. He couldn't count the cards. He couldn't concentrate. He didn't want to do the cha-cha but now it seemed inevitable. I fixed myself a nice cold martini and filled the beer orders for Mom and one of her new boyfriends. Mexican Monkey wasn't happy, while the rest of us drank and laughed. Mexican Monkey did the cha-cha.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know, why don't you take a look on your way to get a beer."

"I don't want to drink."

We all knew this was a bold face lie. He wanted to alright and did the cha-cha.

"Just have one fuckin' drink dude. Then leave it."

"No, Adonis and I are going out when he gets off work. What time is it?"

"Well I'll clue you in, you have about three fucking more hours to sweat it out."

And that's what he did. One-two-three-four. Step. Step. One-two-three-four. Step. Step.

The time neared, he knew if he left now he wouldn't be alone too long with Jose Cuervo and might pour himself a tad. He did the cha-cha out the door, with a smile on his face and the thought that he would be soon united with Adonis and a bar.

Stormy Weather

What can I say, I'm a cool weather loving guy. When there is a tempest, I'm happiest. And that's the problem. We had a nice little rain storm here a week ago and then--wham, it got hot again. It depresses me for some reason. Just like the girls lay better in cool weather, I write better.

Here's my dream for a better day. A trailer in Northern California in the redwoods. Oh, would I love that, course there would be a small garden and hen house. Some place I could ride my bike to for shopping and visits. Somewhere near the Russian River would be ideal.

When I go to the Russian River Valley, I feel like I'm at home. That restless feeling inside me is soothed. I can write with ease there, even when the temperatures get high in that area, I can still find myself at ease writing.

If I just had the guts to find a place, sell everything and move there, but I can't seem to find it in me. I'm living in the same house I was when ten. Not that I didn't move outta here, I just moved back in later. And that was something I thought would never happened. I thought I would never see this place again, yet here I am waking to it each morning.

That took some doing at first. Waking up here in this house after living in Topanga. It was a very happy time then in Topanga. My lover John at the time was a great guy and our home there was perched on a cliff, three stories tall. Well, perched would be considered more of a teeter, the house was from 1929. Built as a summer home for some family, it was made of cedar with the cedar planks being the same plank on the outside as inside. In the morning you could see your breath while in bed. It had a wood stove to keep warm and a fire place.

We were young then, Johnny and me. Young and lucky in many ways, in that we stayed together for over twenty years until we were forced to move by fate. In the same year that my mother died, so did the landlord for our place in Topanga. It forced us to move, but the move took me back to my parent's house to care for my father who was handicap. Johnny hated it here. He missed the canyon and so did I. There were terrifying days when I would wake up scared shitless because I was in a strange room. I had been dreaming of daily life in Topanga and when I woke it was in this strange room in a strange place. Johnny and I lost our privacy too, my dad slept in the room next to ours and made John very uncomfortable about having sex. Our relationship began to tear until one day, he said he was leaving.

It wasn't hard to say goodbye, The signs were there that he was unhappy and me denying that we were unhappy, just not use to the new place and I don't think we would have ever gotten use to it here after having our own life together in Topanga. We sort of grew up in the canyon, both of us moving there in our twenties. We stayed close until John's death from cirrhosis of the liver. He drank pretty hard and after we broke up, even harder than before. I miss him terribly to this day. You would think after all these years(he died in 95) that I would be over it but I'm not. The pain is still fresh, I still cry when thinking of him.

I'm hoping though that my spirits will pick up. It's tough right now, Wally has dementia, even when he tries to carry a conversation it is very difficult for him. Our joy is laying next to each other in silence, holding on. I think we hold each other while in bed because if we didn't, one of us would slip away.

That's how warm weather makes me feel, as if I'm slipping into a void where I become nothing. As if the molecules that make up my body are spinning so fast that I will fragment into billions of pieces.

Here's to cooler weather and the slowing of atoms that cold causes. Here's to tall redwoods, deep forests, and trailers.

Mom's New Boyfriends

There is a whole lot of non-Asian men attracted to Asian women. I know because I've seen it for myself. Mom said it's like gaydar, she can spot one right off. And so far she has been spot on every time. Once she announces, "Asiaphile," we begin the questions, like, "Was your last girlfriend or ex-wife Asian?" or "When you're at home alone, do you eat with chop sticks?" or "Does your favorite restaurants have a 'Happy Buddha,' near the cash register?"

It's amazing because usually the answer is yes to all three. And she can't get rid of them. They keep coming back begging for at least a small China doll that she might have once owned. Course, so far, none of them have turned out to be anything to write home about. A rather dull lot. Once they have their Asian woman, they want to stay home and cook rice. Mom wants to travel, and go out for a steak dinner, and see a movie, and ride her bike--and fuck.

One of the two new ones is an Asiaphile. He bitches about his ex-Chinese wife in their last two dates. I said, "Cut the line now, because pulling in this sucker is a waste of time." She's bored with him, he talks only about himself but he does ride a bike. The last Asiaphile she dated looked like an Aztec dwarf. As if he came to life from one of those stone Aztec figures, with the huge nose and slanted forehead. He rode a bike too but Mom's basic criteria is that they aren't shorter than she is and this dude, even in platforms, still came up way short.

I told Mom that she should try a dwarf now and then, you'd be surprise. First, they're so happy you're interested in them, they go out of their way to satisfy you sexually. Not like the tall ones that think you should be climbing all over them. But she likes them big. Big dicks, big arms, big legs. Big. That's my Mom.

The other boyfriend is older, way older but nice and how can you not be nice when gravity is your enemy. The dude is very nice and takes her to dinner, he rides a bike too and is a bit taller than her but I can see what she's thinking. As he ages, he'll shrink and then one day she'll wake up to a dwarf attached to her in bed and then she'll have to chew her arm off to escape. I think the dude is hung but then it could be that everything is just sagging a great deal and looks like he's hung. Especially the balls. Balls can hang down to your fucking knees when your seventy.

I'm not sure if Mom is into big balls. I think it's mostly big dicks. And that's okay, it certainly doesn't make her a bad person does it?

Tomorrow Is Another Day

My biggest fear is to wake up in the morning and hear a political ad. Especially if it's a Meg ad. And I wouldn't put it past the bitch to have them. Just to flaunt that she has plenty of money to burn through yet.

I really hope the whore of Ebay goes down. I lost eighteen bucks on an Ebay deal. A pen that was crap and the seller wanting me to pay for the postage both ways to get another one. Another defected pen? I don't think so, what I wanted was my money back and to do that I would have had to go through several Ebay hurtles. No thanks, after the first two or three, I gave up and never went back. I'm not the only one to get burned on Ebay either, it seems I've ran into others with a similar story. Some did get their money but it wasn't until they fought for it but then they stood to loose more than eighteen bucks.

That's capitalism for you and Meg is one fat capitalist. Slap employees around, ship their jobs overseas, fuck the little guy as long as the capitalist can make money they would sell their mother's blood to do it.

The Invasion

We left before dark to the Flying Leap. Had to, because they descend when the sky darkens, when the light fades. Hordes of them, they come in vans, buses, trucks to knock on doors and demand candy. Not just a piece of candy, but hand fulls of it.

It takes bags and bags of candy to go through a Halloween here in the hood. All the houses lined up neat in rows, street lights, few gates and they come from miles away to beat on the doors long into the night.

We use to stay and give out candy, but it ran into thirty bucks plus one year and after we were emptied, they took coins until we locked the door and turned off the light. And they're not kids either, I mean, the ones that have sprouted pubes. Many of them looked old enough to drive themselves around. It's a rip off.

We had a few drinks and passed the time with other guys in the bar before having dinner downstairs. When we got home it was ten and still the vans were pulling up and letting kids out. Dafney pullled up to the house and let us out quick. we ran into the house locking the door behind us and kept the lights down low.

It truly is a horror.