Tuesday, June 2, 2020

Squee, the Scrub Jay


In September 2002 I had the opportunity to raise a Scrub Jay. For a month I house-sat for friends who were living in Ashland, Oregon. Prior to agreeing to house sitting, they had taken in a baby bird that had fallen from a nest. Nests, there are in pine trees, so it was a high fall. It obviously had some kind of trauma to her/his head and legs. Of course, I still agreed to house sit along with the disabled baby bird. After a month caring for Squee, as I name the baby bird, they let me keep her/him.  

So, we came to find out he did have a broken leg and cerebellum damage that wasn't that easy to diagnose until he was a teenage bird. The leg had to be amputated because it had grown sideways in the way of the good working leg. I never understood what he said, but he often tried to copy what I was saying with a cute little crow-like speaking voice. He was also affectionate. His poop was too big a slimy, otherwise, I would've let him sleep with me.  

Yes, I know I was supposed to take Squee to a wildlife rehabilitation center, where all injured wild animals are supposed to be taken. But we had already bonded. I loved the little guy. The knowledgeable bird caring people call it imprint. I call it human-bird love. By the way, if you ever find yourself in the position as I did, mealworms alone will not suffice their diet. My vet, who did not report me to the wildlife rehab. informed me worms are mostly mineral. They need more protein and cat food would do.

(To be continue).

Saturday, April 4, 2020

Attraction, one way


This one really got me. Hard. We chatted online (America Online Chat app) two nights in a row before she sent me her picture. Mine was already posted on my profile. She was model material, even at her age. Her profile stated 50+. I imagined 51, 52 years old at most. A few weeks later she confessed she was wearing a wig in that picture. So what. Her eyes, her smile, those lips, oh her delicious lips. Sweet and sexy face. Just a tiny bit of beefy luscious revealing cleavage.

The first time we met I was overwhelmingly enamored. She smelled like the stairway to heaven. Every word she spoke, the way she spoke, her voice, sounded like an Eartha Kitt song. Her smiles warmed my heart. Looking at her skin made my mouth moist. And, her eye’s dance sent me to a new magical world as I sat there in her Mercedes-Benz passenger seat. I barely knew her and already lost in gullible romantic emotions.

As we sat there puffing some good herb and chatted, it was on my mind to make love with her, but knew she wasn’t the type to take me home at our first meeting. She was presenting herself, but not going to give anything yet.

We had become buddies. We both loved watching Sex in the City, Six feet Under, going out to movies, plays, out to dinner. My lust, and like grew equally. My feelings for her were a mix of wanting her as a lover. One night, after I had gone out drinking with some buddies, I felt the need to express my feelings to her. It was 2 a.m. and I paged her. She must have been up and called me back immediately. She could tell I was drunk. She was polite and kind as always. “Do you think we will ever get to make love?” I asked. Drowned and numbed by booze I was prepared for the worst of answers. It wasn’t a bad answer. I wish I had been less intoxicated so I could have better remembered her sweet-sounding voice when she said, “At this point in time, I do not know.” We said good night. And for a few more minutes I danced around my house in my underwear singing aloud to myself, “She didn’t say no, she didn’t say no.” I went to sleep with a smile on my face and desire in my heart.

Through-out the next several months she kept not saying “no”, but she never would say yes. Not even a maybe. I kept imagining she was secretly in love with me but hiding her feelings for some deeply hidden reason. A few times she told me she was both comfortable and excited when she was near me. This was followed by her saying she was attracted to me but not in a sexual way. This confused my romantic ideas about her. So, she wasn’t attracted to me sexually at this point in time. I remained hopeful. People do change. Ya never know. I kept imagining hundreds of reasons why she wasn’t "into me". She’s open in so many other ways. Maybe she was asexual. She must be into women. I decided to wait for the day she noticed me differently. Possibly a time would come when she was in an amorous mood I, would let her flirting lead to every drop of her pent-up sexual desire and let her take advantage of me.

She traveled often for her job. It wouldn't bother me a bit while she was out of town. This next work trip would bother me more because she was also going to meet a man that she had met on the internet, just like we had. This guy just happened to live in the same city as her destination. She didn’t mention this to me until right before I dropped her off at the airport terminal curb. Not but, three-four hours pass by, I got home and I received an email from a stranger. Apparently, she had her new internet friend email to let me know that “she has gotten there safely and was in safe hands.” Nice to know she had arrived safely, but it kind of felt like a dig. She had to of known this would hurt. A nudge to turn me off. A sadistic one. That bitch!

This same night I went out with my buddy for some beer. I told him the latest of my on-going crush/non-mutual attraction saga and mentioned the email I received from her new internet friend. My buddy remarks, “Oh that’s great. She’s over there probably telling this guy about how much you’re infatuated with her and gets him to send you an email letting you know she’s in good hands. They’re probably having a laugh about it right now. Then she’ll take him to her hotel room and suck his dick.” My reply, “Oh thanks. That’s not the image I want in my mind. Especially when I pick her up from the airport.”

Buddy, “Oh that’s great. You take her to the airport so she can get some of his dong. Then you get to pick her up after her lofty licking over your feelings. I tell you what I’d do. I’d pick her up at the airport and act normal like everything’s cool, nothing is bothering you. Then when it gets real quiet in the car scream, “WHORE!”

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Boxed In Poem, 2007

Boxed In

Why do people try to box each other in?
They want to put you in a place.
They say, "You are this, you are that. And, you should stay there and you should do that."
They want to box you up.
Put you in a box. As time goes on, the boxes they make get smaller.
The apartments are smaller and smaller.
The rooms are smaller, the cubicles are smaller, the ceilings are lower, and the view is limited to the box next door.

Chess game

October someday, 1997 

It was a late afternoon in the later summer of the late 1990s. I went online, on Yahoo games, to play a game of chess. Back then, it was free. Maybe it still is, I don’t know, I have not checked. Back then, I was obsessed with the game. There was an option to turn a chat window on or off while playing the game. Therefore, you could chat with your opponent during the game. Other players, if the game was set “public”, could also join to watch, and they would also be able to chat. Most players were average decent people who would comment on a move like, “nice move”. It was a way to make the game as humanly interactive as possible, being you could play with anybody in the internet world. Most of the time I left the chat option on.

This day before, I had lost almost every game I played the day before. I was seriously addicted. You know, like how people get addicted to buying lottery tickets, doodling while they’re on the phone, or those lazy self-entitled persons who never use the left/right indicator when changing lanes. This was me about chess. 


This particular game, I did not want to lose. Therefore, I searched for a player labeled with a gray square next to their Yahoo Chess game name. Gray square players were titled Provisional. It didn’t necessarily mean they sucked at the game, however, if you were playing in the game long enough and did not advance in the skill you would remain a gray squared player. Yet, master type players playing their first Yahoo chess game would first be displayed as a gray square next to their chosen on the site their first time. If they continued in playing in the site, they're eventually advanced quickly to blue, then purple, them or, and if they were really great, they would have a red square next to their Yahoo Chess name. One also takes the chance when playing a gray squared player. 95 out of 100, they were truly amateur players. 

I consistently remained a Blue Square. Not great, but I was persistently competitive. I stayed a Blue Square by continuously playing Blue Square players and some high Grays. I didn’t mind, I simply enjoyed the game at the rate I was positioned at that time. Occasionally a low blue square or high Gray would kick my ass. Now, no worries, we all lose and win sometimes. All, in good gamesmanship.

So, this one day wanting to play a game where I’d take a chance on a provisional player being beginner, I searched for a gray square. Found one. Yahoo Chess game name was Benbighard81. Sounded like a name a 13 or 15-year boy old would make up. I don’t mind playing young kids. They have a lot less life to worry about and some are damn good at the game. I was white, so I moved first, a pawn, two squares forward. He moved a black knight, my left side. Then, he clicked, “UNDO.” In Yahoo Chess one has an option to undo, given their opponent grants permission. I gave permission so he could undo his move. A couple of minutes pass, and he makes the same move. I normally did not like granting UNDOs, but there was the possibility he slipped on the mouse or made an honest mistake in his move. This second request was OK. It wasn't obvious why he wanted to take back the exact move a second time, and it was soon enough to put my pieces in harm, so I granted his second UNDO request. I felt too generous already even though it was just the second move made of the game.

About six or seven moves are made between us. He makes a blatantly bad move endangering his queen. My next move of a pawn would capture his queen. I requested an UNDO. I deny. In the chat window, he writes, "bastard." I reply nothing. I capture his queen with my mere pawn. He types, "Fat bastard...ugly fat bastard." I write nothing. I wait for his move on the board. He doesn't make a move, but types, "you suck." A few minutes pass, then he moves. He's not a bad player. He was aggressive and played well, but I think he doesn't give enough thought between moves. We make a few more moves and I capture another major piece. In the chat window, he types, "Fuck you. I bet you are a fat ugly bastard." He continues typing these kinds of words, yet continuous on with the game. I continue to capture many of his pieces and at last, put his king in check. He types again, "Fucking ugly bastard. He could have moved to remove his king from being in check, but he just types, "Fuck you, you homosexual bastard. Fucking fat bastard.

He left the table naturally without politely resign. When your opponent leaves an unfinished game, the remaining player must wait ten minutes until a prompt appears requesting to force his forfeit, cancel the game, or save the game. I waited out the 10 minutes then I forced forfeit on that fucking fat ugly homosexual bastard.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Phantom Beyond the Glass Door



Here. A movie I made when I was 12 years old, (or around that time, at least.) thanks to my older cousin Dotty, who bought me an 8mm movie camera from a garage sale. She knew I loved movies, and that I wanted to eventually make a movie someday. You know you are loved when you receive a gift like this.

I filmed it, as well as directed two friends, and two relatives the best I could, got it developed thanks to my mom since I had very little babysitting money at the time, and spliced it together with my grandfathers 8mm editing machine. I knew what something like heaven was as I got to do something like that while most of the other pre-teens were out wandering around trying to figure out what to do with their lives. Well, that's how I imagined it. Later in years, my mom had the 8mm film transferred to video, and soon had that tape transferred to a DVD. How grateful I am.

Now, here in March 2020, as the "civilized" world has been advised to stay indoors during a contagious virus known as Coronavirus (COVID-19) and I have the digital means....here is my first movie (sub-titles, sound and actor credits added in March 2020).



Saturday, March 7, 2020

Happy Early St. Patrick's Day

10 days it will be St. Patrick’s Day. I will miss the Corn beef and cabbage served at Behan’s An Irish Pub in Burlingame, CA every St. Patrick’s Day. I lived within ten minutes walking distance from Behan’s for a little over 10 years. What a great pub. Made lots of friends and acquaintances. Love them all. Roby on the left. Giselle and me on the right.

 

Thursday, November 7, 2019