Intimate

Cinematic Moment: Intimate.

There comes a day in every life

I think

When we grow too familiar with ourselves

Over acquainted with the backs of our own hands

or the right leg that stretches just a bit further than the left.

The preoccupation with ones mind trickles down into the mundane

A slow crawl into the affliction known as routine.

Wandering slightly out of the wonder of self discovery

like falling out of love

with someone whose knowledge of foreign government was once intriguing and now dull.

There are days I'd like to rearrange the face in the mirror

mixing and matching the parts until they form something brand new

Something fresh and beautiful

perspectively speaking.

I would remaster the art of painting a new pair of lips with matte red and pink gloss.

Memorize all over again the lengths of borrowed lashes

the eyebrow where my nose once sat upon my face.

Indeed I would.

For now

the mannerisms are not quite as memorable

The jokes are not nearly as funny

when it's actually just me.

--cs@2010

For all you Floridians...

...Come on out to the St. Petersburg Pier for zombies, music and good times. Myself and other ZSP contributors, along with "Breathers" author S.G. Browne, will be there signing books, giving undead hugs and having a dashing old time. See you there!

Take a little trip.

Cinematic Moment: From China with Love.

Nothing can really prepare you for the first steps out of the safety of an airport and into a truly foreign place. You can read books, buy quickie guide phrase translators, and do your homework online. Go for it. None of it counts when you are staring in the face of a country with customs, tradition, even laws you don't fully understand. A social faux pas at home may be embarrassing, but ultimately something to laugh off: In a foreign country, it could brand you for the remainder of your stay. The punishment for breaking most mid-range laws in the states is some light jail time, maybe house arrest. In this new land, the punishment is death. And the clincher? You have no idea what anyone is saying. (*Cue Law & Order theme*)

I consider myself a fairly seasoned traveler. I have the airline security check down to a fine art, much like Clooney's character in Up in the Air. Shoes undone, computer in hand, liquids pre-packed in ziplock and handy, cotton clothes, no metal, sans jacket. An understanding of the rules makes me comfortable. At least enough to see which I will choose to break. This is why our recent trip to China threw me for such a loop. For Westerners, the is nothing more foreign than the East. The lack of dairy, the currency exchange, the treatment of animals we would call pets, the government, alphabet, toilets (and toilet training for that matter. Can you say "cut a hole in the toddler's pants and let him or her go anywhere?") food, dishwashers, medical care, internet censorship...the list could go on for pages. That is not to say that the differences are bad in any way, they're just, well, different. And the dissimilarities have me more intrigued with a culture than I've ever been.

Take, for instance, the pride of the Chinese in their history and growth. They are a nation on the brink of unbelievable progress and success, yet they are proud of each small step to a degree that is humbling to a Westerner. They respect their elders and the idea of loyalty. On certain holidays, the children bow to their parents and grandparents, a way of saying thank you for taking on the job of parenting. Then there are the things passed on for generations, be it a fable or story of a Buddha or simply a tradition such as the art of preparing tea. I was so mesmerized by the beauty of brewing tea in China--the meticulous pressing of the leaves, mixing of different flowers and mushrooms, giving the first tea to the copper frog for good luck and prosperity--it seemed like liquid poetry. I probably drank 3 gallons of tea while there and I couldn't stomach the stuff before we went.

We walked the Great Wall, with its uneven steps covered in snow and ice, hiked to the top of a mountain to burn incense to the goddess of Mercy, Guan Yin. We ate with the locals out of shared bowls, throwing our germophobic caution to the wind and perused the Forbidden City, where thousands of years of dynasties lived and reigned. I saw Chairman Mao's Memorial, where he still rests, encased in a crystal coffin. We stood above the tombs of the Ming Dynasty, learned to say everything from "I don't need it. It's too expensive" to "One coke with ice, please" in Cantonese, and laughed at our own awkwardness when children began to cry upon seeing us. There were strange aquatic creatures, sweet potatoes cooked over garbage cans, acrobats, pearls, 5 star hotels, what felt like -2 star hotels, the coldest temperatures in a century, string pianos, rock bands playing hooked up to car batteries on the streets, filthy water, 3 hour long massages...We took as much in as possible.

Writing a post like this is not typical for me. Usually I try to capture tiny moments, but I would have had to divide this into 1,000 smaller posts about every other hour spent there. So instead I can only give you the feeling really. Of course the trip didn't go exactly as planned. Nothing ever does in life (and I firmly believe the difference between happy and unhappy people is their ability to recognize that.) But it was the most incredible experience of my life. If you get the chance, travel as much as you can to places that captivate or even intimidate you. You may leave, changed.

Bad Dog Blog in real life.

Cinematic Moment: Two stupid dogs.

Barbara has taken two topples down the icy stairs this week with no injury, which, at a whopping 10 pounds is like falling off a 5 story building and walking away unscathed. Thursday afternoon I had to remove her from the FedEx man's shoe as she attempted to attack him on his walk back to the truck. I guess she should be rewarded for letting him deliver the presents first. Yesterday, she survived the 8 year old niece's toting her around like the newest Dora the Explorer doll.

Benson chooses to live on the edge by experimenting with exotic food options. This weekend alone he has ingested a red bean Kit Kat from Japan, a bag of airline chocolate chip cookies he stole from my laptop bag, a carton of candy cigarettes from the boyfrianceband's Christmas stocking and quite possibly our second Apple TV remote. I thought I misplaced the first one, but the latest disappearance from the only coffee table he can reach has me wondering. I had to pry the last candy cigarette from his locked jaw as he tried to run from me with it like a true addict.

I'm beginning to think my dogs are bred with wolverine and garbage disposal. You know, it's not like we never taught them to behave like civilized doggie beings. They have organic food with flax seed oil, choke-proof collars, wonderful-looking fancy toys. Yet still they continue to play ONLY with the Christmas ones, as if they received the ripped-to-shreds-Santa-plus a decade ago and simply haven't gotten another toy since (cue sad violins.) We brush their teeth with poultry toothpaste and give them delicious treats when they do pretty much anything mildly entertaining. They even have health insurance, dammit! So how is it that we raised these hoodlums? Is there no reward for good doggie parenting? Pray for our children people, pray hard.

PS. Happy Holidays from LOCM, Chonny and her silly silly pups--xxx

Funeral for a friend.

Cinematic Moment:  Progressive (but kind of awful.)

Over the weekend, I picked up one of my favorite print publications, Bust Magazine.  I love this magazine, I really do.  Spunky bitching, resourceful trip planning, great storytelling and cheapo crafts on a budget all in one place?  Sign me up.  I read it religiously and highly recommend it to any intelligent man or woman out there.

That said, I have a confession about the December issue:  It scared the shit out of me.  No, it wasn't the tutorial on how to knit your own fab garments or the amazing Christmas gift lists from editors and staff members (including a yellow bicycle that made me physically drool on the pages.  Seriously, now they're stuck together.)  It was a little sub-section for DIYers facing life events.  The portion about planning your own budget wedding?  Cool!  Even the blurbs about giving birth in your living room in a baby pool were at least...understandable (though images of sitting in the aftermath of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre in a plastic pool shaped like a turtle is not the imagery I was wishing for this holiday season.)  I mean, who wouldn't want to bring a child into the world in the privacy of her own home, without 15 doctors and nurses staring at your lady parts and poking you with sharp things.  Plus, you could order in Chinese food afterwards.  Sweet and Sour Chicken and placenta all in one place.  

The article that this CM is about, is the section where Bust suggests you might want to handle the burial of a friend or family member yourself.  And I don't mean picking out the right poem or the outfit you know they'd want to rest in peace in--I mean, literally cleaning and burying this person on your own time. Now, I like to think I have a pretty open mind.  I also have so much love in my heart for those close to me that I'm overwhelmed with emotion even considering them being gone. But the recommendation to pick your loved ones body up from the morgue in, you know, your Honda Civic (because it's legal in most states to transport a body without a hearse) and schlep them back to the your house for preparations (AKA the apartment you share with a roommate and an overly curious cat) just seems a bit extreme.  It even goes so far as to suggest a website where you can learn to "clean and prepare" the body without embalming and either buy your own casket online or, hell, who needs a casket, right?  

I certainly have mixed feelings about what I want when I pass, but the idea of cremation and donating my organs is winning the battle at the moment.  I also don't necessarily see a problem with burying a body in the natural soil (where lawful.)  But the article made it death seem like baking a cake for a friend or picking someone up from the airport, not really addressing the emotional and lasting repercussions such a burial process might have in a Western frame of mind.  Not to mention the truly horrifying things that undertakers see daily in their lines of work, which may not be the last way you want to view your beloved grandmother.  Just one girl's opinion, but this is a CM I want no part of.  

Gabba Gabba

Cinematic Moment: Some quality overheard quotes from California's finest.

"I am suing Macy's because I ran into a statue outside their store. Some stupid sculpture. And I wasn't even drunk."

"You can't fool me. I'm a CPA!" (man asking for a dollar)

"I'm reading about training the kids the way the Dog Whisperer does."

"Hello good looking sir. Might I possibly trouble asking you for a quarter?"

"Why are we allowing women to perpetually pat themselves on the back without calling them on their shit?"

"Most days he's a nasty killer." (Guy whose sleeping dog doesn't wake up despite us petting it)

"Well from a philosophical standpoint, who am I not here with, really..." (Man to woman asking him who he's at the hotel with)

Sorry dudes...

...been a little tied up;) Be back next week!