Saturday, December 7, 2013

Speed Racer

The rains here are short lived, but they still flood the streets like the ones from my childhood. It would rain in the tropics for days at a time, leaving children no recourse but to play in it, braving colds, broken glass, tetanus, and tape worms. Although warned, we never thought of such things, but were more concerned with perfecting the slide during muddy soccer games or simply splashing around.

We would dismantle wooden clothes pins and use the cement curbs to sand and shape the heads into a point. The torrential rains would create a fast current between the edges of the roads and the curb which were used as rapids upon which to race our boats. We would yell and cheer them on as we sped barefoot along side them until the end of the street. It never mattered who won. We were too eager to run back to the start line to watch our litte speedboats dunk, spin, and wind through the gray, gushing river over and over again. 

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Shotgun Sunday

My last post was on September 15th. I'm making this statement for a couple of reasons. 1) a reminder that it has been over a month since my last post 2) the begininng of a writing exercise 3) as part of a concentrated effort to write something creative everday. 

I sit in an Internet cafe as I type this, watching people. I watch them come in and begin their rituals, reading their faces and deducing from their outfits and accoutrement what their intentions may be. I wonder what each person is writing, reading, or watching on their monitors as the soft digital glow from computer screens gently illuminates their faces. 

I hate my posture and I'm dedicated to improving it with the determination of someone adhering to a new year's resolution, or trying to remove a ring they tried on in a store that is one size too small. After 8 years as a massage therapist and working on hundreds of people, I have witnessed first hand the myriad ways that poor posture can manifest in the body. In fact, I'm sitting up straighter as I type this.

I didn't watch one game of the World Series this year. I wasn't interested. I'm only happy for the city of Boston in that it gave people an opporutnity to come together and deal with the travesty that happened there. Otherwise, I hate the team and am annoyed by most of their fans, particularly their attrocious accent. I realize that it's an unfounded and arbitrary hatred, yet it exists and I cannot ignore it any more than one can act like nothing happened when someone spits on them while talking. I hate them as one might despise cauliflower, or celebrities for adopting African babies. 

I just watched The Dark Knight Rises for the 8th time. I'm still unsure of exactly how I feel about the movie; all I know is that when it's on, I have to watch it. There is a handful of other movies that once they are on the tv I can't stop watching. This phenomenon tends to happen with the Bourne Identity, Shawshank Redemption, Saving Private Ryan, Unforgiven, 300, Gladiator, and just about any movie with Clint Eastwood. 

Well, would you look at that...I've written an entire post. Looks like the writing exercise was a success. Yay me.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Coastal Musings

Surreal indeed... a body part to the ethos of those inexplicable moments of pure heaven in which life overwhelms us; inspires us, cleanses, and melts away worry and angst. Those moments we commune with nature...inhaling atoms that once traversed the bloodstreams of our kin, whose feet tred before ours leaving both imprints in the earth, and in the pool of the universe whose ripples have now returned from whence they started. 

I sit above the ocean as do seagulls floating upon a wind's capricious breath; a feather at the mercy of vicissitude  and chance. Below, the waves' frothy fingers pour over the jagged rock, winding and weaving through the contours of time; cavernous wrinkles upon a swarthy, weathered face caressed and soothed by every breath the ocean exhales. 

I feel lucky in these moments...blessed even. As stressful and as difficult life can be to navigate and comprehend, what is always effortless is the soul's inherent ability and desire to do what it craves most, to be. The sound of waves are soothing, calming, and comforting...pleasant reminders that life, the world, the universe and everything in it is part of something greater, whether by design or accident, that has already been set in motion on an indiscernible direction and path. All we know is that we are an inextricable part of this harmony, residents of the same pool in which all of our actions create ripples that in time, will return to those who set them in motion. Which, logically, leads me to believe that God exists...waiting for us to return.

But this isn't what should concern us...when we create art, when we make love, when we run or cry, or laugh as we splash in water, or when we are tickled...we do not care why. Our souls are expressing themselves as they were intended to; unbridled, naked, unrestrained and without boundaries. In turn, we should not worry about where or when we shall return from whence we came, but let our hearts sing when they are compelled to do so, and enjoy every wave, every gust of wind, every kiss, every caress and let the feather fall where it may. 

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Star Trek: Into Darkness

I have three words for you. Benedict Cumberbatch plays the best futuristic, maniacal, kick-ass villain ever! In this next sentence, the one in which I’m about to tell you how I think Star Trek: Into Darkness may be better than Iron man 3, I would normally have a link to the review I have already written about Iron man 3. However, no such review exists yet, thus, there is no link….but the show must go on.

One would think that a man with the name Benedict Cumberbatch would be anything but a futuristic, maniacal, kick-ass villain…..and one would be right. Thankfully his name in the movie is not his real one. Those of you who are fans of the British television show "Sherlock", are familiar with his work and may have possibly been as giddy as I was in the theater waiting for him to appear. Those of you who are not, will still appreciate his commitment to crazy.

Anyway, as I was saying, Into Darkness is a wholesomely entertaining movie that in my opinion, was not as good as the first, but still didn't disappoint. There was just enough action and the story line, while plausible and multifaceted, was still easy to follow. Even the nuances in the development of the intricate relationships between humans and Vulcans was masterful, and well…logical.

I could have done without the Dr.’s plethora of over-acted metaphorical quips, and while I felt there were
some decent moments of comic relief, most of the attempts at humor were a little contrived or poorly timed, an ailment of which the first film surely didn't suffer. I did enjoy the film and was mostly entertained, but I couldn't help thinking that this movie was like the U.S.S. Enterprise with a stalled hyper-drive, floating along the fringes of the galaxy without the ability to warp into greatness.  

Some critics, like the Huffington Post had more to say about the films lack of profit generation and celebrity status, but I find that a movie review commenting solely on a film's box office numbers is sort of like judging an entree by the dessert that follows it. Others like Rotten Tomatoes, reported the movie at a 78%, while audiences rated it at almost 90%. Even though the movie fell a little short of expectations, it's still a fun, sleek, intergalactic thriller worth watching.

In short, those three words I promised earlier sum it up rather well….two thumbs up! 

Saturday, May 18, 2013

I love the 80s...

I should be studying right now and working on an assignment that's due at the time after which you should never feed a mogwai, but every cell in my body is fighting it. My mind is literally remembering all the things I've been neglecting to do, and trying to get me to do them. Must. Be. Strong. I have a poem that wants to come out and my blog keeps calling..."Brown, ya no me quieres"...you don't love me anymore.

I just started grad school, and every time I begin an assignment I ask myself what the hell I was thinking when I enrolled (I just noticed there were a lot of I's in that sentence). I suppose gleaning information from charts and graphs that illustrate Health Care Expenditures in the United States since the 1960s will do that to you. I'm up to my eyeballs in health care data. These are the moments I wish I could absorb the information like Johnny 5 in Short Circuit..."Need more input!"

Sorry for those of you who didn't grow up in the 80s and know that reference..."Your battery fluid is leaking!" (sorry, couldn't help myself) Your childhood was not nearly as awesome as mine if you didn't wear a Swatch, collect Garbage Pale Kid cards, watch Wrestlemania, The Cosby Show, The A-Team, Silver Spoons, Remington Steele, Magnum PI, and have at least one of these on your bed spread or pajamas: Star Wars, Pac-Man, Knight-Rider, The Goonies, Smurfs, My Little Pony, Rainbrow Brite, The Snorks, GI Joe, Gremlins, Karate Kid, E.T., or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Yeah, you wish you knew what a Care Bear Stare was.

Thursday, May 9, 2013


I'm in the mood to share a poem with you. I hope you don't mind...

Eternal Love

Walk into the tomb my sweet
and fall upon my grave.
Fear not the statued sentries there,
who guard this hallowed cave.

Yet deeper through the dark abyss,
where whispers go off to die.
You’ll find me quietly waiting,
upon a bed of stone I lie.

These catacombs are winding,
chambers fraught with dreams and bone.
Carve softly your name upon the walls,
So I shall never rest alone.

By Brown

Sunday, April 14, 2013

30 Days and 30 Nights

I'm not sure if I'm writing to satisfy a particular agenda, or just because I couldn't continue to bear the thought of anyone stopping by my blog and judging me solely on my last post, or the idiocy of my pet peeve because quite frankly I have many, and while being constantly mugged by my shower curtain is frustrating, I would hope the world would think me a little more sophisticated.

Then again...I'm not sure how much I really care about people who are compelled to surmise a person's intelligence, sense of humor, imagination, and writing prowess all by a singular post complaining about something, which in the grand scheme of things, is rather trivial. After all, I can't really blame anyone wanting to be all over me while I'm naked.

But then again, this is who we are...biologically and otherwise. We judge, as we always have, in order to survive, weighing risks and identifying potential threats from our environment, and those in it, in a matter of seconds. We often calculate hundreds of scenarios in fractions of seconds, make a decision, and begin initiating a plan...all in the blink of an eye.

It's rather fascinating once you think about it...your entire life is mostly comprised of impulsive, instinctual decisions you've been making since you were able to grasp the concept of your actions having consequences. People like to think that they make their decisions through a more scientific process, basing them on empirical data, analytical comparisons, and deductive reasoning, but in truth, we are looking to either justify or reverse a decision that was already made. We have a brain capable of vast conscious capabilities, but it is those of which we are unaware that are truly enumerable and infinite.

I think wisdom is the acknowledgement of this process, the embracing and acceptance of our animalistic nature, the realization that while we judge, decide, discriminate, dislike, alienate, and choose by snapshots and soundbites of the world around us...we ultimately possess the power not to act upon such diminutive and limited samples.

Gandhi once said, "Anger is the enemy of non-violence, and pride is a monster that swallows it up." Let us hope that we are endowed with the strength to fight such demons, as well as the vision to see the limitations and exclusivity of our perceptions. Time is our most precious commodity, and it would be such a shame to waste a month of it.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Pet Peeve #416

I'm not sure what distorted laws of physics, or vengeful ghosts continue to haunt my bathroom, but I'm sick of the shower curtain gravitating towards me and clinging to my leg like an overzealous, pubescent pit-bull puppy.

I even have those stupid weighted magnets at the bottom of the curtain, but they don't really help; I don't have a bathtub made of medal. If my dumbbells weren't made of iron I'd tie the curtain to those.

I already wake up in a bad mood most days, and now I have to wrestle a giant piece of Saran-wrap for real estate while I'm wet and naked? I think I may need an extra shot of espresso this morning....

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Saving Private Ryan

I've often contemplated Harakiri...not on myself of course. I couldn't imagine pushing a dagger into my abdomen, and then forcefully dragging it horizontally across my torso until my insides are no longer where they belong. No, that's a little drastic, and messy. But the act of Sepuku on the blog however...is an act who's reality has become increasingly plausible with each passing day that does not see a sentence written by my hands.

I often wonder at what point a person who has dedicated his or her entire life to dancing, acting, or professional sports decide when their last audition is if they still do not achieve their goals. At what juncture does someone realize that the universe has been trying to nudge them in a different direction and decide against everything that feels right, in order to pursue a path different than the one of which they have been so sure?

I wonder if torn ligaments and crushed egos are the byproducts of greater forces imposing their will, or does coincidence, chance and serendipity ultimately decide who among us is chosen for greatness? I told a friend the other day that I was done with pursuing a career in writing, that I recognized that I didn't possess the right amount of whatever ingredients were necessary for a successful career as a writer. I'm not bitter, I will not live with regret, nor will I abandon an art that has granted me solace over the darkest years. I have simply chosen another path. I do not see this as quitting, relenting, or settling.

I've often struggled with the philosophical paradox of whether we truly possess choice, or if it is merely an illusion to which we are all slaves. I'm not sure we can have it both ways...things happening the way they are supposed to, as well as the ability to create a world by the power of our thoughts alone...or a bed to lie in as it were.

It's never been about how far the rabbit hole goes, but the reasons that motivated us to jump in it in the first place that truly matters. So, for now, the blog lives to see another day. Until of course, I, or fate, decide otherwise.