late tvnty-sumthin: portrait of young man on the verge of a nervous breakdown

I wait for her, every stinking minute, until she gets off the toilet 

Walking slowly toward me in her heels, stilettos

Not knowing what to say, I stare directly toward her,

as blank as a Michelangelo statue. 

i cough, 

She stares, I quiver a little

Blink, and suddenly visualize myself in paradise 

She laughs

I laugh

She asks a question

I apologize for myself

She talks more

I try, sir, as hard as I can

To eke out a smile 

But can't

Still clinging to my momma bear

Standing here

Almost curled in the bosom

But can't speak 

10 minutes later,

I stomp off into silence. 

IDEAS for the future-9/25

A hydrofoil across the ocean: new, carbon-lite technology to facilitate long-distance travel.

• Article discussing G.T.'s transatlantic voyage notes that carbon-lite oceanic travel may be available soon but not to the masses (would be expensive and slow). Notes at the end, cautiously (if not dismissively) that: 
• Hydrofoil technology that lifts a vessel’s hull out of water – thereby reducing drag and increasing speed – does have the potential to significantly reduce journey times. But for this to affect transatlantic crossings, the size and weight of ocean-going vessels would need to tumble, which means using much lighter materials that either don’t yet exist or are cost-prohibitive.
• What about using prizes?

An architectural school for LA: Can we have a style that in some way reflects on our city's unique qualities, is aesthetically appealing and can be applied to high-density 

• How many spanish revival apartment buildings do we see for instance? Cookie cutter style. Emphasis on open space: problematic for density?  

Memories

Today I threw out Memories,
In the alley behind my house
Under the California sun
where they can decompose.

The number for a
Jerusalem hotel
(1 year after the 2nd Intifada).
The nervous, prolix prose
of a 10th-grade writing assignment
(a shameless parade of knowledge).
The graduate school acceptance letter
(the moment when you still believed...).

All that is joyous, painful, history
ensconced in your identity
Once banal tidbits of yore
Now bring a heavy heart

Why do you yearn for the past
when your life stretched farther ahead
but you had less freedom?
What point are years without experience
of GIS or innumerable foreign cuisines?

Or was it that your creativity has lingered
your indolence (after completion of the bare minimum) grown,
Your desire to harmony
(with your boss)
Impeding (even) bullshit originality.

Your years are yours,
Don't just sit on them,


until they disappear.

Bojack Horseman Episodes 4 and 5

I used to be a fan of the most ridiculous and absurd running gags, whether it was Kenny's perennial "death" in South Park or Peter's addiction to the "Bird" song in family guy. But I have matured. If nothing's changing, I ain't having. I may still laugh at the basic slapstick humor, but I begin to feel jaded after a little while. This sensation aptly describes where I stand after the 4th episode of  BojackHorseman, which, in many ways, simply rehashes the plot line of the third episode.

As we've seen with his permissive indulgence of Samantha, Bojack has attachment problems. He spends most of the episode assisting Todd's aspirations to rock opera glory, to disprove Diane's assertion that Bojack worries about being alone if Todd (having found gainful employment) departs. At the end, however, he betrays Todd and Diane by conspiring to place an addictive video game (that had been Todd's undoing in high school) on the discount shelf of a 7-eleven at the moment when Todd and Bojack make a "snack run" the night before a session with investors (Todd ends up snatching the game and playing the whole night--when he was supposed to be writing a final song and practicing).

Bojack's artificially sudden change of character at the beginning of the show along with the expected relapse seem trite. Together with Bojack's impulsiveness, alcoholism and obstreperousness, his relapse makes it ever more difficult to like him as a character.

Several articles have recently been written tying the 90s-oughts asshole style humor, as embodied by South Park, to the rise of the alt-right. I wouldn't go that far in describing the effects of Bojack Horseman, but it definitely fits the mold of a show that entertains through mischevious provocation.

There was a time in my life when I could laugh at that sort of shit. But I have matured and gained a better grasp of my own person and positionality in society (as an asian-american male).

In the remaining 4 episodes of the first season (and 4 seasons following that), I hope that Bojack Horseman can do the same.

Thursday, October 17, 2018

• 7:45 am Brianne gives me a look when I ask for a direction on setting up. She told me before that its the "same as yesterday" (though I didn't work at the table her yesterday). Braulio says to me, in his quiet, unassuming way: "you're fine."
• 8:45 am Make a fool of myself dropping clipboards (with maps), grasped precariously between my elbow and rib, when I try to snap photos with the camera. This happens three times before Carlos notices and takes them from me. When can I learn not m
• 12:20 pm Get the news from mom that Dustin will be euthanized. She's crying hysterically. I have no response. The words sadden me, but I am little numb at this point, having seen him struggle the last 4 weeks.
• 1:50 pm I return auntie mara's call. She repeats the news mom gave me. Whereas, an equation had absorbed enough mental energy to keep me focused, now the monotony of powerpoint templates allowed memories of Dustin to creep into my mind. A heavy heart bore me down. 
• 4:15 pm I share a guava pastry with braulio before heading out. He seems very appreciative. Such a good soul.
• 5:30 pm Grandma's house. Dustin's bed and bowl and toys are gone. Going into the office, I see that Grandpa's almost in tears. I place my arm around him, a genuine hug for the first time in a while. I go on a walk with him and Grandma around the block, for the first time in memory. 
• 6:45 pm I return home. Mom's anxious, briefly mentioning Dustin but then complaining about her summons to surgery. I tell her to relax, that it won't be the worst thing in her life, and that we should eat dinner. As usual, though she continues-delving further into the details-and, as usual, I tune out. I try to listen, to engage, but lack the physical and social energy. At some point, to stop the blabbering a start to yell before my inner voice screams: "watch yourself."
• 8:15pm Text Jeanette. "Why am I so into a fat girl?" "Fuck, why should I follow beauty standards?" I start to dream, then worry. The anxiety builds too quickly and the pot is almost due so I head back.
• 8:37pm A buzz. Jeanette, Elaine? I'll find out, when I'm done practicing my writing.