Sunday, June 29, 2014

Hip Hip Hooray: Why I Don't Mind Being Called a Hipster

I just want to get something off my chest. 

If you could stick with me for five minutes or less, I want to talk about hipsterness. Mine in particular. 

To start with, I have developed a love for farm grown produce, smoked meats, freshly baked donuts, and artisanal rootbeer through a life of enjoying good home cooked meals and because I have a taste for delicious, uncomplicated food. 

I listen to weird rock, fringy pop, classical, folk, and 50's blues music because I love passionate art and have a hunger to discover new things at an insatiable pace. I love my music because music doesn't discriminate based on race or because of what clothes you wear or your social status.

Which brings me to my next point. I dress like this because I grew up shopping in thrift stores and wearing hand me downs. I also just happen to love scarves, coincidentally. I'll probably get some tattoos at some point, but until then I'll just have to be jealous. I can't grow a full beard but I would if I could. It makes you look like a viking and I think that's pretty bad ass. 

I love fountain pens and old fashioned typewriters because I read a lot of classic literature and I have a deep appreciation for well made objects. Craftsmanship used to make the world go round and it's really rewarding when you can take pride in your work. 

I use twitter and tumblr and have a website because I enjoy being connected to a larger planet, I feel like it gives me perspective. But I also strive to be present. If you come over for some authentically prepared international cuisine I won't be on my tablet unless I'm sharing music or poetry with you. 

Yes, I write poetry and short stories. Story telling is our most powerful form of communication and allows up us to transcend the bullshit and connect on a deeper, more personal level. It also helps me work through difficult stuff on my own, and provides me with free entertainment. 

And since I've brought up entertainment, since when is spending time outside something to be mocked? We live on an incredible planet which very often surpasses even the setting in the best fantasy movies. Bonfires, hikes, and parks are the sorts of things mankind was meant to spend their life enjoying. So get off your hypothetical high horse and get on a real one for once. 

I don't always want to work 8-5 and make barely enough money to give back to the federal government. Some day, I want to work on my terms, and do something I love. Life isn't about money. 

It's about truly experiencing this whole thing and sharing it with the people you love. 

Speaking of which, I love humans. Women's rights, gay rights, starving children, clean water, bring it on. Don't be afraid to talk about free the nipple or homelessness or religion because you're repressed or confused. Respect people for who they are, try to give something of yourself and don't expect anything back. Listen intently to people's stories. You might just learn something. Seek discomfort. Don't be afraid to talk to someone just because they are wearing a turban or have lots of peircings. 

I guess my whole point is, be yourself. I have tried to do this my whole life, and it just so happens that right now, many of my lifestyle choices have come in to style. Which is great for me because everything I've always had an affinity for is freely available in a bunch of stores which suits me perfectly, thank you. 

If you only take one thing away from this little rant let it be this. 

Don't let other people's opinions dictate anything about you. Listen to the music you like, dress how you want, eat food that tastes good and stop worrying about what it all means or how someone might label you. 

If you have any questions or feedback, let me know. 

Peace,
Gabriel

P.S.

Bacon is delicious, so shut up.

End.

Toms, for Joel

His name was Toms, and he was a model i8-90 artificial human analog. We stood on the balcony of the 317th floor looking out over the shit colored city. I lit a cigarette and thought about the victim's girlfriend in the apartment behind us, red faced and weeping as the forensic team packed up the body. 

I looked at Toms, "Are you familiar with the human emotion called empathy?" I asked. 
"Yes, of course." He answered coldly. 
I growled to him beneath my breath. "Then reboot your memory banks before we go back in there and stop being such a galactic cunt."

I dropped the death stick and stepped on it. We went back inside. 

I never considered that the sniper had been watching, or had designs to continue killing. The bullet appeared like magic and exploded Tom's chest in a spray of brilliant cherry. I never considered that maybe Toms hadn't been a robot at all. 

End.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Now

I just reread almost everything I've posted on here for the last two plus years.
I can say with confidence that I still like half of it. 
And I'm glad to report that the other half is not as bad as it could be. 
Well, some of it is...

Good night,
Gabriel

Summer VI, The Storm

Relief comes in long, grey, wet days
The fever of summer broken by a thunderstorm in late July
We check our basement stairs
And keep a wary eye on the yellow green sky

Friday, June 6, 2014

75 More Years

I fell in love with the color of your skin under moonlight
I fell in love with your summer freckles countless and bright
I fell in love with your blond, brown, blue, blond, red, black hair
I fell in love with the curves of your shape
I fell in love with the stars in your eyes
I fell in love with the sound of your voice
I fell in love with the taste of your lips
I fell in love with your unreserved smiles
With the way you say words
With your gentle caress
With your beautiful soul
With your quick-witted mind
With your true caring kindness
I fell in love with your sexy behind
I fell in love with the way you love me
I fell in love with your lacking knowledge of tea
I fell in love with your eating cupcakes wrappers
And listening to country music
And smooth dirty dancing
And occasional flashing
I fell in love with your scowly studying face
I fell in love with the way you embrace me around my waist
With the way you stand on your tiptoes to kiss me
Or to get cereal from the shelf
I fell in love with you wearing scratchy blue jeans to bed
I fell in love with kissing the top of your head
I fell in love with your merciless nerf skills
I fell in love during hundreds of movies
I fell in love playing Magic the Gathering
I fell in love with my truest soul mate and confidant
And I fell in love with my forever best friend


I love you Ravyn, and I always will.

End.

Seasons / Reasons

I hate summer hot and dry
I hate fall with piling leaves
I hate winter cold and mean
I hate spring both wet and dark
These seasons just don't suit me

End.

Summer V, Grief

It wasn't a fun summer
The summer your grandma died

We listened to the thunder
I held you as you cried

I didn't know how else to help
There's nothing, you replied

I'll never leave, I whispered
I gently dried your eyes

The summer rain fell in sheets
We fell asleep, and spooned all night

End. 

Summer IV, Manhattan

Grasses and weeds as high as trees
Dirt on the flint hills winds
We run through the Konza prairie
And wish for summer to never end

End.

Summer III, The Rhythm of the Sea

Nothing
Like beaches long and sand
Crashing waves
Sailing clouds
Small shells
Brightly colored coral
Seagulls cry
I, floating on back 
Crests and valleys
Thinking
Nothing

End.

Summer II, La fiesta fue el acabóse

Endless, high sun dogs shine
Blaring, booming, base beats
Tacos, tequila, tangos spinning
Endless summer laughter rises

Dogs barking, smoke black
Sweat and salt and spices drip
Brimming fruit drinks glisten
Brass music running on and on

End.

Summer I, The Fire

The sun burnt our skin to a crisp
It cracked the soles of our bare feet
It set our imagination on fire
And lit with flame our friendship

The moon shone bright on endless nights
With crackling meats and cold beers
The bonfires brought us together
And flashed high on salty coastal winds

Every summer has a story
A test, a heartache, a desire
And I'll love ours forever

End.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

I Am a Writer

I don't work in a cubical
But I am stuck in a box
I worry that my dreams will run away from me
And that I could never catch up
But even scarier is a thought that just occurred to me
What if my dreams are just a lie I tell myself to keep going
What if these dreams are just an imaginary glass ceiling
What if when I finally catch up to them and
It's just feathers, dust bunnies, and sunlight fairies
That writing is a lie I tell myself to get by
And if someone sat a desk in front of me and put a pen in my hand
I would just sit there, staring out the window
A stack of blank pages three reams thick to keep me company
A blank mind to match the empty book I'm not writing
Because you see
The truth is
I have time to get started on it now
But at the end of a long work day
Nothing comes to me
So I just eat dinner, watch TV, masturbate, and go to sleep
And dream about when I can finally quit my day job
And spend all of my time writing

End.