dream

I was napping in the living room today after six hours of lucidity. My sister and my dad were cooking in the kitchen. I heard their conversation.

Sister: I haven't seen that guy around anymore. The one that Trung always hangs out with.
Dad: Yeah, me neither.
Sister: All he does is sleep. He doesn't even eat.
Dad: He's like mom.
Sister: The guy isn't taking him to LA. I think they broke up.
Dad: I think so too.

I knew it! They knew the entire time but refused to say anything.

repost

There was a time when I was sure I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I wanted out of life and you'd be damned if you or anyone else got in the way of it. I was a force of nature, and I knew it; it was the only piece of me that I actually liked because if I held on to that little fact and guarded it dearly, every insecurity, every shadow of doubt, would starve in the hostile environment that was this psyche. Every "A", every executive decision, every move I made was a calculation to ensure the complete manifestation of, what I felt, what was promised to me. I wouldn't allow myself to call it--whatever it was I wanted--an ambition, a goal, because those words implied aspiration.

An aspiration left room for failure. There was no failure in my world. Everything was either one step toward my future, or two. No backwards, no lefts, no rights, no ups, no downs. Only forward.

But I've been falling. What direction, I haven't even the care to look. I just know I'm far from where I was only a summer ago. More than a few both intoxicating and sobering things have occurred in my life during the last few months, setting off a chain of deconstructions, that have split that former steel tower of myself. My trip to Washington D.C. was a big part of that--the life of a foreign service officer would take away more from me than I could ever have to give.

Now that I've given up on that image, I'm lost. I am enthralled with the current of possibility and I'm back to where I was just before I entered high school. I could thrive under a title of a journalist, meeting people and knowing their stories, but I could only dream of the stability that comes with being a teacher. I could cultivate a home and a family as a teacher, but I could only dream of the fulfillment that comes with being a health policy analyst. I could establish a place in the world as a health policy analyst, but I could only dream of the freedom that comes with being a journalist. And so it goes.

If only I could, then I would.

At this point, I don't think my major is going to matter as much because International Relations is going to end up taking me somewhere. Though I'm not sure where exactly.

Despite this, I'm happier than I remember being in any other point in my life. I am free.

---

A lot of this still rings true.

Jes sayin' this thing deserves a repost. I originally put this up on facebook in Jan 08. I remember why I was so happy: it was because I already replaced one passion with a new, more exciting one. I wasn't happy about the freedom.

Now I have neither. Free. Completely free. Aimless is the better word.

I have a secret dream: drop out of college, travel the world, and let the Earth teach me the lessons I need to learn.

It's never going to happen, though.

walking across the bridge
i lit a candle.

i didn't mean to burn
the whole thing down.

synapses

First you turn right on C Expressway.

I hopped into the car. We drove for a while before stopping at some neighborhood. It was hard finding my way back into the car. There were people walking their dogs in the middle of the night. I thought that was completely hilarious. Why was everybody at Check-n-Go?

And then you make a left at S Ave.

I took out my phone book and started going through it. Eventually, we were at Karen's house. Everything was so, so hilarious. I don't remember why. I tried to touch my scalp. Nothing.

You go down for a really long time before you make another left at ST Road.

Nobody was home. Nobody's ever home on Friday nights. A call later, and we were at Yogurtland. Everyone was there.

Once you hit the hospital, you make a left at L.

Hugs all around. I was so happy to see everyone, just one more time. Even Cynthia was there! All the way from Stockton, what the hell. Stumbling. But then everyone looked differently. Looked at me differently. And nothing was as funny anymore.

Make an immediate right.

Driving down Capitol. I knew this road. Really well. All night whenever I recognized a road, I'd talk about the ways to get there. When I finished, I was silent to keep from babbling like an idiot. This time, I started and couldn't stop. Oh god. It hurt so badly. It was the strongest, most crippling pain I'd experienced. It was gone. All gone. I started to remember the first time I drove there alone, after I got my license: I was so terrified of driving, but I pushed on. It started raining on the way there, but eventually I found myself in his room, where I'd nap away the stress. It was the first of many great heights that I conquered. Let me keep this memory, I begged.

Follow the road past the park and make another left when it ends.

I don't remember stopping those sobs. I got home and had a few bananas. Spent the next few hours watching Jake and Amir.

Turn right at G circle and its the house with the bench.

There was a lot of driving and crying last night. But what I remembered most were friends. Thanks everyone for putting up with me and continuing to put up with me.

this little roach

A man without legs
wakes up in the middle of the night
feeling a sudden itch where
his calf once was.
In a temporary meeting of
ghosts and hope and sheer stupidity,
he sits himself up
props himself against the edge of his bed
and stumbles,
flat
amongst the roaches.

---

I felt a burning in my belly. Hunger finally woke from her coma. With the low grumble, I remembered a place where there was always a steaming plate and yearned to go. I wondered if it were boiled chicken and congee day. I never liked congee but I would have given an arm for a drop of it. I didn't know what to do with myself otherwise.

It was 11:11. I made my wish and went to go see if it came true. Blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I got into my car and left, taking that same road I had taken for over a year now. Same freeway, same turns. Nothing changed, except for the fact that the lights were perceived through wet lenses and a heavy heart. I hoped. I prayed. I begged. I wanted to take back every wrong that I did and promised to never sin again if I could have it all back.

It was dark. The lights were yellow. The sprinklers were on. The houses were asleep. The stars were bright as they always were, always will.

I parked at the playground and got out. I sat at a bench. There I read over my text messages, debating whether I should send another one or not. I wrung my miserable little heart out and I dripped my tears and was a pathetic little thing. I got up and wandered. For every step I took toward the place, I took two back. I saw myself as a movie, those trite indie romances where a torn lover is about to leave but decides to linger for a couple of seconds and in those couple of seconds you watch a glimpse of his gait in the corner of your eye or in the background of your rear view mirror.

I gathered enough courage by daring myself to take another step closer. I dared myself past one crack. And then two. Another and another until I rounded the corner. Just like the movies.

I saw your house and remembered those nights where you used to drop me off by the same playground, told me to walk to your house, and snuck me in after you made sure your parents were asleep. That same sidewalk I took when you dropped me off a couple of yards away (after spending the sleepless night in Santa Cruz welcoming 2008) from your house because we saw your dad on the lawn. That same driveway where it was raining and you parked your car and told me to lay down in the backseat because you needed to go inside real quick and you'd come out and you did quickly with a plate of donuts. That same bench we sat at and finished dinner because you didn't like the smell of your dad's ointment filling the house and we drank our smoothies in the warm summer night and I felt like we were 65, grandchildren gone off to college and I was secretly giddy.

I eventually found myself by your car, your driveway, and I lingered. The lights were off. Every light. I thought you were asleep. I stepped onto your lawn and came close, but turned around before I got to the porch. I walked past your house then and back toward my car. I looked to the side as I walked and saw the rocks.

I grabbed a couple of them. Wood. Dirt clods. Petrified shit. Roach shells. Stuffed them into my pocket and walked right back to your driveway. I fished a couple of them out and threw them at your window. I saw myself in the movie again, where the sad boy tries to summon his lover, before texts, before cell phones. This was intimate. This was right. You'd come out and everything would be okay. The dirt got underneath my nails as I rolled it between my fingers. I aimed, sheer desperation guiding my shots and missed. Missed again. Another miss. Take a step closer. It made a sound this time. Another sound. A clatter and a clank. I look behind me and find no eyes. I wait before I throw another.

I imagine you're sleeping and hear the clank and push one of those venetian blinds down to take a peek.

But no response.

Everything was going wrong. I sat onto the curb where the black honda usually parked and curled into myself like a broken doll. The blanket was balled in my hands. I took out the phone and sent a text. No rocks. No dirt clods. Are you awake? Two heart-pounding minutes later.

No, why? I hoped more than ever, then and asked to come in. Got a response.

I drove back to the park and waited, hoping it'd be like the movies one last time.

It wasn't.

Driving home, I was dangerously hollow. A shell. I realized that I was never strong at all. I had made the wrong wish and I'm sorry I ever left my driveway.

My stomach is still growling.

beginning

24 hours since my last meal. Through digestive problems and red eyes, I've been wandering through the house, the blanket over my shoulders, trying to figure out what to do with myself. What does a person do when he cannot indulge in the one thing that kept him going?

He uses the ashes of what he has left. You take a dancer and amputate his legs, he'll dance with his arms. You take a painter and rip off his fingers, he'll hold the brush between his teeth. Likewise, I'll take my memories and preserve them.

--

It felt like hours. My leg twitched as I waited in my kitchen/living room, hair coiffed and wardrobe settled. Some sitcom was on. My hair kept bugging me. I had just cut it after waiting 2 hours at the barber and it wasn't quite doing what I wanted it to do.

The wait was only fair, though. I made him wait for nearly two weeks after he first called me and asked to hang out. I kept saying no. I was afraid that he wouldn't be anything that he expected.

We were only internet friends prior to this. We hadn't met (technically I did "see" him at the beach two months prior to this) and I was ridiculously insecure about myself. What if I weren't as animated in person? What if I totally didn't look like my pictures? What if he didn't like me? I met someone who I really clicked with (we would talk for hours on the phone at night) and I didn't want to lose him. I was afraid to take that risk.

But I did. He called me while I was waiting at the barber and after giving wishy-washy answers, I gave him my address. He'd pick me up as soon as I got home.

So there I was, waiting at home, waiting for the hanging out to begin. He came half an hour after the time he said he would be there. Oh, how I'd come to get used to this. His reason: took a wrong turn off the freeway.

I got in the car and it was dark. He was wearing some kind of button down shirt with a collar and a pair of American Eagle jeans. He was dressed nicely and I...wasn't, really. My first impression: gosh, this guy's fingers are really long. They looked like spiders on the gear.

We talked in the car. Not so bad. We went to downtown because that's what I suggested to do. We were looking for the other La Vic's, not the one by SJ state. That one was closed during this time for renovations or something. We ended up getting lost and defaulted to Cheesecake Factory.

We had nachos. It became a staple for us for a few months after that. He talked about how the last time he was here, he had his date feed him. I quirked my brow and said, "Uh, you brought the wrong guy if you expect me to be doing that." Laughs later, he said he wasn't, honest.

It was 11 o'clock when we left. I was marveling over the fact that oh god, I've never been out past 11 o'clock if it wasn't school related! But I didn't tell him that. I didn't want to sound uncool.

We went to the bank so I could withdraw some cash while he waited in the car. He started it before I was in, so I decided to jump on the hood. I told him that he was gonna leave, I would cling onto the car while he drove. He said he would never do that.

He took me home. We talked on the phone for a bit more after. I went to sleep smiling, knowing that we were still friends, no matter what the medium.

You called. I was afraid. You persisted. I'm glad you did.

You spoke. I listened. You listened. I spoke. We kissed.

You asked me to wait. I waited. We became.

You were in the arcade. I never thought you were a loser.

You were doing Calculus. I was fevering. You left your desk. I felt your body next to mine. You lay with me. I never forgot.

You had a notebook. I bought a shirt. You came after work. I learned to sew.

You didn't get in. I did. You said you loved me. I said I loved you back.

You saw him. I made you choose. You chose. I made the mistake. I'm sorry.

You're not sure. I hurt. You hugged me. I want you to still be.

You told me to come late. I waited until 10 pm. You told me not to peek underneath the edges. I never slept a night without it.

You drove me back. I grab your hand. You don't pull away. I'm never happier.

You saw a future. So did I.

You cleaned your whiteboard. I snuck in to kiss your forehead. You let me. We taught.

You danced. I watched. You are passionate. I linger.

You wrote your letter. I understand.

You're gone.

I'm not.

i'm just a little boy
in a littler body.

rocks
on my window

planes
on the hill
we never got to 1000

half sprawled
nestled against your neck
an arm over a chest
a leg over a thigh

you're sick
and i bring soup

mulder and scully
solved the eternal summer

the little girl knows who you are
and the woman at the directory

yelle
twice

the kids are in egypt
wake up,
dino

buffalo blasts, and
a chili burger
but don't cut the top bun in half

never happier
for a nosebleed
because you came in
with those towels

not enough seats
at dinner

eight stories up
we slept above trees
by a screen window
and never felt safer

the zombies
won't eat our neighbors

the anteater
the blanket
and the pants

you gave me a family
a home
a future

even if it were a dream

the heart
may have broke
but never emptied.

i miss us dearly,
i loved you since day one
and never stopped.

---

Day 29

This being the last week in San Jose, I've been trying to milk it as much as possible; that is, I've been with Brian approximately 10 hours of the day, everyday. While a good portion of our togetherness is spent cuddling in bed, we sometimes go out to see the sunlight.

Today, for example, we went out to a bunch of plazas in search of a pair of dress shoes and sandals for Brian's college needs. Looking for sandals shouldn't be hard...unless you're trying to find non-thong sandals. We traveled to three different plazas in search of sandals and eventually found some at Sports Authority for a whopping twenty bucks. Ridiculous, in my opinion, but they were Nike. Sure.

Anyway, in the plaza where Sports Authority lay, we found a little Fish n' Chips shop. Much fish-and-chip consumption thereby occurred.

Well, I actually got a chicken sandwich and Brian got a fish sandwich. Pictured to the side is my chicken sandwich, with the fries smothered in tartar and ketchup (I like my disgusting condiments; in fact, I feel most foods are simply vehicles to deliver condiments).

Later on, with full bellies and the daunting prospect of dinner ahead (steak, sausage, and fries...damn, should have skipped the fish and chips), we passed by a new Nob Hill on Santa Teresa. For the past month that its been ready, we told ourselves that we'd visit but we'd remember just as we passed by. This is the first time we actually followed through. Cross that off the list and all we've got left to do to complete the Gay Agenda is to convince the world that Crocs are a blasphemy. Yes, the world is clearly ours. Surrender your tube socks!

We bought some ice cream: Ben & Jerry's Fossil Fuel. I bought it for the Dino-bits. It's still sitting in Brian's freezer, untouched.

Day 14 - Day 28

After this post, I should be caught up. Enjoy September! I know I sure have.

Day 014



Park by Brian's. It was only about 7, but it was already getting dark. We go here often because of the lush greenery, though you can barely see it here. It truly is a Suburban paradise.

Day 015



It's amazing what the human body can accomplish. I managed to catch this while Brian was at full air.


Day 016



Brian wanted to take some *~serious~* photos to make an X-files poster for his dorm room. We ended up taking over 40 pictures because of my crappy photography skills.

Day 017




That's me in the photo. Brian wanted to take some photos with a spooky/supernatural feeling to them. This is the result.

Day 018



On the way to Stockton, we came across beautiful hills and windmills. I had to resist the urge to run out of the 4runner and roll down the hills. It didn't help that we were in intense traffic.

Day 019



After a three hour drive, we arrived at Caswell, our campsite. It wasn't bad...after it got dark. During the day, there was absolutely no shade and the bugs were relentless. The plus side was that our site was right across the bathroom.

Although, that just meant we were disturbed by flashlights during the night as piss-ridden campers stumbled their ways here.

Day 020



The fire took forever to ignite. Three paper plates, three logs, and seven pieces of kindling was sacrificed in the quest to sustain a fire.

Day 021



Poor lizard. It was caught by Huy. He tried to feed it a piece of shrimp but it only stared at it. That's probably because it was half the size of the creature.

Day 022



Eastridge, flagship mall of East Side, and one of the more ghetto malls in San Jose. A year of working at the Hollister here has left me unwilling to come back. Ever.

Day 023



Peter and Brian sitting outside Barnes & Noble. We were celebrating our ninth monthiversary at Red Robin's. Why celebrate? One month = one year in gay time. So Brian and I have been together longer than most celebrity marriages. Fo reals.

Day 024



Blossom Hill Crossroads. They ended up buying none of the clothes we bought in. Nothing from the four bags we brought in. NOTHING.

Day 025



We found this lovely corner of a kitchen at Home Depot and decided to claim it.

Day 026



El Amigo was a lovely colorful surprise in the middle of an otherwise dilapidated plaza.

Day 027



Brian and I made some croque-madames (grilled ham & cheese sandwiches with a fried egg on top.) They were as delicious as they looked. In other words, they were godly.

Day 028



First time going to Fuz (gay event) at the Abyss. It was pretty awesome: we met up with a bunch of friends, danced for four hours straight, suffered dehydration and sore backs, but most of all, we met these crazy ass drag queens. Or I don't know what to categorize them. I just know I wouldn't want to run into them in a dark alley, lest my unfashionable self be torn to shreds by their fierce, five-inch fingernails.