Tea-Chings

*When steeping the leaves of tea, beware of scalding hot water for it rushes on too fast and zaps the life and flavor with its forcefulness; but also mind the luke warm water for it has merely nothing to say and can't hold it's own weight, unable to dance the degree of the tea.

*Acknowledge the quality of the tea. Give respect and appreciation for its worthiness. For excellence of choice attracts excellence of spirit. The leaves will shine with honest efforts labored for their taste. But also enjoy the mediocre when it's presented, the mundane and dull have their place on the ladder of life.

*Give full attention to the duration of the steeping. Each second reveals an answer. When distracted by annoyance (or beauty) and we lose time of the leaves, they bitter and bloat and ruin the cup. Be assertive and command control of the moment, for it will pass you by like the night train while you sleep if you tarry for just an instant.

*Love the beauty of the tea pot, lavish in the sweet curves of the vessel, the earthy toned clay and the delicate spout. Give thanks for its function, fitting perfectly with fashion. The sexy tradition of ceramics, soft hands creating simple useful forms. But don't get lost on the surface, for her love is in the taste of tea, the steaming aroma holds her soul. The tea pot is merely the silky lingerie wrapped around your lover; enjoy it but don't get too attached when it eventually drops to the ground.

*Careful not to force enjoyment upon your friends, exaggerating all the pleasures and meaning the tea will bring them. Allow the tea to speak for its self. Give space for the tea to talk. Not everyone will like it. Not everyone will like you.

*Observe when the tea spills, and who is spills on. And who gets upset and who laughs. For the tea yearns to explode from the cup, it wants to grace people with its cleansing liquid. An omen of sorts. Be grateful when she jumps out to kiss you.

A Shitty Day on the Water

I was working on a sailboat in Santa Barbara as a young lad, spritely and chipper, eager to be on the water. The salt air gave me such a sweet reminiscent comfort, a soothing reminder of my home town in Maine. But anyway, that's besides the point. This story isn't about picturesque beauty, or my nostalgic longings for freshmen year in college. No, this is a true account of the profound unbelievableness of the human race and the jaw dropping shock of reality.
As I was saying.......I was the first mate for a 41ft sailboat based out of Santa Barbara harbor. There was only a captain and a first mate, the only crew on the boat which took up to 18 people out on 2 hour sailing cruises and whale watches. The owner of the boat was a real douche bag, just a classic rich loser with an insatiable appetite for anger and money. His older brother Gary was even worse but with an added dose of "little man syndrome", and he happened to be the Captain. Once in a while people would rent the boat privately if they didn't want to drink mai tais with total strangers seated on the bow. Nevertheless, this fateful day a wedding couple had rented it. They wanted to give their vows to each other on the wind whipped sea, blue in every direction, and kiss with newly salted lips to the elegant California ocean. I got paid to watch this sort of crap. So, hours before they boarded the boat was decorated in all sorts of wedding shit, wreaths and ribbons, fancy flowers and silks cluttered up the whole ship. It made me sick to see my vessel looking like a doll house on Prozac, but I smiled as they all waddled on, everyone in their best tuxedos and gowns, picture perfect hair and painted faces. The groom handed me two bottles of expensive champagne and barked at me:
"Right after we kiss, bring these up from the cooler and pop 'em open!"
"Yes sir" I sarcastically answered. He thought I was serious.
So, off we went sailing down the coast. I was steering down wind while the delinquent Captain Gary was awkwardly up on the bow stumbling over the vows. About seven brides maids, all plastic and pretentious lined the port side and about seven grooms dudes made horrible penguin lookalikes on the starboard side. So blah blah blah, do you take home girl to...and do you take this guy to blah blah blah? Whatever. They kiss and the groom gives me the wink for the champagne. Which is where the fun begins.
I'm down below when I hear this horrific yell from Capt. Gary: "Walker, Walker, quick, up here quick, bring some towels, quick, on the bow!" He anxiously flailed about. So up I run holding two rolls of paper towels, one in each hand like I'm late to the gladiator's Special Olympics. "On the deck, on the deck, quick, Jesus Christ" he pathetically kept shouting. So as I leap out there I take in all these things happening at once, all these senses coming at me in seconds. Everyone is standing around horribly uneasy, I can instantly feel it. They're looking with frozen shock at the bride's mother on her hands and knees. She is dry heaving and moaning quite loudly. I automatically think she must have gotten sea sick and is puking, I clean up after sick people on the job every day. But then I notice she is covered in a dark wetness, her legs and hands and hair are saturated with it. And milliseconds later I get an ungodly stench that rapes its way into my nostrils. Rancid outhouse with marinated dead things it smells ( and tastes) like. And then I see it, out the corner of my eye, on the port side, there is a stream of murky water spouting up 4 feet from the deck through a tiny hole. I realize its "black water", which is all the piss and shit that has been accumulating in a bag down below for weeks, which the captain had forgotten to pump out before the trip. The bag had gotten so full and backed up it was violently projecting a thick stream out of the tiny hole in the deck plate which is for the methane gas to escape from. The bride's mother had been standing right over it. Week old rotten piss and human shit had shot up into her dress, bent her over and proceeded to "old faithful" all over that poor woman, cascading liquid poop juice through out her $200 hairdo. She was in hysterics. Everyone else was in shock. I pounced onto the menacing jet stream with both rolls of paper towels. I could feel the pressure still pushing up its fecal forced excitement. Black water was running all down the deck while the wind streaked it horizontally across the cabin top. The whole wedding crew all huddled in one corner like they were hiding form lava, fearful they would suffer the same daunting fate as the barbie queen's mother.
The pressure resided and I hosed the deck clean. We instantly turned right around, heading quickly back towards port. Everyone silent. Nobody said anything. Only the light sloshing of waves upon the hull and the agonizing moans of the shit drenched woman were the only sounds to hear. The 20 minute sail back into the harbor felt like centuries. As I tied her up on the dock, the wedding gang all numbly walked off, slow and still riddled with disbelief. The captain looked at me like he just sat on a bag of kittens. I shook my head with such a disgusted shake that I'm sure he cried about it later . And after everyone left and I thoroughly cleaned the boat, I happened to come across the two fancy ass expensive bottles of champagne. That night I laughed wildly with my roommates as we danced around the house eating mircowaved pizza and $100 bottles of bubbly. Marriage is over-rated.

Airplane Hysteria

Airplane Hysteria

Amongst the sleeping drool faced adults
I'm one just like the rest, splayed out
Across all three seats
I wanna bop all their balding heads
Like that silly gofer game,
Then hide under this weak wooly blanket

Everyone behaves on planes
Like punished children,
"Sit there and don't move"
"Here's some water, stay put"
"Read this and shut up"

I feel uncomfortable being so close
To such un-talkative strangers
I'd be tarred and feathered
For poking my eager head between the seats
Looking for a friend to play with,
So I don't, I sit quiet,
Like the sheep that I am

I want to scream aloud, so proudly
"Is anyone awake? Is this your normal
Pathetic selves"?
But I don't, I pretend to sleep

I watch the booze roll by
Pushed by ex-porn stars
Trying to make ends meet
Caked with make-up and burnt blonde hair
If I was younger I would steal a bottle
Out the back
to pound real quick,
And pinch her ass when I'm done,
But I don't,
I politely
Ask for tea and say thanks

I think about masturbating
In the bathroom for my one act
Of rebellion.
But who would I tell
And who would believe me?

The shade lifts quick,
The light is unbearable
"I'm blind" I scream at the top of my lungs.
No, I don't.
But that would have been funny.
The ocean is so huge, and blue
It scares me to
Fathom her magnitude,
So, the flimsy shade comes down

I never buckled when
They told me
And I carried on three bags,
The ticket lady never noticed
I am a rebel!
Cross word puzzles suck
And i feel bad for people who do 'em

Sudoku is for pussies
The news is full of lies,
And your kids are the product
Of a thousands year
Septic leak,
Where the fuck are we?
I hate humanity,
But I love these people

They'll be my best friends
When the plane goes down,
We've all become so close
Watching such shitty movies
And drinking the worst tea
in the world


1/31/13