kinda how I feel right now...not enough dixie cups

its easy to miss you...

What motivates you?

A long long time ago the only thing that separated you and I was our fight to survive.  Even back then life was about survival of the fittest.  The strong could fight you off and they would be able to feed themselves.  No civility.  Why is it that we can not share in what mother Earth gives us?  Why can’t we partake in the indifference between you and I?  So what if the color of my skin is brown and yours is black, or orange, or white.  We all bleed red!

People with those thoughts are always pegged as activist or humanitarians why not just say that they are Humans with a soul.  There, that simple, a human who cares, who wants to share their cup, their bread.  No we would rather give rise to superman and worship them for being a hero. Amazing is these people don’t care to be recognized because they feel what they do is normal.

Normal, what a hard word to describe.  When you wake up, brew some coffee, and walk outside to enjoy the morning breath, and you sip your first warmth to the day, is that normal?  Does everybody do this everyday?  Not sure, this is who I am, does this make me normal?  Don’t care its who I am!

2011 was an incredible year for me personally, I found reason to live and in a beautiful person the definition of life became easy on my soul.  Growing up my parents would take us into Mexico to get haircuts, eat, by this or that.  What perplexed me were the women with the babies sitting Indian style on the sidewalks with a cup begging for life.  The children always looked hungry and the women always looked as if life had left them.  My father would sometimes walk by and sometimes give them money, my mother on the other hand would always give them money.  

I never questioned why my father did that until recently and his words were the most incredible words ever put together to form a sentence.  “Always give.  Always protect your children.  Never walk by a soul who is defenseless extend your hand because that person is someone’s mother, father, brother, sister, more importantly that person could be you!”  WOW

Once in a while when I approach the intersection there are people who have signs that read “homeless” or “Veteran need money for food.”  My jaded sense is that I never give to them, its the one that has the “Need a Job”  sign that I always give to.  Why?  Never put a thought to why until right now, its because they had not given up on life.  The strong will survive.  Shame on me.  Shame on me.

Mom!  Dad!  God!  I'm truly sorry.  It’s moments like those one has to be responsible to life.  Who am I to judge?  Mine is a burden to help protect those who can’t crawl, walk, run, whisper, talk, or scream for help.  To defend a defenseless person is not being a hero it is being a part of a race, the Human Race.  A sense of arrogance that encompasses us all needs to walk away from our souls.  It just needs to slip away from the grasps of our sanity.

Little boy blue walked up to man on the street and politely asked him if he could spare a quarter.  The man unbeknownst to the little boy was quite wealthy in life.  He stared at the little boy and spent the better part of five minutes belittling that boy.  After what he felt was an amusing moment told the little boy, “fuck off!”

A couple years later the man on the street’s son suffered from a pretty ugly disease and found that he was no longer rich in life.  He found himself on a corner street asking for help, begging for someone to help him with a quarter to help save his son.  Upon laying to rest his son, he sat by himself reminiscing about life, about his child, angry at God, pissed off at the world then he remembered little boy blue.                                                                                                                             

Be your own private hero.  Live to give someone a smile.  Peace.  

me

finding humor in wine and other ramblings...

As a token to my drunkard friends aka Liver Club Laredo and Liver Club KA and JA it became my empowered desire to find a bottle of truth for them.  A polite email of honesty was asked, “what year were you born?”  Who knew such a question amongst friends was going to be such a delightful quest.  

Ah the virtues of vanity, “Well how old do I look?”  Well since your asking.  When you were born the sky was crying, Lynda Carter was flying in a transparent plane looking voluptuous with vigor while Richard Dreyfuss was fishing for a giant shark.  Yes, you were born when a man eating shark ruled the giant screen and a woman in a bustier was kicking every man’s ass.  You indeed are special!

Of course that one was not the best quote, “Seriously, the botox has not kicked in.”  To use a movie metaphor would out this person.  Instead I will attempt to span the vast universe to describe your vintage.  When you were born he was walking on a gravel road when suddenly he bent down and grabbed a hand full of stones.  He stared at his hand, saw the earth, could smell the minerals, and then he threw then on the ground and they became the Rolling Stones.  The question, did it give you any satisfaction? 

Then there was the one, the special one, the one who was born when the sunrise was perfect.  That year the snow didn’t fall, it graced us with its presence.  Rain drops came to wash away our sins.  The heat from the sun was to keep us from being cold and the wind blew enough to give us a little bit of character.  Mother Earth warned us about you when her sunset was near perfect.  Yes that year the sun and sunset made peace with each other.  Who new that in the year of perfection we would learn to call everyone, “Dude?”

Okay yes I have the blog, sometimes even the floor, but in the year of the dragon who will stand up and scream?  Who will open a bottle of excellence and pour its soul to the waiting arms of a silly empty glass to find itself full of life?  Who will be the one who just brings it to you and says nothing?  

Yes, no words!  Not earthy or meaty, much less minerals, or robust, just the silence and that look.  I believe my fellow Man Yoga partner in crime Mr. Niles said it best, “I just saw it!”  What he saw was my facial expression when I opened the 1970 Chateau Petrvs and put the glass to my nose.  He saw a quiet calm before her beauty touched my lips.  Then he felt perverted because he felt he had violated my sexual rights.  For the record he did.

What is that silence we search for?  You ever wonder what was the first expression made when the first sip of wine happened?  Did they look at each other and start going goo goo dolls over how delicate an expression the earth had given the wine.  I can just see them saying that the wine was not overpowering.  Right...  Money is that they probably spit it out.  That at first they probably thought something was wrong with the holy water.  They left it alone and 29, 33, 36, 45, 50, or however old the wine was when they came back to it, did it really get better with time?  

Been doing this long enough to know the answer to the all to asked question, “How do you store wine?”  In memory.  Drink it.  Drink it before it goes bad.  If your lucky enough to experience the year you were born, keep your comments to yourself.  Some of us would rather defy time and gravity.  Botox?  Seriously.  

Some wines that make you go hmm?  Chateau Margaux 1975, Chateau Petrvs 1975, Marchesi di Barolo Barolo 1977, and ----  The question is not in the answer but in the words of silence and what will forever be in our hearts as friends.  Its funny that when I do a wine class my superstitious belief is that I have to do at least do two toast, one funny and one serious.

Funny toast for this special wine tasting, “Here is to the perverted looks you guys made when you were enjoying this wine in silence.”  Serious toast, “Here is to the quiet thoughts that only you and you can decipher in your soul.”  Wine is interesting, from the first sip when it was probably spit out, to the moment you had your first taste, along the way many stories developed our perception of perfection.  

“Ah Rick?  Uh Rick?” After about 20 minutes of silence.  “I think this wine is bad!” 

What James Dean said about this picture.

                                                                                    WOW!  Elizabeth Taylor is napping next to me...

Your a very foolish man...indeed

To my utter surprise walked to the mail box with my superman cup of coffee and was flipping through the stack of bills and enjoying the morning when I saw the letter.  There in plain sight of the morning glory written in his all to familiar hand writing was a letter from one of my great friends in life.  My excitement was one of a child walking into a toy store, I was besides myself.  I had not heard neither hair nor shinola from him.  This was not great news this was incredible news.

As I engulfed his words it was apparent to me that my friend had become inconceivably somber and humble in his life.  Words such as ‘insane’ demanded a larger than life definition from my menial mind.  The greatness that one can find in solitude is not from the surface of our skin but from the bowels of our soul.  This is what his words were screaming at me.  No.  They pierced my gut, my soul, my life, he reaffirmed my nuthouse decisions.  He validated my thoughts.  Or was I reading too much into the first page of his four page letter?

After crawling out of an incredible blank space in my thoughts its amazing to me how many words spin inside my head right next to the gerbil that is moving the machine.  Infamous are the quotes that make no sense.  “Why cry over spilled milk?”  What does it mean?  Seriously?  I can see myself crying over a spilled beer or maybe a broken cork from a perfect bottle of wine, but spilled milk?  What am I...3?  

In the past several weeks I have restrained myself from drinking too much.  I will have the occasional glass of wine or even a stiff drink but the idea of not having a clear head scares the crap out of me these days.  My desire to make a change in my life is one that requires it to be free and pure of anything that could cloud it.  

2011 finished with a raucous thunder.  “I’m gonna make a change, for once in my life.  Its gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference.  Gonna make it right.”  For the first time in my life the window to someone’s soul cried out for help.  It was embedded in me.  My skin crawled with agony.  No longer could I walk the shallow walls of my life.  My life had to stand for something.  No preaching.  I had to look inside and change.

I knew of only a selfish type of love.  It was one of giving with hopes of expecting in return.  Last night I was with friends and all I wanted to do was make that bigger change in me.  The image in my mirror was no longer the same person.  He no longer believed peoples bullshit.  I am a very foolish man...indeed.  For lack of a better way of screaming it...I am absolutely fucking crazy.  No mid-life crisis I just have to stand up and LIVE.  I have to believe in life again.  And then she texted...”I know your great”  

Am I?  No quotes just a simple expression of faith.  The one that is finding its way back.  On the final page of my friends letter he re-iterated the love of my heart.  He reaffirmed the change inside my soul.  He realized my dreams with a simple quote from Steve Jobs:

“Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently -- they're not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can't do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”

He finished his kind words with the most incredible words ever written to me...  “That my friend says it all.  Now where do I sign up? And point me in the right direction!”  No longer a victim of a selfish kind of love.  No pretending.  No blaming a broken heart.  No messages to life.  Just gonna make that change inside.  And I am changing my ways, right now at 4:33 in the morning.  When my soul is weeping in solitude for those that can’t I am staring at the man in my mirror.  

Change.  Live to give someone that smile.  The message is that clear.  Indeed I am a very foolish man.  My friend!  You sign the dotted line of your soul.  You hold my hand and we cross our fingers and hope we don’t fuck this up.  

Thank you Michael Jackson for the inspiration of words and music.  Borrowed with a heavy heart.  “Man in the  Mirror”  2012.  Stand up and live.  Stand up and lift yourselves.  Stand up and make a difference.

ME

Out with the old and in with the new...

2012 Disclaimer...first words to escape the cavity of my mind after one of the worst writers blocks I have ever had.  First words written sober...I am concerned for the record.

That time of the year once again.  Oh yes, take out the sheet of paper and begin the lies.  Every year throughout our lifetime we start the first minutes of the year, inebriated with a false belief.  “I am going  to loose weight!”  Right.  Until you pass the Whataburger and the #5 never looked so good.  Do you ever wonder why McDonalds sells the McRib this time of the year?  Now those guys are marketing experts, those capitalist pigs.  I say this with SO much love.  Loosing weight has never been at the top of my New Years resolution, in fact it has never existed.  I’m too much of a fatass.

This year I have decided to do something completely off my rocker and God knows that I'm getting pretty close to that rocker.  Walked in to my closet and realized that some of my shirts pre-date the invention of time or at least when the guys from Van Halen consisted of Eddie, Alex, Michael Anthony, and Big Wave Dave.  Back then Wolfgang, was rocking Amadeus.  There was the serial shirt that if memory serves me well was purchased at the now defunct Gibson’s.  For the record that shirt scored by itself back in the day.  Again back in the day.  These days it would be better served at the local car wash unfortunately I think its lead based.

Seriously, how many of you can say that you own a piece of history in your closet?  Liars.  Come now, its 2012 we decided we would start off the year not lying to ourselves.  My Doc Martins are from the original 100 that they made.  Hey!  Don’t laugh 100 years from now they will still be in pretty good shape.  Then of course there are my favorite jeans.  Yes they have come and gone in style about three times.  Originally they were bought in 1985, so they are a little old and have holes, these type of jeans with holes were going for 200.00 at Nordstroms not that long ago.  For the record they are no longer in style once again.

I ventured cautiously to the mall.  Indeed folks I am living proof that God has a sense of humor and that God indeed is a woman.  A woman who built the mall, and built it to aggravate the living shit out of every man on this planet.  Now it takes me all of 5 minutes to get what I want.  What’s annoying is the woman in front of you who makes this comment, “If we wait until tomorrow it will be 50% off.”  Its annoying because it took her 25 minutes to decide she was not going to buy it.  Note to self ladies, just buy the darn thing.  Life is too short for regrets.  Hmm, that would be a good 2012 resolution...no regrets.  Unfortunately I own a closet full of them.

This year I heard one of the most beautiful songs ever.  “The Remedy” by Jason Mraz and those words echo through me.  My somber approach to 2012 is about giving someone a smile.  That simple truth is what this year and the rest of my life will serve.  “I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend the rest of your nights with the light on so shine the light on all of your friends because it all amounts to nothing in the end.”  This year I will LIVE TO GIVE SOMEONE A SMILE.  That’s it!  That’s my Resolution.  Before you right it down...make 2012 count for something.  

Much love in this the year of the great love.  

Rick