Saturday, July 26, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
LACMA at night: Miracle Mile area of LA.
Coming home late one night and I had to snap a picture of this scene. Never really liked the piece but something caught my eye as I drove by.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
The Collective Scream: Sex and the City
AGGGGH!!! Have you ever felt like finding some rooftop perched high above the city to scream? To just let out everything all in one breath. To inhale newness. Ever desire to sink away to some high place in the mountains away from the mundane and from that endless gulp in your throat, to find a calm that soothes the soul?
As a teen I imagined another world much more rewarding to the soul than within this skin. It was a wanting to escape that was deeper than words can describe--the scream much further than the lips.
With the summer comes beautiful release. But more also comes in the form of the all-too-familiar craziness of realizing that a future lies ahead and you have no idea how it's going to be resolved.
Meanwhile a past barks at you, which makes it so much more enjoyable to idle in the present--to live in the present and make the best of all situations and especially to make the best of summer.
The summer is a time of release--we sweat more, the sun peels our skin and reveals new layers--and for this we have to take in more. We gulp down more liquids, we rest more (is that why sleep feels so good in the summer?).
We even desire more--food, dance, the cooling sensations of flesh on flesh, warm lips, bright smiles, hearty laughs, and music that caresses the soul. Like a chubby kindergarten runt building a deep bridge in the sand just before the tide, I lap for the last remaining sunlight before the summer is over and fall sets in.
But the scream will persist long after the time changes and the leaves begin to fall from their trees. Because it originates in a place that I'm sure can't be found by a medical doctor or a psychiatrist or even an expert radiologist.
It beckons my ancestors, my mother and family, and especially my friends. It's a call to GOD and to love, to the future, to change, to happiness, hoping that a response will be heard in return. Little but an echo returns and I realize that in this summer the scream exists in a place that surpasses the physical, mental, and spiritual.
You know, I was able to form some connections around this time last year with some interesting characters. I was out of work. My relationship was in shambles. I was recovering from the loss of loved ones--seriously recovering like a victim of a car accident. And it was beautiful. I was talking to all sorts of random people on the street--sharing and experiencing another being and their pain and happiness and their strength and vision. I learned about myself, about Love and humanity, and how much one gains from embracing humanity by sharing in it with others.
The world that I imagined as a teen is slowly coming to being. It's an engagement. It's a deeper connection with a few where our humanity is kept out in the open--our sex and sexual preferences, likes and dislikes, our dreams, passions and our goals. It is no secret what our ideas are about religions, faith, God, racism and gender roles. We talk about film and music and our insecurities.
And we are worlds apart. But our screams become a song. A collective yearning ... a collective embrace.
Just like sex and the city, the idea of a tight-knit posse is quite alluring. I like the idea that a group can get together and share so much of themselves and really be friends instead of backbiting and murmuring and judging and tip-toeing around little insignificant bullshit. If it can be dreamed, it can be accomplished. There are friendships like this. I've been graced with such friendships.
And I believe even more is possible. There exists in this crazy, unfamiliar, and often frustrating world the ideal of connection and solidarity with others. And this mutuality gives birth to creation and something even more contagious--Love and peace. And even though my desire to scream persists, I'm stepping in and holding on, because God is amazing.
As a teen I imagined another world much more rewarding to the soul than within this skin. It was a wanting to escape that was deeper than words can describe--the scream much further than the lips.
With the summer comes beautiful release. But more also comes in the form of the all-too-familiar craziness of realizing that a future lies ahead and you have no idea how it's going to be resolved.
Meanwhile a past barks at you, which makes it so much more enjoyable to idle in the present--to live in the present and make the best of all situations and especially to make the best of summer.
The summer is a time of release--we sweat more, the sun peels our skin and reveals new layers--and for this we have to take in more. We gulp down more liquids, we rest more (is that why sleep feels so good in the summer?).
We even desire more--food, dance, the cooling sensations of flesh on flesh, warm lips, bright smiles, hearty laughs, and music that caresses the soul. Like a chubby kindergarten runt building a deep bridge in the sand just before the tide, I lap for the last remaining sunlight before the summer is over and fall sets in.
But the scream will persist long after the time changes and the leaves begin to fall from their trees. Because it originates in a place that I'm sure can't be found by a medical doctor or a psychiatrist or even an expert radiologist.
It beckons my ancestors, my mother and family, and especially my friends. It's a call to GOD and to love, to the future, to change, to happiness, hoping that a response will be heard in return. Little but an echo returns and I realize that in this summer the scream exists in a place that surpasses the physical, mental, and spiritual.
You know, I was able to form some connections around this time last year with some interesting characters. I was out of work. My relationship was in shambles. I was recovering from the loss of loved ones--seriously recovering like a victim of a car accident. And it was beautiful. I was talking to all sorts of random people on the street--sharing and experiencing another being and their pain and happiness and their strength and vision. I learned about myself, about Love and humanity, and how much one gains from embracing humanity by sharing in it with others.
The world that I imagined as a teen is slowly coming to being. It's an engagement. It's a deeper connection with a few where our humanity is kept out in the open--our sex and sexual preferences, likes and dislikes, our dreams, passions and our goals. It is no secret what our ideas are about religions, faith, God, racism and gender roles. We talk about film and music and our insecurities.
And we are worlds apart. But our screams become a song. A collective yearning ... a collective embrace.
Just like sex and the city, the idea of a tight-knit posse is quite alluring. I like the idea that a group can get together and share so much of themselves and really be friends instead of backbiting and murmuring and judging and tip-toeing around little insignificant bullshit. If it can be dreamed, it can be accomplished. There are friendships like this. I've been graced with such friendships.
And I believe even more is possible. There exists in this crazy, unfamiliar, and often frustrating world the ideal of connection and solidarity with others. And this mutuality gives birth to creation and something even more contagious--Love and peace. And even though my desire to scream persists, I'm stepping in and holding on, because God is amazing.
One day, our movies will be made and our stories will be told.
One day, I and my partner will hold our children on the beach while a bar-b-que grills in the background and our families and friends play loteria.
One day, our songs will be heard and we'll sing in unison.
One day ... one day .... one day.
Friday, July 4, 2008
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