On an Autumn Night in Hawaii

"I haven't danced since Mexico."

Hawaii: day one

another long travel day. Left hong kong international after a 4 hour delay, layover in Korea then an 8 hour plane ride to Hawaii.

Hawaii is okay. The weather is pretty nice, I didn't get to see much because I arrived in the night. The airport employees weren't very competent (or nice). The place I'm staying in is pretty good, a bit on the expensive side but at least it comes with hot water and a full kitchen so I can't complain, the place is dirtier than I thought it'd be though. If I can find a place that rents boards for cheap, I'll probably trying surfing tomorrow. I've always wanted to do that. How many people get to say they've been to hawaii and surfed in hawaii? not many. What a long strange trip it's been.

Idiocracy

Goddamn it. I'm going back to Central America. Fucking evangelical in-bred fucktards eagerly bending over and lubing themselves up for another round of penetration by the corporatocracy. Knuckle-dragging neanderfucks happily guzzling the trickled-down ejaculate of rich, old, white bastards and saying "thank you" aftwards. Cockgobbling herp-derpers taking big bites of the giant republican shit sandwhich while verbally abusing the waiter and complimenting the chef. Ignorant camel cunts on their bruised knees deepthroating Bush's big cock, choking on his hot jism while gagging through their noses and fighting back the tears. Idiotic cuntscabs holding the pocket of the Illuminati like a right bitch. God-dicking sons of rats shitting in our milk. Niggerfaggots offering their virgin daugters to be torn apart for sport by their corporate slave masters. Hypocritical closeted cock sucking child molesters declaring their love of god, freedom and country while their dicks are six inches up a choir-boy's love hole. Dick-less daughter-fuckers contentedly blind after the military-industrial-financial complex jizzed right in their eyes. Twat waffles too busy spooning with O'Reilly in Palin's cold rancid maggot-infested meat hole to notice the stench of their stupidity. Motherfucking youth too fucking busy fapping to interracial-pregnant-bestiality-transgendered midget porn while facebooking to fucking vote. Semen gargling fucknuts screeching their infantile rhetoric. Dick-juggling dumb-as-cockroaches douchebags voting against their own pox-ridden interests. Self-deluded self-proclaimed patriots cluster fucking at the altar of Beck. Mob of politically-illiterate swine circle-jerking on the bloody corpse of Lady Liberty. Fucking disingenuous savages curbstomping Lady Justice's face to a pulp and saying "you're welcome". Sorry excuses for failed abortions going around and pooping on everyone's party. God damn it.

Goddamn it I say.

Andy Irons dead at 32. weird.

Update: sleeping pills are for the strong.

Hong Kong II

Soundtrack for Hong Kong:
Big City: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7BakKHwXOg
The Crowd : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USgXfkkxnLE





Hong Kong has some nice lines too. HK is like SF but more. More grittier, more people, more shops, more restaurants, more (luxury) cars, more taxis. But mostly more grittier.

Hong Kong

Eating and shopping. That is all.

Indian Food at Chunking

Ate at an Indian restaurant. They had a TV on the wall. But they were not playing Bollywood dance musicals. They, in fact, had the BBC on.

This is probably the most unusual thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

The previous sentence is probably the most hyperbolic thing I've ever written in my entire life.

Fear me, for I am cultured

I went to a Picasso exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum where I learned a lot about life, art and their imitation of each other.

I was excited to hear that my favorite Picasso painting was going to be on display. Alas, I had gotten the titles of the pieces mixed up and instead of my favorite piece (called Old Guitarist), what was on display was his famous Man with Guitar. So, that was disappointing.


My favorite painting ever, Old Guitarist. I had a small print of this on my dorm wall when I was going to school at UW. When I left UW to return home to hawaii I gave the print to my brother (he says it's somewhere in his garage). I would sit at my desk and stare at this piece for many hours, usually while procrastinating in doing my homework.


The Scene: Sunday afternoon, cold Seattle afternoon, extra-ordinary Picasso exhibit, very crowded galleries full of yuppies, older ladies and gentlemen, art students, hipsters with tattooes, families with kids, and well dressed gay black men. Then there were the people like me, those with $23 and a desire to say, "Yes, I've seen Picassos". The gallery was noisy with people trying to be quiet.

The Point:
What is art? What is life? Which one imitates the other? does it matter? what is art? what is the meaning of this or that painting? What is the meaning of this or that life? These are the heavy, deep questions we humans have struggled with since time immemorial. And these were the questions I was pondering when I watched a little girl-child toddle up to a large Picasso painting, point up to it and say, "I can see her boobies!".

Leave it to a beautiful, naive, innocent girl-child to put everything in perspective. Because, isn't all of life and all of art, really, just about seeing the boobies?

The Lines, The Beautiful Lines

bus lines, streetcar lines, intersecting lines, perpendicular lines, pick up lines...so many aesthetically pleasing lines.

Night on Earth

San Francisco

Yeah, I think I am going to stay here and open up a little coffee shop/bakery.

random thoughts

When the air temperature is in the 50's and the wind is blowing through the city canyons, what does it feel like to be a woman wearing a short skirt?

The greyhound bus is luxurious. no joke.

Why is there a crack pipe in my pocket?



This pool table, is the story of my life.

Bizzare Love Triangle

I fell in love in Los Angeles. Her name was Book Soup. Then I met Citylights Bookstore in San Francisco. I loved them both so much I bought their books at retail price, something I never do. I wanted to give them my money.

Throw Amazon.com into the mix and you have yourself a sordid love square.




He was the "doctor de amor", I was "right bar corner guy". But, oh! how I made her laugh

In-N-Out Burger

Finally had the In-n-Out burger I've been looking forward to for years now.

I didn't realize how disappointed I could be until I finally got what I always wanted.

LA

I see now the appeal of living in a place Los Angeles and to be a part of the Melrose, Hollywood, Sunset, and Santa Monica scene. It's all so...hip.

I also see now the appeal of iPhones. It saved my life ten million times in the 3 days I was there. Don't leave home without it.

I may have diabetes.

Waited for Bill Clinton to appear at a UCLA political rally, but had to leave early to meet my sister for dinner. As cool as it would have been to see Bill, he's no Noam Chomsky.

26 and three fifths

I should have done this sooner.

Beautiful Poetry

Uninspiring cliche lines magically become poetry when written in chalk on a foreign sidewalk in front of a local high school:

estoy enamorada

eres mi vida

The Yeah Yeah Yeah's Acoustified

Listen to this. Or don't. I don't care.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJf2FQDl8Ig

random pics

If the graffiti at the hostel in Pavones is to be believed, Kelly Slater stayed there and Joel Parkinson stayed in the same room as I was in. I don't know why pro surfers would stay at that not particularly nice hostel when there are better options around. Also, Ivan de la 808 representing. look at top right of pic.


cool pic i took of a stingless black bee eating jam.


I met a gay botanist in Dos Brazos. The gay botanist had a nice little garden around his house. Marlon might recognize this vine he had growing in the back. The gay botanist was cool. I just like saying "gay botanist". If you saw a pic of him, you'd realize how fun it is to refer to him as the gay botanist.

Recap: Pavones

Pavones as a surf spot, was disappointing. Pavones as a postcard perfect beach town was pura vida. I was there four full days. The first day I rented a bike and rode down pura vida. The second day was completely rained out. The third day I rented a 7'10" and showed the local kooks how it's done, I was shredding it. Day four, was spent taking long walks on the beach and watching the sunset. Pura vida.


A picture of me looking particularly skinny sexy.


The I-thought-it-only-exists-in-postcards country road separated from the beach by a thin strip of palm trees.






pura vida.

Catching up: Bolita

This was the house I lived in for two weeks in the mountains. Yep.

Bolita is a lodge. People can pay 10 dollars a night to stay there and hike the 14 km of trails on the 61 hectacre mountain property. It is beautiful there. It was an experience. This was the place where I had beans all day every day, woke up to roosters, gotten eaten alive by sandflies, stepped on snakes and stuff like that.


Stupid chance is the only reason I did not step on this gi-normous snake. It was easily at least five feet long.


Crossing the river with an empty propane tank. Then going back up the mountain with a full one. I felt like a Chinese peasant.


View from my balcony. This was sunset.

Recap: San Isidro Del General

I was walking with a goat. I said please. Please don't insist. Ever hear the expression, "stubborn as a goat"? Expressions like that come from goats like Lief.

I learned that I hate farm animals. Fuck goats, fuck sheep, fuck geese, rabbits are cool, fuck chickens. Those fucking goats.


The admittedly delicious and enjoyable breakfast I had everyday. Missing from this picture is the fresh, homemade Mennonite cheese I devoured daily. Other than the cheese, my time at Noe's farm was an ordeal.


The house i stayed in. It may seem charming and eccentric at first sight, but it becomes loathsome after two weeks.

Travel Day

Another long travel day yesterday, it was an 18 hour day. Woke up at 4:30am after a sleepless night. Caught the 5:30am collectivo for 1200 colones. endured a painfully bumpy two and a half hour ride from Pavones to Golfito. From Golfito caught the bus to the "duty Free area". had breakfast with coffee there for 1,900. sat around for a couple of hours, had lunch there for 2,300. caught the bus to the bus terminal and bought a ticket to San Jose for 6,000. waited in an uncomfortable sunny park for a few hours (where did I get the romantic idea that laying on the grass in a sunny park is an enjoyable activity?). Got on the bus at 2:30pm and rode for 7 hours. stopped once to eat rice and salsa dish at a rest stop for 1,600 (saw a girl who was too beautiful to be working at a highway rest stop cafeteria). Arrived in sketchy downtown san jose bus depot at 9:30pm, talked to a hooker for a minute, caught a cab to my old hostel for 1,800.

home sweet home.

The Beginning of the End

Sitting on the black sand beach at sunset waiting for the epiphanies, but the epiphanies won't come.

Damn it, I need closure!

October 5, 2010

How do I know I am living on a mountain in costa rica? Ants in my lemonade, wild animals eating my food, eating beans everyday, rooster crowing next to my head at dawn, walking around topless in the rain chopping things with a machete, stepping on snakes, etc...

updates depending on whether or not there is internet at Pavones.

had to catch a $20 cab from farm to Puerto Jimenez because we missed the morning shuttle, in PJ had breakfast and got money from the bank, then from PJ took a $5 ferry to Golfito. from Golfito, going to Pavones by bus at 3pm.