Paving the road to nowhere, one word at a time.

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Location: Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico

American born, living in Mexico since 1992.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The 2012 Problem

Someone brought up 2012 earlier, so I thought I would take the opportunity to explain what is going on here, since I've had a small amount of time to study the Maya and their culture.

According to many scientists, the world will end on December 21st, 2012. Ancient Mayan computers, called "Big Giant Stone Tablets", were not programmed to continue beyond that date. At the time, programmers used an ancient computer language called "Olmec", inputting code through an ancient interface called a "chisel". The problem was that in those times the Maya were limited to base-18 and base-20, thus creating the systematic problem of "vigesimal roll-over". Scientists have been attempting to rectify the problem by inputting a newer code in base-64, but have so far been unable to master such intricate commands as "two straight lines underneath a squiggly one" and "dude with large head and big bulging eyes".

Hope that clears things up.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Terrorist Alert Threatens Holidays

TORONTO – Multiple unnamed sources are reporting that a level red terrorist alert will be issued beginning tomorrow. The sources, who wish to remain anonymous due to not having authorization to publicly comment, state that it is believed a fringe terrorist group originating extreme Northern Canada that goes by the name of San Taclas, plans on leaving packages distributed randomly, world wide. No word has been given by authorities close to the situation concerning the expected contents of the packages, although explosives and bio-hazardous chemicals have not been ruled out.

Little is known about the San Taclas. It was a wire-tapping anti-terrorist effort launched during the Bush administration where officials first learned of the group, through telephone conversations between what one source describes as, "Frighteningly young individuals that apparently have the capacity to communicate through a complex global network." The name "taclas" is French in origin, second-person singular past historic of "tacler", one who tackles. French authorities deny knowledge of any link the San Taclas has to France itself, although one spokesperson suggested that perhaps Quebec would become a focus of investigation. Government officials from the Canadian province have yet to issue a formal statement, but a spokesperson from Ontario was quoted as saying, "Quebec is a separate issue."

According to documents made public by the Freedom of Information Act, active operatives of San Taclas include extremely short people with large ears. They are believed to have been recruited for their ability to squeeze in and out of tight spaces and their acute sense of hearing. A leader of the terrorist group, who goes only by the name of Nicholas, is believed to be hiding in the most remote regions of Northern Canada in the company of his wife. Her name is not known. Efforts to find the location have failed, in large part due to the rugged and hostile environment of the region. The only wildlife able to withstand the frigid temperatures are seals, polar bears, and surprisingly, reindeer.

A press conference is expected to be held on December 24th, where authorities are likely to reveal more information concerning the situation.

Saturday, December 11, 2010


How can you see into my eyes
like open doors?

Leading you down
into my core

Where I’ve become so numb

Without a soul,
my spirit sleeping somewhere cold

Until you find it there
and lead




* * * *

Mine is a love story. Perhaps. I usually have to think about it, but not about her. I can’t tell you in terms of quantity how many times I came close to leaving this house, nor will I count the times that I did. It isn’t out of embarrassment. She doesn’t read my columns. Neither do my children. Too many words. This is what happens.

Anna was conceived on the living room floor in a house in Rowland Heights, California. This is one of my fondest memories ever. It was over eighteen years ago. Slowly after that Rocio leaked. We all leak. She timed it perfectly. I’m not so certain I could handle it as well now as I did then.

We married a few months later. Right there in Rowland Heights. I would have invited you all if I had known you back then, if we’d have been friends. My parents would’ve appreciated it. The Mexicans certainly represented. Again, this is what happens.

When Rocio leaked first, it was on the front porch of that house in Rowland Heights. It was all I could do not to fall down. Sometimes people go to war and we’re just too wrapped up in our own lives to realize it. I got it, it hit me right upside the head. She had come undone. I couldn’t blame her at all.

* * * *

(Wake me up) wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up) wake me up inside
(Save me) call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up) bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up) before I come undone
(Save me) save me from the nothing I’ve become...

* * * *

"Well, baby, I’m drinking and I’m smoking."

Of course, she doesn’t like the response. First boyfriend was killed by the cops here. The son is named after him, "Juan". Then came her fiancée, he was murdered in cold-blood in Long Beach, California while she was still pregnant with Juan. I don’t utter his name in this house, I respect her that much. Holy shit. So, I found this all out when we were betrothed. And she said to me this: "When I die, I want to take my children with me."

Which, obviously, was a suicide note in the making.

We argued over that one for weeks. Ultimately, she changed her mind. So, back then, when we got married, I can’t for the life of me remember what we danced to. I can only promise you that it wasn’t exactly well planned. Later, I told her that our song, that the song where I always thought of her when I heard it, was "Everlong" by the Foo Fighters. This was, and remains pretty much true. But our real song is this one. On both sides, I promise you.

After all, I leak too.

* * * *

that I know

What I’m without
you can't just

Leave me

into me

And make
me real



to life...

* * * *

And so, I married her and I reckon we saved each other. After all, I was still beating my skull against the wall from my first marriage. An ex, two kids. I still miss those kids. I still dream about them, they’re still that young and I can still be their father. Last dream was just a few nights ago. It’s the latest of hundreds. Never mind the boy has a daughter I’ve yet to meet and the girl is approaching thirty. They are still four and seven in my pea-brain.

These things beat me up constantly.

But you know, there are so many other things I never talk about with the wife. My writing is one, I’ve learned, she just wants to sleep and I don’t blame her. Her past and my past, those are other things left untold. What we have is now. Right? No idea about the kids. Television, I reckon.

"Really dad, did you write something again?"

I could always lie. "Just more lesbian stories."

They would never read them. Thank God for lesbians.

* * * *


your touch


Your love

Only you
are the life




(all this time I can't believe I couldn't see
kept in the dark but you were there in front of me)

I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems
got to open my eyes to everything

(without a thought without a voice without a soul
don't let me die here)

There must be something more...





* * * *

And you know, it doesn’t always take all of this. Sometimes two people look at each other. Something clicks. But I think it’s when two people understand a simple thing together and they never have to even communicate it, I think that’s when it really comes together. You know, figure it all out on your own time. Meanwhile, I’ve got a few hundred words to hide away here.

And do me a favor? Don’t tell my wife that this is our song. But it is. On both sides. She saved my ass, too.