Whatcha Learn

You know my family always used to make fun of my dad cuz he had like one or two homies. and even those guys he saw once or twice every 1-2 years. He was basically dad and thats pretty much it. All my life I had shitloads of friends. A million people knew my name and I knew probably the names of say 1/10 of em but they were still my friends. I would defend my deep friendship for them despite my pops saying things like: those guys aint yer friends.

You know, how much of that was just to spite pops? Now here I am, a pops, pretending like I am all mature all of a sudden and the weird thing is pretending is starting to imitate life and as the two threads converge from the distant points they started at i find a woven knot of bullshit and real shit makes up my life.

I was telling a cat the other day that his essays would be clean and smooth and nice to read if he just cut out the fat.

Lotsa fat people in my life. Lotsa toned steel-armed people too. I find myself shutting up a lot more. Unless of course I be doing a podcast for Chengdu Living and my colleagues ain't got shit to say. I have to pick up the slack so we don't sound like teenagers messing with their first microphone. That one goes out to Charles and Eli.

Feel me? I turn on my little hose in the morning so the water drips like a floating waterfall into my growing-less-stagnant pond. Thats a big deal for me. All morning I have been trying to figure out the best way to smash up corn for the chickens -- I don't have a proper mill. only concrete floors and a brick. so the corn goes flying, I have to sweep it up and give it to the chickens. Sloppy.

Advantage is, the sparrows swoop in and dive bomb my courtyard for kernels that i missed.

I played the sit-up game with dorian and we laughed our asses off. Lotsa fat in my life but he ain't it.

I still greet "friends" i aint seen in a while with hearty slaps on the back because I still believe in friendship as the source of all goodness. But back when my dad was trying to tell me about who it was I was hanging out with, I would run out the house and seek out the fat in the world and chew on it and wonder why it made my tummy hurt. Thats whats changed.

In Memory of Aintwortha, the Original Fleabag.

We had a cat when i was five years old that was called Aintwortha Shit. We just called him by his first name. My earliest memories in life are of my dad chasing this cat down, in speedo underwear, throwing couches around, cuz aintwortha reached up and clawed his toe while he was napping.

My cats all have fleas. Big time. its so bad i can't pet them anymore and it happened basically overnight. One day i saw a couple fleas scurrying across their bellies out of the light. The next day ... man it was out of control. Now, where ever there are lounging felines or cat poo, fleas lurk waiting for ankles to bite. I was chillin by my window near a corner where the cats sometimes poo, and all of a sudden i had about a hundred fleas on my feet, biting.

So i wore my black speedo calvin klein underwear all day. I was paranoid that they would crawl up my legs and get into an area where i really don't want them. there are three spots in the house i am not able to kick it: near the lawn chair in the courtyard and the two upstairs corners.

It doesn't matter anyway cuz i am gone for good, to Beijing tomorrow. As for those who are wondering why I am not already on the torch run, holler and i'll fill you in.