Saturday, November 29, 2008
That which you know, what if you don’t? or rather , what if you do, and don’t know it ‘s true, or false, or a true/false choose your own adventure book? Don’t explalin. Why is the last scene of episode 4 of season 3 of 6 feet under the most emotional, yet almost nothing happens, that moment between parent and child, where all is forgiven and all understood, yet nothing need be said. And then reality, the street, the yelling, the drama, the reality of the island urbanity, settles in and evokes dreams of ambrosia laced tirades. Best to switch from whiskey to beer at this point.
I love how when I’ve got a nice whiskey buzz going, all beer tastes like it was brewed and imbibed in Montrose. What is it about your home, your old stomping arena, that evokes ghosts of wherewithal, but, that, that’s such an obvious question, why ask it, but if you don’t ask the obvious, well, you’re avoiding it, right? So it’s good, right, to query that which lies so decadently and forthright in your frontal lobe, if not, well, denial central rang, and it wasn’t about shrimp or jerk chicken, it was for ye, able sailor of the seas and that which albatross fears to tether itself to, and don’t forget that which was etched in a tree in the park that shall not be named.
Yap yap yappety yap. Me, I type bumpkus at this station without hearing eff this eff that eff it with a whiffle ball bat, sigh shalom, perhaps not. I just checked on my girls and their sleeping the sound sleep of the innocent, but the guilty, they sleep like rocks too, take me for example, not that I’m guilty of anything in particular, but anyone over 10 has done enough to warrant some serious punishment unless you’ve been like banished to a leper colony and talking to volleyballs for 89% of your sojourn, and, well, then you’re good.
As I have a final few swallows of the green devil and tell you bout my life, I should mention a very odd phone call from tonite; a gentleman caller from Waianae seems to think that I have been having impromper relations with his wife; obviously nothing could be further from the truth, but my attitude and haoleness make him think otherwise. And he is the self professed “king” of said environs so what can you do. If all you see is a white splatter in the lower nuuanu boroughs, then, well, refer to the 11 oclock film and take what you will from it. Inspector number to be assigned out, gratzi for the bother, peace, bitten effect, your late pass is neither requested nor required; aloha.