Posted 12:14 PM by Alfred

the clippers fired coach Alvin Gentry. Part of me is like, "Gentry never had a chance, let him be happy that he at least got some dolla billz while he was in the game," and part of me is like "ya know what? fuck alvin gentry, i mean, he never made that team play at all beyond their capabilities or fostered an atmosphere of team over individual, even though YES it's virtually impossible with Donal Sterling as the owner." So the new coach is Dennis Johnson or something like that. yeah, he should bring the clips back to contention. fuk you could practically put in Coco the famous smart chimpanzee and maybe ingest some hype into that team. jump around and bash all their heads in, get them into the game. I watched the clippers dump the game to portland Friday nite and it PISSED me off. part of the clipper fan inside me died at that moment. part of the glory that i'd somehow promised myslef never imaginated itself in true corporeal form. it just never happened, and i guess i partly blame myself for that.

in other news, honolulu mayor jeremy harris came up with an annual budget including pick up of recyclables by the trash men. About frikken time jeremy, but don't think that will get you reelected you snake in the grass. Do you know how many bottles cans plastics that I and my brethren on this island throw away because we're piles and if they had pickup i'd recycle everything, dagnabbit. so it is and so it shall be.

in other big time news, i took a motorcycle safety class this weekend (first of three saturday meetings) at leeward community college, over da hill, you buggaz. so anyway, the name of the instructor is Rodd Johnson. I kid you not, and that is exactly how he spells his name. and he is intense but he knows what the hell is up with motorcycles, and if you ever have any kind of motorcycling issue you'd best take it up with uncle rodd cuz he will ensure that total badassness yet with an emphasis on safety is your modus operandi. so i'm like a pretty bad ass motorcycle rider. if you see me on a harley 1976 centennial edition with a dog named spike riding shotgun, then throw me up a shaka playa!

The fleet is soon going to diminish as all the chickens are coming to roost. ah well, poetry is motion and existentialism is simply a foothold into the world's consciousness. at least that's what a bum told me in from of johnny's thrift store this morning. he had a sign that said "everything ends." with a little can for change sitting there. i threw him a two dollar bill like a paper airplane, and he stood up and belted out probably the truest rendition of oingo boingo's "only a lad" that i've heard since the late 80's, rolling through descanso gardens after dark and frollicking like orphans on a get out of jail free day, floating like bees over the flower bed, checking out the birds before ice blocking down the south hill into oblivion and the jubilationized feeling that the whole enchilada was ahead, staring you in the face yet off to the side hiding behind a veil of choices and fears.

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