Sunday Afternoon

"Son of A King"--He Would Say
Sunday still. I’m shooting to catch up on some blogging. I’m waiting for my wi-fi to connect with the Pepperdine business school’s network. It’s across the street from Howard Hughes Promenade. Whenever, I come by here I think of Prince. He was my VP. Good man. He promoted me to Sales Manager at Garden Grove. He also sold me his Honda Passport when my Integra was stolen. I believe he lives down the street. I should look him some time. Today is not that time.

If things go well, it should be Ostrich, Oceans, and Oscars. We’ll see. It’s 2 pm now. Jason got me a Starbucks chocolate something. I was expecting Hot Chocolate but Chocolate Shake something.  Yummy. It’s been like that a lot lately. Events have been turning out better than expected. I was supposed to meet Jason at the parking lot across the street at the Spectrum, but I wasn’t really listening and ended up paying for parking. I got a great pic over the freeway. Lucky I had my money in the backseat versus the trunk where I usually keep my stuff. Lucky for me my car loss its juice and I got a jump from this guy pulling in. Lucky I put my backpack in the backseat.

Lucky I waited to eat at Mickey Dees versus stopping by Charlie Brown’s and getting my first Ostrich burger. Stopped by got some picks of velociraptors and brachiosaurus. I wasn’t going to drive down to LA because of whatever reason. Decided to get up and go. It was and still is a beautiful day. Called Jason from the intersection of Sepulveda and Jefferson. He was the same intersection across the street at the same time. Went to go see Tatay and Rochelle, it’s been too long. 

Speaking To The Dead
Never spoke out loud talking at cemetery. Today, I did. In a generation, no one may be visiting them. To the nephews and nieces that will follow, they will just be plaques in the ground. They will never know how much any of them have meant to me. No one will never know the importance these people had on the people to come. 

Their lessons, their stories are not their own. They are mine. True, they may never have to chance to learn from the originator. Guess, we are carbon copies of the one’s before us. How many know our great, grand parents? How many know our grandparents? How many know our family's children? How many know your own children? Well, unlike many in the future, the virtual reality we live in just virtual. A dream.

Grafitti, High Scores, and Blogging
Beginning to understand the people who wanted to have their high scores on the video arcade games. I understand why taggers leave their markings on the overhead pass, on the walls of the freeway, on the sides of the road. They simply wanted to be remembered. If they are lucky, their tag will not be removed for awhile. Too bad, their tags are just lines on the road equated of with a troubled youth. Not growing up in the “Boys In the Hood” areas, I don’t understand the language. These messages are sending are gibberish. To me, its just a sadness. The best they got is spray paint on the road.

So much beauty out here and all they could do is inject into our memory a $1000 fine their parents have to pay because the best they can do is leave spray paint on the wall. Their best has created a government program unit to wipe any memory of their existence. That’s all they got. Sure. Some graffiti is beautiful, artistic; However, when they tag over others painting, it only illicits sorrow. Guess, their souls hurt deeply. Its true: Misery likes company. I hope these taggers find hope in their heart and better things to come. Maybe, they can find beauty before too long?

Artists All
I’ll admit my tastes are different than most. I like comics. I like unusualness. I like works that illicit intellectual gravitas. Give me John Byrne. Give me Frank Miller. Give me Piers Anthony, John Clancy, and Anne Rice. Give me Leonardo da Vinci. Give me Sting. Sarah McLachlan. Matisyahu. Nina Simone. Muhammad Ali. Bruce Lee. Whoever are your muses, look with softer eyes in people. Look at their aura. There’s pain there. There is anger there. Some are that are lost and unaware there’s something better—and they deserve that Goodness. People have goodness. It’s there. Don’t sympathize, empathize. Their actions are theirs to own.

“Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them”--Bruce Lee 

As my cousin Vince posted on his Facebook page, “All of us have Love in us. It’s just are harder to find in some.”