The boy enjoys borrowed pastels with lovely Robin at Zahra & Kate's birthday party at Rebecca's house in the Mission. Every time we do art together he brings new techniques and symbolism to the table, reminding me of me when I was a bit older than him, looking for tricks to make drawings look more real, and later still, more surreal. Doubt I could draw a better train. Thought he had overdosed on candy and begun to transform into an impossible devil-child, but the quintessential sugar high kicked in. Like the cowboy in the drugstore he rode on, started having a good time without random violence, although he does still sport a swollen purple knee from tripping running laps through the crowd. When I gave Erica a hug he seamlessly and with perfect timing broke from his laps and hugged her from the back. Sight gag prefecto; belly laughs from all witnesses. The kid could have invented flirting. While using a big pink towel to convert him into a burrito the previous evening I added beans, cheese, and was about to add rice when he asked Zahra in the sweetest voice, "Can you be the rice?" Hot one for shore. To demonstrate that we were in father-son party mode I wore pants cut from same fabric as his vest; thank Mama and her sewing machine.  

Rain washes over me - I sprout

Had a concrete pour at my Oaktown site last Wednesday. As I got close to the truck to check the load tags to verify the mix design, felt and smelled new rain. Dark clouds covered the sky I got jiggy with the thought of sprinkles in the East Bay in the month of Augustus, with me outside to enjoy them. Visions of seeds germinating and growing inside my fractal layered soul soil washed over the backdrop of my mind's eye, little green growing things my loyal friends. The miniature drops appearing on the load tag caused my vision and thoughts to sharpen. Nose picked up the smell of fresh rain and ran with it. Life that much better with the water for the moment. A leaky black hose hooked to the truck from janitor's closet on the 2nd floor of the building caught my eye, forced me to admit the artificial nature of the mood lifting precipitation. No matter, the seeds had already sprouted. Fields and forests continue to thrive within me, rivulets feed rivers that swell and sing on their way to magic moonlit dream seas seasoned sweet & salty with endless tears of pointless & hopeless resistance. I practice releasing past & future, leading my anxiety ridden spirit back to the here & now.

When I arrive home each night Wife passes daughter off to me. Daughter & I sit together as I eat, her legs pointing toward me to maintain connection. She smiles and blows bubbles, kneads me like an affectionate feline, kicks me surprising wake-up jolts for an almost 4-month old, smiles delightful. If I hand her off to Mama for a minute she keeps her eye on me, lets me know she enjoys our short evening times. Darling rides my left arm like twas ever thus, prostyle like the X Games, laughs at a most of my jokes, a perfect companion with silky hair and Baby Feels So Real skin. Never did get that Baby Feels So Real doll I wanted as a kid, but this angel infant showers dense blessings with an unmatched & pure generosity.

The boy rocks & rolls so icy I feel like I live with a superstar, perhaps Jim Morrison or Beck. Whenever he gets out of the bath he requests to be wrapped like a burrito in the towel. We eat artichokes together, sharing the hearts. We devour peaches and other summer fruits with tremendous gusto. The horses have started walking right up to our fence; he feeds them carrots, talks to them like they understand, and it seems they do. Time spent together adds life.

So there I contemplated mortality, cremation, friendship and long stretches of paved and unpaved roads, Joshua Tree. I can see why JY bought the place, very rugged and spectacular. Best star show in years. Go back someday, root around in the rocks & dirt, confront death on level after level, become the wild life.  

Ranch Life

Horses on the loose! Horses on the loose!

Horse ranches blanket El Sobrante, including the property behind ours. Some workers we hired took down some of the unsubstantial wire fencing to bring some building material into our yard, and should have put it back. The wife told me to put it back but I didn't get that our workers took it down and so did nothing. Next thing you know 900-lb giants clop clop clop right down the drive to Jesus' lawn; he waters his lawn much more regular than us. Left a voluminous pile of road apples on our other neighbors sidewalk too. A neighbor had the ranches number, so they came got 'em after a minute. The brown one caught easy, but the paint went tearing up the hill like a racehorse, amazing to watch, what with the main flowing out behind and a horsey expression of determined defiance. The guy from the ranch bitched about someone taking down his fence but I didn't know it was us yet, so I just agreed that it were a dern shame, and that I was glad no one got hurt too. When the paint first was introduced to the other horses, a couple of years ago, I saw it bite and kick the other horses, and chase them around, heard noises I'd never heard from horses before, noises that got the dogs riled and brought neighbors out of their homes in distress. Horses cruel to be kind; men also tend to see bullies as charismatic. I love living by them, especially the fiery tempered paint, except for the flies. Last night when I walked the daughter outside to try to quell her cries (wife had an evening out) I heard them whistle and grunt, felt good, wild western, ancient communication resonating in the vertabrae. Doesn't hurt that I'm almost finished with my 3rd Zane Grey (western) novel in a row. One morning after staying up late reading one, I realized that I had subconciously worn my cowboy hat, cowboy boots, western belt, and a semi-western shirt. Next time I'll wear the leather vest too.  

Very ladies

The Purpose Remover published a hilarious photo of me on a bicycle. Thanks Aspbryn.

Took the fam to the Ashby Ave flea market in Berzerkely last Sunday. As we approached the boy noticed a mom and her two teen-age daughters walking across the street. He asked me, "Are those ladies?"

Against my grandmothers advice, which told me that they were actually women or girls until character verfication, I told him, "Yes, those are ladies."

His response: "Very, very... ladies." I told him I knew what he meant. We enjoyed the drum circle and the college kids and the displays of sundry mineral, toys, and jewelery.

The moon waxes almost full, which revs the boy up plenty. He looks out for that moon with vigilance.

My brain stumbles over the poetry of Octavio Paz. Not very enjoyable to read, but it stays with one through the day, daring the reader to recreate those worlds of nostalgic Mexican angst de amor.

Imparting Rhythm

Rhythm I impart to the chilluns to the best of my dancing while holding a human ability. The girl got a lesson in The Doors first LP, listened to on vine hill, for that authentic hi-fi hyphe sound. She wore one of them tie-dye fits that looks like the wearer wears burning coals and flames. I wore my Grinch boxers and a plain white tee. Break on through to the other side. We danced the one-legged boog-a-loo off into the night. The boy looked over from his block sculpturing and commented "Daddy's dancing". Derned tootin'. When that energetic, life may not be crap after all, let's whip up some fun spirit enters one's leather bag of bones & blood I say ride that wave, rip curl, hang eleven. The boy busted with the rainstick after a time and we had to calm down to avert injury or property damage.

Took the boy to the lake (Anza) during the recent hot spell, his first time swimming there. We made friends fast with an 18-month boy named Salmon that lived up to his name. Very relaxing scene. When a playful woman splashed water in my boy's eyes he cried, but a little girl 7 or so with long red hair came up and with expert ease got him laughing. She informed us that she would play a mermaid in movie her dad planned to make at the lake later this summer; looked the part very much, full of questions. Saw a rural looking mother catch a wild duck for her son - you don't see that every day, that duck was pissed. Lakes kick ass over pools; sorry pools. I remembered after we got home (with a little help from the wife) that we'd met Salmon at the Temescal Street Fair when he was only a couple months old. A name like Salmon stands out.