I can’t believe no one else saw it. It was so obvious. Bukowski rages on his chick and kicks at her and strangely loses his cool, but it’s not her he’s mad at.

He is embarrassed of himself because he notices his unoriginalality and lack of follow-through. He does not like this fact, but it’s undeniable like death. When Bukowski sees the emptiness of his routine threat, it’s more painful than all the beatings and boils combined.

Avoiding pointless traditions is a step in keeping your identity. I know you don’t want to be average and holidays are for average people. Someone once told me, “you can’t plan a party”. It was a good day though.


The Donut Boy: a children’s book

There once was a boy with a purple tattoo on his head.  He would walk from his boat on the next island, across the bridge to his favorite place. It was a donut shop.  He came here as often as he could.  The donut shop made fantastic coffee drinks, the best on the island.  He drank coffee, ate donuts, and thought about how good they were.

The tattoo on his head would change colors from purple to blue, back to purple, to red, and sometimes pink, depending on his mood.  Today it was dark blue and cloudy.

When the boy woke up, the wind was rocking the boat and the rain was small and fast.  There was a tropical storm nearby and the strong wind turned the small rain felt like needles on his face.  At first, the boy scrunched his face and tried to make himself small to hide from the rain realized he was already halfway to the donut shop.  He also realized there was nothing he could do about the weather and he would be ok, so he stood tall and kept walking.  The boy started to relax and notice the cars and people and houses along the street.  This made the trip more fun.  His tattoo started to turn purple again.

When he finally made it to the donut shop, he was worried because he didn’t know if the shop was even open.  The sound of guitars and singing rang through the speaker above his favorite table.  His friends were standing behind the counter next to a single rack of freshly baked donuts.  The boy put on a big smile.

He watched the rain bounce off the street through a big glass window.  He was dry and had warm donuts and delicious coffee, but still had the same feeling inside.  It felt like he was hungry, but he just ate.  People walked by and he wondered.

He remembered two of his friends were starting their workday across town.  It was a busy job and he knew they would be hungry.  The boy decided to bring them donuts and coffee.  He felt good about his idea.

With a bag of warm donuts and his yellow raincoat, he marched through the puddles to surprise his friends.  They were indeed surprised and wore great big smiles.  They talked and laughed and enjoyed their tasty treats.

The boy no longer felt hungry.  His tattoo changed to bright pink and even had a little bit of yellow on the outside.

The end.

This morning’s meditation

Every uninterrupted meditation ends in an answer to a question that’s been tangled in the strands of our experience.

This morning’s answer for me was: I thank you, I love you, I forgive you. I got to it when I started focusing on the little pump in my chest where many believe a chakra (energy intersection) exists.

I started out a simple country boy who thought the only benefits of meditating were comic release by entertainment icons like Ace Ventura in When Nature Calls.

It’s no surprise that these comedians are well versed on the subjects they mock. (If you haven’t watched Jim Carrey’s commencement speech from the Maharishi Institute of Management, it’s worth the 20 minutes.)

The benefits of meditation are subtle and not easily quantifiable. For someone high-strung like me, it’s important like stretching and calling old friends.

If you got this far, you might like the method. It changes each time because repetition loses benefit.

Sitting upright and comfortable (for me in contact with the ground), eyes closed for visualizing yourself from changing views, breathing deeply to initially relax.

After about a minute, I feel pretty chill and begin the meditation.

I stick out my tongue slightly (I would make a taco-tongue if I could) so that I can hear the inhale. This is important because the breathing is light and slow.

Ten seconds on the inhale (takes practice), 3 seconds of exhale. This causes the body to fully release tension every single breath.

After 10 breaths, begin focusing on the tip-top of the skull (crown). Think about the air slowly making its way from the mouth through and above the brain. Move your mind’s camera around to get a better view. Once your lungs (crown) are full, exhale and visualize the “air” flowing down your spine and into the ground.

After 10 breaths, move down to the next “chakra” and repeat for all 7. If you’ve never studied this stuff, Google images can help. Once you’re done, do another 10 or how ever many you want without thinking about anything. It feels pretty good at this point.

I brought the “air” from my mouth to the chakra and sent it to the ground until I began focusing on the heart. (Incidentally, this is where my lesson came to light.) From here, I sent it up and down my spine, like a “T” intersection. After the heart, I brought the “air” up from the ground and sent it up my spine, through the top of my head.

This may all sound like gibberish, and it should because it’s my experience.

“We do not seek to imitate the masters; rather we seek what they sought.” – Basho ( Japanese poet).

Bad Roommate(s) Bad Advice

Chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka. I hear scratching on the roof/deck… This is the third time. Tune to go check out what it is. It’s midnight:30.

I pop my head up and see the silhouette of a big fat New York rat. They get the size of cats in the Keys thanks to some exotic pet owner. Instead of scaring him with the paddle, he charges me. I jump up on the skinny gunwale in my boxers like a little school boy bitch. The rat is cornered in the black shadows of the cockpit, but unfortunately for me has David Copperfield skills and vanishes.

I wake up and listen. Great, he’s inside the boat. It sounds like he’s in the cereal box. I grab both boxes, closings the lids and duct tape them. Thirty seconds later I hear him in the motor well and shine his gleaming eyes with my cell phone.

It’s 4:30am now. Going back to sleep is not an option so I quietly scurry out the companionway to scoot down to the nearest grocery store. Four hours later I locate a rat trap.

The next day we find the rat trap set off and the cheese is gone, but no rat.

Three days later Steve dreams someone is combing his hair and wakes up with a large rodent collecting his long, golden hair for nesting material. Steve flings the double pounder into the salon with the back of his panicked hand. Steve is on board for rat elimination.

The next morning Steve wakes up with the rat between his legs. We declare war and oust the oversized mouse in a matter of hours. It’s sad to lose such a worthy adversary. Boat fires are common from chewed up wires and gas lines. It was us or him.

Parisian Epiphony

In America I have to be proactive in order to feel peace. In other words I work my ass off around the clock, waking up with an alarm and not enough sleep, constantly improving my crumbling life, straining to get slightly ahead so that I can save up enough money to buy free time and niceties to temporarily soothe my stressed soul.

My friend Oba is currently visiting Paris and writes, “It’s wild how there’s so much time for leisure drinking and conversation.”

In the States, it’s the exception to see a couple or group relaxing and enjoying each other’s company over a meal or beverage, even in a vacation town like Key West. Of course vacation is a stressful time when you only get two weeks/orbit.