2012 on Multer family website

Finding Fantasy in Reality

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Some where in the back of my mind I have always known I lived in an exceptional place, it just wasn’t often that I cared to appreciate it. I used to make up stories about adventures in far away lands and imagine myself in a thousand places, anywhere but home. The exciting and the extraordinary was always beyond that next mountain or underneath the crashing waves of the sea, but never did I look at the mountains or the ocean right in front of me.

The Spirit of Christmas and Santa Claus Strawberries

Tue, 25 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

My family spent a lot of time this holiday season thinking about memories of holidays past. What made things memorable, what things did we hold on to so many years later, was it happiness? Was it disappointment? And if so, why? I have been thinking a lot about this lately and one thing my mother said to me that she remembered from Christmas in her childhood very fondly was when she made things for her entire family. How the act of sitting down and applying oneself entirely to doing something that you just want to do because it would make your family happy. I think that is a good reason to look back on Christmas or whatever holiday is being celebrated during this cold winter season where family keeps us warm and happy; to celebrate not because we feel obligated and tied to disappointment or the gratification of materialistic desires, but the celebration of loving for the sake of loving. Because they are family, because they are not perfect, and because they are our blood, our flesh, and from them we find meaning.

Reading Places

Fri, 21 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I spent a lot of time this semester sitting in a library, neck craned, eyes strained, and brain drained. Even though these places are beautiful in their own majestic academic ways, with towering columns that have held up the burdening weight of university, I can’t help but feel closed in by four walls. There is so much outside those tall grandiose windows that let light drift gently in to illuminate the library walls.

The Hat

Thu, 29 Nov 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Windy, cloudy, stormy days always remind me of this poem. It is an older one but I thought I would repost it today just because I always think of this poem on a day like today.

The woman walks
Along in a crowded street
Surrounded by people
Yet so alone
A scarf like a noose
Wrapped around her frail neck
Hands shoved deep
Into her pockets
She only looks
At the ground
The rhythmic step of her feet
Her wide hat
Shields her from the world
She ignores them
Is afraid of them
She wraps herself tighter
In what is safe and comforting
And is content in isolation
So she walks along
In a crowd of people
Without faces
The wind picks up
For a moment it whispers
A soft secret in her ear
A riddle told to fast
As the wind
Carried her hat away
The woman let out
A short little gasp
As her barrier was removed
She reached forward
Fingertips grazing it
Just out of reach
As it bounces and rolls
Along the dirty street
She chases in vain
And no one will help
Finally out of breath
And out of heart
She gives up
Standing in the crowd
Puffs of winter breath
Clouding before her as she watches
Her hat dance away
Her hair billowing about her
Watching with sad longing eyes
She stands still among thousands
As she turns to leave
A tap on her shoulder
She turns in surprise
A man stands before her
Her hat in hand
Holding it out towards her
A smile but no words
She takes it and offers
A shy little smile in return
As she starts to pull it
Back into place
He reaches out to stop her
Why
He asks her
You have such a pretty face
He smiles and lets go
Giving an impartial shrug
You don’t need to hide
You are beautiful you know
He leaves her with
His few soft words
And a knowing smile
She stands there
Hat in hand
Filled with his offerings
Her eyes are wide
And her hands slightly quake
She lifts the hat
Looking at it now
And tosses it away
She watches it
Flit and dance in the sky
Gone forever
She smiles slightly
The stranger’s knowing smile
She doesn’t need it anymore

Red Bellied Sparrow

Sun, 09 Sep 2012 00:00:00 +0000

A Red Bellied sparrow thrashes
Desperation clawing against the clear glass
Of a crimson window frame
Feathers soft turned brittle with fear
Push and push with no result
Fighting a one sided battle
With an immovable object
And a mind that cannot comprehend
That this battle cannot
And will not
Be won
Red bellied sparrow with heaving chest
Throw yourself against the window
No more

Cradle of mercy
Cup the wilted head of the defeated
Carry it gently
Feeling with curious fingers the fluttering
Heart beat of an animal trapped
A being consumed by fear and confusion
Nestled close against your chest
Feel the fear from a cage
Cast by the crimson shade of light
Of an escape masked with unseen bars
Carry it gently
Out into a light untainted with crimson
Where, extended into space
The cradle parts
Setting the red bellied sparrow free

Petrichor

Thu, 05 Jul 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Rain drops danced on the window sill, running their fingers gently against the glass with longing sighs as they settled into seas of water only to be disturbed again by the next drop. The tulips wilting on the inside of the window breathed in the warm air of the house, yet still could not bloom as they watched with drooping faces the disturbance on the window sill. All was quiet in the house except for the gentle tapping of the rain on the window pane like a young lover throwing rocks to awaken his sleeping beauty. Across the white walls of the small apartment lay splashes of life that were too wild and untamed to be contained to a single wall let alone one skinny apartment space. The solitary apartment stood isolated on the ground floor of a building centered in New York’s sprawling system of roads, where it alone seemed vibrant and alive. Roads like the pathways of a body filled with the ever awake but seemingly never living people of the city that never sleeps. Separated by thin capillary walls from the bustle of the dark and dirty streets lay the hidden white walls of her home. The macabre symphony of art was pinned to the walls in a random yet insistently purposeful manner that blossomed from a young and wild heart. The Van Gogh imitations to the typography, and the old photographs of people she had never known filled the spaces of the white wall with color and life that she mastered and owned but still was not her own. The very walls jittered with a peaceful happiness where her fingers had traced along the walls as she had run through the tight hallways and rooms. Every window, every space had been filled by her loving hands so no spot would feel alone or empty. She was kind.

Creeper Photo: Library Corner

Wed, 04 Jul 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I saw you in a rare and out of prints bookstore reading out of the “Rare Illustrated Children’s Section” and I was intrigued. What were you looking at? It looked almost as if it is was a native American illustrated text but I had no idea. You were so focused and singular in your search it made me want to read wat you had picked up and know why you were so interested in it. Also, you never came down from your little stool, you stood on it the entire time and never moved, not even to sit on it. IT was as if up there on your stool and your children’s book you were in your own little world. It has been a while since I read a book like that and was a little envious as I watched you. I miss that world of singularity where ti is just you and the work in front of you. No distractions, no disruptions, and no failures in focus. I miss that. I wanted to have that, to be back in that world, but instead I had to watch from afar only wishing it was me on that stool with a book in hand that made the rest of the world disappear.

Day Eleven: The End

Fri, 29 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

We made it. I am writing this post from my grandmother’s library where I will be staying for about the next three weeks. After eleven long days of waking up at five in the morning and going to bed at about eleven at night and over 4700 miles later, we are in our home away from home in Bootjack, Michigan.

We spent the entire first half of our day having an amazing time on Mackinac Island. We took the ferry boat across Lake Huron over to the small island where we toured around for several hours. Since we did one of the earlier tours we got to actually go on the ferry underneath the Mackinac Bridge, the largest suspension bridge in the USA. The wind was biting and the spray from the waves was really cold as it splashed all over me and my camera but the view was spectacular. The water was almost more amazing than the bridge itself. One of my favorite things about Michigan are the lakes. Lake Superior is my all time favorite, but Huron was beautiful. The deep greens and blues that cast a gradient of color for all to see was stupendous to behold.

Day Ten: Mackinaw City

Fri, 29 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

This is the winding down, the final frontier of the trip: we have entered the state of Michigan. The very tippy top of the state is the goal and end of the trip in Keweenaw County and we stayed the night about the half-way point right before the Mackinac Island Bridge.

We left Cincinnati early in the morning and headed up to meet some of my mother’s old high school friends whom she was really excited to see after to many years. We met them for lunch right above where my mom lived as a child in Birmingham, Michigan. After lunch at Olga’s, an old favorite of my mother’s which serves gyros, we headed down memory lane to reminisce about my mother’s old home. Even though it is no longer there, the house next to cemetery, we still drove by where it once stood and even stopped at a garage sale at the place that now stands in its stead. We drove all over as she pointed out points of interest from her childhood including the cemetery. It was a huge trip down memory lane, even though the town had changed incredibly, we had a great time wandering around.

Day Eight: Family, Gatlinburg

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

We started our day out with a little stress over our car. Because we have driven so many miles we decided to get an oil change but when we took it in and only after the oil had been changed did the low oil light pop up. Baffled and confused we spent a good half hour or more trying to fix this odd problem, we eventually reset the light after call Subaru but the threat of something wrong with the care has been looming over our heads ever since. Quite the unnecessary stressor on our shoulders. To remedy the stress we got Starbucks… lots of coffee and visited the Nashville Parthenon.

Day Nine: Cincinnati

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

We left early in the morning from our beautiful riverside hotel room with whispered goodbyes by their door and headed into the Smokey Mountains before the sky was even fully lit. The park was beautiful, a wooded, secluded forest that had the mystique that only pristine wilderness has. A certain quiet that hangs peacefully over the entire park creating a nearly unearthly sense of calm. We drove through the winding mountain roads that were hidden under a canopy of trees. It was beautiful everywhere you looked and it was a huge breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively, to be back in nature enjoying the simple things rather than fancy shops or restaurants.

Day Seven: Nashville

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I today was the day we hit “the wall” for road trippers: the point of no more. Today marks the point where we are tired and sight seeing weary. No this does not mean we are done it just means that today was a day off from sightseeing. We didn’t really do anything today and abandoned the initial plan for the day for a shortened and less packed with things to do. In other words, today was a breather day and hopefully tomorrow will be the always necessary bounce back day in the road trip.

Day Five: New Orleans

Sun, 24 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I can’t believe I am writing this from New Orleans. Ever since about third grade, when I started reading Anne Rice, I have wanted to come here and go to the french quarter. I have always wanted to be here but could never think of a reason to be here, and now, I am here.

This morning we started our day doing the Riverwalk in the morning in San Antonio before anyone else in the city was awake. It was a nice reprieve from the chaos of mid afternoon tourism when the crowds are in full affect. I have definitely begun to appreciate early morning wake ups to avoid the crowds and actually enjoy what I am there to see.

Day Six: New Orleans

Sun, 24 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

We stayed the night in New Orleans and spent the entire day walking all over New Orleans to take in the sights of this complex city. There are really so many facets and corners to this city, I don’t feel anyone could ever fully explore. Because of this we decided to take a little tour of the city to help us gather some semblance of what we were doing. But we first decided to go to the famous and wonderful Cafe Du Monde.

New Orleans Balconies

Sun, 24 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Here is a small assortment of the glorious balconies in New Orleans we saw. Some looked like jungles, some were sophisticated with furniture and ceiling fans, and others where filled with flowers and a random collection of items backed by the colorful walls of the homes. Southern homes in New Orleans are very impressive indeed.

Day Four: San Antonio

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Today was the beginning of the long haul across Texas. The dreaded day.

I am not going to lie; I had many predetermined notions of what I felt Texas would be like that were entirely ungrounded in reality. And boy am I glad that I was wrong. Surprisingly enough I actually almost enjoyed the long ride across half of this gigantic state. I was pleasantly surprised with the amount of greenery compared to New Mexico and Arizona’s stark desert lands only broken up by sparse shrubbery. There were rolling hills and cut out passes for the highway through nice limestone walls and it was rather enjoyable compared with the experience I thought I was going to have today. Touche Texas, touche.

Day Three: Family Day

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Yesterday was our official rest day that was still extremely eventful. We were staying for two nights at my lovely relatives’ home who where gracious enough to put up with us, dirt balls as we where. We got to stay in their beautiful adobe in New Mexico that had a gorgeous back yard and beautiful southwestern style architecture and of course, sheepdogs. They used to show and breed old English Sheepdogs and so they have four currently living in their home. It was like having a herd of sheepdogs at all times; marvelous, simply marvelous. These fluffy monsters are so much fun and so great I couldn’t help taking a million photos of them instead of simply taking pictures of our temporary home. We where welcomed into their home with open arms and it is sad knowing that we only had one whole day to spend with them, I could have stayed forever.

Day Two: Las Cruces

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

We began our second day adventure with Tucson, Arizona after a drive through the Sonoran Desert. The closer we got to the city of Tucson, the more cacti began to fill the scenery around us. This being so, and Tucson being home to both sectors of Saguaro National Park we decided to make a cacti stop in the Western section of Saguaro National Park.

This park is filled with unbelievable amounts of cacti, tall and towering, the stand like sentries over the dry land of the Tucson desert. Driving into the park we climb a hill that at its peak allows for a grand view of a huge valley blanketed with this type of cactus. This landscape, unique to Tucson was quite a sight to behold driving around that top corner of the peak. The quirky twisted and jumbled arms of the Saguaro cacti are amusing and beautiful. Some even looked as if they were hugging themselves. Others had beautiful flowers standing on the tips of their arms. It was quite a nice park.

Bootjack or Bust: Day One- Gila Bend

Tue, 19 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Today my mom and I left for our third adventure across the USA in our car moving towards (albeit on a somewhat random and very indirect course) our final stop in Upper Michigan, Bootjack where we will spend the summer. This years course is a very different one than in our past. We have really out done ourselves this time. We will be heading out from Santa Cruz on a nearly two week excursion across the very bottom of the US all the way until New Orleans and then heading almost directly up, through lower Michigan, to our final destination.

Worlds Touching

Sun, 27 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I looked out the window
My chin resting on my open palm
The glass fogged
As I peered out
Cars filled with people
Some lonely, some afraid, some dead inside
Some looking for life, and some giving up on it
Trees blending into one another
Black top, yellow lines
Black top, yellow lines
I pulled up my sleeve
And wipe away the clouds
Forming on my window
I watch more cars pass by
In a hurry to reach nowhere
Each face in the car
Blank as they stare forward
Eyes only on the destination
Not the beauty on the way
A car pulls along side us
Silver and low to the ground
A mom talking on the phone
But in the back
Sat a little girl
She was looking out of her window
Right at me
For a moment I just stared back
It felt like an eternity
That our eyes were latched together
In that instant
I knew her
I knew her whole life
And I am sure she knew mine
She was the daughter ignored
She made her own world
Because the one she had
Had no place for her in it
I could see her parents in her eyes
Arguing, yelling
She heard it all through thin walls
And cried herself to sleep at night
She was the odd man out
Always the child in the back seat
She didn’t need them
Or their fickle love
She had all she needed
But not all she wanted
She made her own way
Through a treacherous life
And always would
I raised my hand
And waved to her
I smiled and nodded slightly
And she did the same
And our cars moved on
Our worlds separated
Just a moment
That our worlds touched
I wonder what she saw in my life
What she thought
Of a stranger through a car window
I just sat back and smiled
My mom looked over at me and smiled back
“What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing” I reply
Because no one could understand
How I understood
So I keep her world a secret
Locked tightly away
Of a daughter ignored
And a world passing by

Deliver

Thu, 24 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The post of the mailbox shook, reverberating the metal mailbox with a steady but anxious beat. Like a drum struck with hesitant but impatient strokes of a hand not quite large enough to have a melody or harmony of its own, the mailbox sang its steady tune. The hand struck the mailbox post absentmindedly, not even aware of the affect that enabled the mailbox to sing. Hanging listless and open the small hand swung like a pendulum back forward and down again, encountering the slowly splintering wood that was breaking apart under the stress that had not yet cracked the young boy. The pendulum of this grandfather clock belonged to a young boy and each swing of his short but sinewy arm kept the beat of a clock counting out the seconds, then minutes, and eventually hours of the day with all the consistency of the human heart and its resounding drumbeat.

Rage (A Sheltered Cove)

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Hands shaking as fingernails bite
Into the palms of his hands
Clenched into tight fists
Trying to suffocate his rage
Choking on words which burn
In his throat like poison
This bile in the belly of a monster
Belongs not to a demon but a man
With eyes that burn with anger
Smoldering like embers in dark sockets
Even as their fire dwindles
Into the soft glow of feigned comfort
They have the power to burn
Power to set the world on fire
But here and now
His rage has no place
Except in the quiver of his fist
And the monstrosity of his eyes
He lets out a long forced breath
Letting his body go slack
And his eyes slowly drift closed
Wraps a controlled arm around
His little girl’s shoulders
Which shake with quiet little sobs
Bringing her in close
To shelter her from the world
That took the light from his eyes
Wrung out his heart until all that was left
Was this bitterness, this rage
This monster
That even as this wrath builds in his chest
He pushes it back down
Forcing a gentle, unnatural smile on to his face
Holding his daughter as she cries
Turning his hollowed out chest
Where his heart should have been
Into a cove of resounding calm
To harbor her heart and make sure
That hers, unlike his, would survive
The cold abrasive storm
As he held her tight in his arms
Looking ahead with dead determined eyes
She would survive
Even if that meant what was left of him died
He slowly unclenched his fist
Which had gathered in rage
Opening it out of love
To wipe the tears from her face
And with a calm and controlled voice
Hinted with the melancholy
Of humanity’s cacophony
He whispered in her ear
Everything is going to be all right

Dis

Mon, 21 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

This is not the way I thought it would be
The light at the end of the tunnel
Is not as bright as the stories said
It is barely visible from the Unreal City
The path is dusty and the doors lie
On rusted hinges swaying in the wind
The wind funnels down this dark corridor
Screaming through the cracks under the doors
Breathing life into those who are stuck behind its bars
Who didn’t or couldn’t quite make it there
Trapped with iron grips on cold prison walls
Clinging with the fervor of rage
Embittered to the roots of their soul
Screaming back at the wind
With tortured shrieks of terrors unknown
As the breeze whispers into their ears
Taunting melodies of the songs sung
At the end, behind that backlit door
That will remain just faints murmurs
Of a world hidden from them
By the darks gates of the city they built around them
As they watch with sunken and darkened eyes
From the prisons that they sealed themselves in
Watching the slow progression of shadows
Drawn like moths to the light
That seems to grow dimmer at every passing moment
Monsters pace in these dark rooms
Consuming the light at every moment that door is opened
Leaving no light for those who need it
To guide their passage down this dark corridor
The way is lost but we find ourselves not in a dark wood
But a desolate earth
Where the monsters roam not behind closed doors
But in the light for all to see
The light is gone and we must find the way back
There is no Virgil here, no Beatrice to lend a hand
Just the blind hands that reach out for light
Not knowing what it looks like or how it feels
We are lost, I am lost
Listening to the screams in the wind
Trying to sift out the song that may not be for me
But is so close I can taste it
The door is left unlocked
And this unreal city is not home to me
I promise
This dust will not be all that is left of me

Annular Eclipse

Sun, 20 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000

This evening around 6:30pm there was a rare annular eclipse of the Sun which was visible in Northern California. According to Professor Marcy at UC Berkeley an annular eclipse is “when the Sun, Moon, and Earth are lined up, but the Moon is farther than average from Earth, so it looks a bit too small to fully cover the Sun. Thus, if you are at one of the right places, the Sun will form a ring, or annulus, around the Moon. It’s a special, fun form of a partial solar eclipse.”

Excerpt: Avery’s Sojourn

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

This is a small excerpt from a larger piece I have been working on for the last couple of months. Tentatively titled Avery’s Sojourn this excerpt is just a little blurb from the beginning. It is still a major work in progress but a couple of people have been asking for previews but everything is still under heavy construction and there is a lot of work to do still but here is a tiny glimpse into Avery’s life. Enjoy.

Shout Out: Chef Mackenzie

Wed, 18 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I just got back from a brief but wonderful visit with one of my oldest and best friends who now resides in Napa, California. Yes, that does mean I have an awesome excuse to visit the beautiful wine country just a short car ride away from Berkeley. She attends the Culinary Institute of America in Napa training to be a chef and baker! Yes, she is that cool.

She showed me the place where she gets to learn how to cook and make pastries at the CIA and I was a little jealous. It is so different from the life I am living at college here at UC Berkeley that it was refreshing and new.

Violinist Versus Time

Mon, 16 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Weathered hands patiently adjust clothing
that hangs looser everyday
as time slowly wears away the very flesh of life
Whittling away with an ever persistent knife
That has had its blade at us since the beginning
molding us from this shapeless lump of clay
into something beautiful
only to continue cutting away
past the point of beauty
into the world of obsession and tradition
where we cut not because we must
but just because we know nothing else.

Holi: Festival of Colors

Sun, 15 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Yesterday at UC Berkeley was a celebration of the India holiday called Holi. At Uc Berkeley and many other places this festival is considered a celebration of the coming of spring. ANd who is it celebrated you might ask? By a bunch of people gathered together in one place to throw handfuls of color at each other.

This is the before photo where we are all nice and clean. It didn’t last long at all.

Breaking Point

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Laughter is strung out between souls
Souls that will never touch or see one another
But still feel the tug and pull
Of the string between two cans
That vibrates as words crawl from one to another
Spanning the space between those who cannot see
But still believe
Like whispered secrets sent from window to window
By children without bed times or nightlights to guide them
They cling to that string and use it to weave a life
With or without finding the end of that thread
The thread that pulls and strains
As time places the weight of distance
On the iron shoulders of eternity
Strumming the string of vitality
Feeling the shiver before the break
The untwining of the thread
Right before it unravels
That last grasping second as time slows
Before there is the
Break
Can you hear the laughter drifting away
On the ends of a broken string
It echoes out and fades
Never to reach the end of that line
That was strung too tight
But never tight enough to hold the other
Anchored at the end
Where two souls would become one
Like a violin strung too tight
The wires scream and grind until
The breaking point
And the twang of a string destroyed by the twisting of time
The loss of sound with a deafening silence
Brought about by the abundance of sound
At the end of an unraveling thread
That carried so many secrets
So many laughs on sunny days
The sounds of a soul crying for the other
Will never find their way
Left alone now in the world
Knowing no one is on the other end of that string
No one to listen or care
Just the silence
Suspended on the wind
Until it is picked up again

Anchor

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Music notes drop with concrete feet
To brick pavement crumbling underway
Finding footholds that slowly dissolve
Into the quicksand of time
Fading away into a generation that belongs
No where and to no one
Being dragged downward by the music notes
Cradled in your arms like anchors
That you refuse to let go
Clinging to as if it was life as it takes you away
Gripping onto stonewalls
Which crumble under the weight
Of a broken string as if hell rides on its heels
But there is nothing here
Just a musician pulling notes from the air
Like whispers from the breeze
Light and free they are caught from the wind
And tied to a string
Spun from clouds like a child’s dreams
A balloon floating away tied down by a thread
That separates it from freedom
By a fragile bond that quivers in the wind
The anchored note roams outward
With hope to stand again
But is reigned in before it can drift too far
Down the corridor of time
For a moment it will linger there
In the space before the next string is plucked
And the last fades away
The dying moment lingers with a sadness
That is tangible in the air
Suspended in a moment of being
That will never come again

Salinas Bike Race

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I went with my little brother to watch his team mates do a race in Salinas. They are the ones in the bright green helmets and amazingly colorful jerseys sporting blue, pink, and green. The Ritte team did an amazing and entertaining job. They seemed to have a lot of fun. I am proud to say that his entire team dominated the field and took first and third place in the race. It was really fun watching these passionate young men do what they do best, cycling.

Cacophony (Gramophone)

Tue, 27 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The gramophone screams like a banshee
Discontented and hungry it wails
Like wind bursting in the bubbled windows
That grows pregnant under the pressure, pushing outward
Until the smash and clatter of glass raining down
Disturbs the cold stark night air
Like the nightingale’s melancholy melody for a blind poet
Which rings like the rattle used to quiet
The piercing shriek of a baby’s newborn whimper
Which sounds like a siren
Rattling in the ear drum like a stormy sea
That tried to fit into a seashell too small
And not strong enough to hold the raging waters
Of the ocean on a twisted cloudy day
Swirled with the salty wind of an ocean breeze
Until the grey casts over all things
Leaving only a faint line to distinguish
The two worlds of above and below
A gull’s cry shatters the horizon
With the force of a jarring catastrophe
That leaves the world jolted and trembling
Waiting in that horrible suspense
Of a world untrusted and unstable
Tremble trifling tower
You will fall inevitably
Is the whispered wind’s prayer
That plays with the hair of widows
Sitting in attics looking out small windows
Into a small empty world
Crying silent tears that hit the ground like sledgehammers
Signaling defeat on the dark day
We cling together in the deafening storm
Hugging tight and promising to never let go
Even though time is loosening our grips even as we speak
We cannot weather this storm
Not this time
This cacophony of chaos will tear us apart
There you are sitting across this dark precipice
And I here nursing the sickly wail
Of a cracked gramophone
Trying to screech out the song of you and I
That was never meant to be

Climbing Vine

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

A shadow sits folded in on itself
At the bottom of this dark hole
Like a love note, written
But never sent from its dark resting place
Amongst the cobwebs and spinster spiders
Weaving their lives from the fantasy
Of gossamer thin lies
Lies that build walls thicker than the fortified
Walls which streak upwards like skyscrapers
Surrounding this bent and hollow shadow
Sitting at the bottom of this dripping well
That has become her home
Wretched and empty
Hunched and alone she sits
Like a broken marionette doll
Beautiful once, but thrown away
Her strings have been clipped
As she fell down this hole
Now she must learn to move on her own
This limbs so heavy and graceless
That have never belonged to her
At the bottom of everything
Clouds of cold air escape her barely parted lips
Breathing life into this desolate place
Reaching with the awkward limbs
Of a bird not yet learned how to fly
She feels blindly with her head held down
And her eyes closed
Finger tips glancing the damp walls of her prison
Gliding along the rough edges of bricks
Laid by careless and callous hands
Not the hands of decent men
Her decent hands feel the gripping edges
Of stone sharp enough to draw blood
But dull enough to deny hope
This landscape of craters across the well’s face
Are beheld like Braille under her delicate fingertips until
Cringing like the legs of spider
Stumbling across unwanted prey
Her fingers curl and unfold again
Touching gently the obstacle encountered
At arms length away
With eyes not seeing she understands
Her fingers tracing the smooth contours
Contrasted against the rough stone walls
Of the petals of a plant, a vine
Curling its way upwards toward sunshine
She feels the twisted outline of the vine’s body
As it arches upward, bending, twisting
Manipulating its way up the coarse walls
Of a well too deep for human souls to be released
The shadow lifts its head slowly
Facing upward like the crawling vine
Looking without seeing with dull grey eyes
She can feel the faint and distant kisses
Left by the rain that fell far above
Disappearing before it made ground
She breathes in the moment, almost alive
She reaches with her other blind hand
Out, upwards, stretching to touch the rain
But like the climbing vine
It never quite finds its way

Glance

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Oil on water
Slick as the night
As the morning tries to wash
The darkness from your face
It clings with the desperate fervor
Of child to mother
As a hand slides from the grasp
Of one person
To another
And is gone
This strange moment of fluidity
As worlds barely touching
Eyes barely meeting
Only to glance away
Converge
Only to float silently away
It is there, wrapped in this
Tight tourniquet of fog
That holds us closer
Than a final embrace
Between to people who know
They will never meet again
The moment before all is lost
Standing at the edge of this precipice
Solitary in this mist
Permeable yet dividing
I am lost
Left behind by that evanescent flicker
Of worlds stopping for a brief moment
Reaching out to one another
Knowing there is reason to stand still
But feeling the push and pull
Of a world that never knows how to stop
This winding of a clock
The count
Of one, two, three, four
Finds its way of rhyme
Even as the world begins to slide
Here I am still standing
Not knowing the words to say
Not knowing how to scream
I stand in this silent emptiness
Watching you recede from me

Half Heartedly

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I fret back and forth,
Bite my fingers for a moment
Hide it by tilting my face away
Look, look away
Tilt my head this way and that
Frame my face with worried fingers
Supporting my chin on my hand
Purse my lips, bite my lip
Look back again
—Mom!
Like a thunder clap
It brings me back again
The clouds over my face part
I smile half-heartedly
I have to go
She looks up at me with an odd look
Lurking in her stormy grey eyes
They are her father’s
So much like her father
I begin to bite my nails again
Flick my eyes off towards the window
Throwing my attention across the room
So I don’t have to look at her
Question looming in those haunting eyes
A light but insistent tug on my dress
Brings me back
I look down and smile
Half heartedly
You are going to have so much fun
I place my shaking hand on the top of her head
Feeling her feathery hair
Trace my finger along the red ribbon twisted
Among the feathers of her hair
So soft and smooth
So much fun
I mutter to myself as my attention drifts away again
–the bus
the honk hits me like a slap to the face
I wince slightly
Clawing to bring me back to her to here
I really have to go now
She reaches up with her little hands and turns
The door knob slowly and with effort
I place my hand over hers
Helping her open the door that is too big for her
I feel the softness of her unmarred hands
I wonder if she feels the bones of my fingers
The sadness etched lines of my hands
It swings open
She runs out the door
Like a clumsy fawn
Her back pack shifting back and forth
The monster in front of the house waits
Taking her away from me
I hover at the doorway
Unwilling to leave the threshold
But unwilling to let her go
–Wait!
A desperate yell
Bursts from my breaking heart
She stops and looks back at me
That question still hiding in her eyes
I hesitate for only a moment
And depart from the sanctuary
Running down the little walkway
On legs atrophied with sorrow
I stop before her
She says nothing
Just looks up at me with stormy eyes
Innocent and curious
I grab the end of the red ribbon
Which had come undone on her escape from the house
I kneel in front of her
And tie the ribbon with foolish hands
That shake even as I smile
Half-heartedly
And look into her eyes
I smooth her hair when I am finished
Put my hands whittled away with grief
On her small shoulders
Let out a sigh
That wanted to be a scream
And watch
As she faintly smiles and turns away
The monster honks again
Taking her away from me
I slowly stand as the bus drives away
Leaving me on the shores of my sorrow
Alone
With half a heart.

Central Coast Circuit race

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Gabe has raced CCCX enough now that he’s really starting to like the race. Last weekend he managed a very respectable fourth place, and today he was perfectly positioned going into the finish and pulled out second place! It was a strong sprint, and enough to beat everyone except a very strong VOS rider. I think the new kit helped a bit.

Gabe looking good in the new Ritte kit

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Gabe has waited patiently for his Castelli team kit for so long its almost driven him crazy. He’s kept hoping it would show up for the next race, and that day has finally arrived. Here’s the proud junior sporting his new bold colors for Ritte Elite U23 Development. Looking good Gabe!

Central Coast Circuit race

Sun, 04 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

It’s so nice to have a great, local road race right in our area, and I think Gabe is starting to really enjoy the course. He kept his position pretty well coming into the finish, though the winner had quite a burst of speed to finish cleanly in front of everyone. Gabe pushed hard all the way to the end to take fourth place.

Gabe also raced in a small juniors field and took first, but he’s definitely proud of his fourth and is looking good with his medal.

Dinuba Criterium

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

After a few flats in a row plus changing tires and tubes, it’s time to use a spare wheel for today’s Dinuba criterium. Gabe’s racing with his teammates Bryan and Sam, and right from the start Sam and another guy take off in a breakaway. Sam looks really strong the whole time and takes it strongly at the line for an awesome win.

Nice job boys!

Gabe decides to skip the Juniors race, while Sam and Bryan head right back out for more racing. Jack and Reese put in lots of attacks the whole time, but the boys do an awesome job countering every single move. The legs unfortunately aren’t able to pull off another win, but a great effort for a 5th and 6th.

Pine Flat Road Race

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Gabe and a few of his teammates are here for one of Gabe’s favorite races, Pine Flat road race. It’s great having Stu here with the team, including Matt, Alex, Bryan, and Sam. This is also a must do race for Gabe’s friend Ryan. Hey Stu, stop hiding behind that bike!

Alex heads off in the Pro/1/2 field, Matt in the 3s, Gabe and the rest in the 4s. Cool to see the Ritte team here too.

Cantua Creek Road Race

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Gabe and Matt are racing Cantua Creek road race today. It’s a pretty boring out and back a few times course, but there is the smell of all those cows to enjoy. Unfortunately Gabe flatted, so I’m thinking he won’t have such great memories of this particular race.

Fremont Early Bird Criterium

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Today we’re heading out to Fremont for some early season racing. Gracie is in training to become a bike racing dog. And Gabe takes off in the Cat 4 field.

Later in the day it’s time to have fun racing with the juniors.

Folsom Classic Criterium

Sat, 11 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

It’s the first race of the year for Gabe and it’s nice to be up in Folsom again. We’ve got good weather and a nice turnout. We even managed a few good creeper shots for Monica to enjoy.

Veil

Thu, 12 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

They had nothing to say to each other. All had been said for them behind walls, and curtains that veiled them from choice. Just as he now stands separated by a veil again, but one of a different origin this time. The veil that separates him from childhood to manhood as his bride walks down the aisle. He has never seen her face before and knows not what lies behind this barrier except for his future. He wrings his hands behind his back with fingers that shake and sweat. He is not ready. He wishes he could run or cry, do thing that a child would do. But he can’t as his future fast approaches down an aisle graced with flowers and the whispers of a family divided by a thin line. A line between exchange of goods and exchange of humans, they wonder if there is a difference.

Just another beautiful day at the beach

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

It’s always so much fun to stop at any of the beaches along Highway 1 out of Santa Cruz. Monica and Gabe enjoy making rock piles. Gracie plays with her rocks. And I get to enjoy my family.